iv.

“Hey, who is ‘Daddy’?” 

Y/N thinks she should probably crawl under a rock. 

Her dynamic with Harry was different now, after that run-in at the park. It had shifted and morphed into something else, beyond whatever weird friendship that they’d crafted out of necessity and proximity. They weren’t vocal about it, by any means; both had just accepted it and continued as they normally would. Like, what was she going to say? Hey Harry, I feel like we’re close enough now that I sort of want to fuck you all the time, but I don’t know if it’s because you protected me and take care of me, or if it’s something else? That would probably be the healthier form of communication, which means Y/N would not be able to go through with that. She preaches it, but she doesn’t always practice it – Niall and Aki haven’t noticed that yet, so they can’t call her a hypocrite when she waxes poetic about how they should be open with their feelings. 

And, seriously, she’s more open with her feelings with Harry than she’s probably been with any other man in her life (save for Ni). This is just something outside the range of being open about. There’s a difference between telling Harry that that entire night was scary, and she appreciated that he’d been understanding with her even though she went against what he said, and how he made her feel safe, and then there was telling him that she’s been wanting to ride him until her thighs burn and she gets a cramp in her calves. One of those is innocent and sweet, and there’s no room for rejection, and one of those Harry could politely decline and then stop sharing a bed with her, and honestly, she isn’t ready to give that up yet. 

She thought it would only be that first night. After the initial scare, she figured that one night with him directly at her side would make her feel safe, and then she could work on getting over the encounter the subsequent nights. However, the following day, when the sun lowered in the sky and black started inking over the sunset hues of oranges and pinks, Y/N felt a pit of anxiety well up in her stomach. It must have shown all over her face, because Harry clocked it instantly as he collected the plates off the coffee table from dinner. “What’s wrong, Bunny? Was something not good?” 

“No, that’s not it,” she shook her head, scratched worriedly at her arm, and tried desperately not to nibble at her nails, still fresh and pretty from her manicure, “I’m just. . .um. . .would it be weird if we shared a bed again? Like, just for tonight?” She wriggled in her spot, dodging eye contact at all costs so that when he refused, he wouldn’t see something stupid on her face, like a frown or tears. “I’m just sort of – y’know – about it still.” 

Harry was quiet for a second, and at the time, Y/N convinced herself it was because he was trying to figure out an easy way to let her down. What he’d really been doing was carefully setting the plates back on the coffee table and stepping closer to her, leaning over to wrap his arms around her body. Y/N squeaked, because she isn’t sure Harry realizes how tight he hugs or not – his arms feel huge around her though, and he squeezed like he might be trying to crush her lungs from the outside. Honestly, given how strong he is, she didn't doubt he’d be able to if he wanted to. 

But even with all the strength in the hug, it’s immediately softened by his sweet tone, “Of course I will,” he replied, “I’ll sleep in there every night until you’re absolutely sick of me, yeah? Anything to make you feel better.” 

Y/N let herself melt into him when her arms looped around his body. She decided to pretend that this wasn’t because she was sort of a charity case, but because he was secretly hoping that she’d ask him to spend another night in her bed. That made her smile to herself, a little – she’d always been prone to delusional thoughts to get her through things. If she imagined that Harry was just obsessed with her and not that he felt bad for her, then this was actually pretty sweet. 

She could never claim to be touch-starved. Niall and Aki had actually made it their personal mission to be touching a part of her at all times, at any given moment, and vice versa. They were just a very touchy-feely, ‘all up in your business’ kind of friend group. But Y/N hadn’t shared a bed with someone like this in a while. Niall is a horrific bed and blanket hog, so she’s just shivering on the edge of the bed if they’re forced to share. And Aki gets too hot to cuddle or anything, so Y/N is still freezing, but at least she has plenty of blankets because Aki kicks them all off. 

With Harry, though, it’s really nice. Like all things, he was a perfect fit for her and her bed. He took up the perfect amount of space, he moved the right amount, he shared an appropriate amount of blanket, and he was always the appropriate temperature. They would fall asleep shoulder to shoulder, mostly, sometimes back to back, and it would feel warm and comforting to have his spine pressed against hers. No matter what position they’d fall asleep in, they managed to meet in the middle somewhere. 

Y/N was always waking up in the middle of the night, sometimes several times – it’s something that had always happened to her, even when she was little. With Harry in her bed, it still happened, but far less, and that itch beneath her skin and under her bones to get out of bed and do something has all but disappeared. The first time she woke up when she was sharing a bed with Harry, she’d found his arm slung around her waist, her back pressed to his chest, and their legs all tangled up with each other. She was just awake enough to register that they were cuddling, but not conscious enough to panic about it. When she’d woken up the following morning, alone in bed, she’d wondered briefly if she had dreamt the entire thing. 

But then the next night, she woke up in a similar but different position. This time, she was the one wrapped around Harry, his head all but buried against her chest, and her arms cradling him to her body. She had a leg stretched across his hips too, like – it was a very intimate position for the second night sleeping together. That night, she did wake up just enough to panic a little over it and was able to successfully wiggle her arms from around him. Not because she was uncomfortable, but because she didn’t want him to feel suffocated by her presence. Especially when she was the one who propositioned them to sleep together – even she could look past her deluded thoughts to recognize that this might be too much. 

However, when she tried to pull her leg away, there was a soft, sleepy whimper and a hand gripping her thigh tightly before she could move it. Y/N struggled not to make a startled sound in her throat. She wasn’t nearly awake enough to stay awake – her head felt heavy and melty against the pillow, and that, coupled with the warmth of his hand on her thigh – well, she fell back asleep pretty quickly. Though once again, when she woke up, she was alone in bed. 

(Harry was an early riser, even though he was late to fall asleep. It’s on the weekends that she saw how intense a napper he was; sure, he’d be awake before her, but he was passed out on the couch after lunch, and K.O’d for a couple of hours at least. Y/N tiptoes around the flat when he’s napping because he’ll wake up at the sound of a glass being set on the counter.) 

She’d suspect that she’d been hallucinating the whole thing if not for how often it happened. Six nights in a row, she’s woken up tangled in Harry’s limbs and snuggled pressed against his body. Maybe Harry was the touch-starved one? She hadn’t considered that. Though she couldn’t be absolved of all the initiation to cuddling, she surely wasn’t tugging his arm across her body, or snaking his bicep beneath her head. She might have been the one to roll over and rest her cheek against his chest, but he was the one who had his other hand stretched across his torso to rest on her forearm. When’s the last time he shared a bed with someone? Maybe he was the needy, clingy one in their sleep, but neither of them was awake to know it. 

Nevertheless, neither of them brings it up. It seemed silly to; a fat lot of good it would do, because it isn’t like they could stop it – they were asleep. Or, well, they could stop it, but that would mean Harry not sharing the bed with her anymore, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t necessarily want the cuddling to stop either, actually. So the only route to take was for Y/N not to bring it up. What if Harry didn’t even know about it? What if, by the time he woke up, they had already found themselves on the opposite sides of the bed again? And then Y/N would bring it up to him, he’d probably suggest that he leave her bed so that they could put an end to it. And, yeah. . .Y/N is just not super chill with that happening. 

She likes it, sue her. It’s not even like she could tell anyone about it, either. She’d finally had to come clean about him staying with her to Niall and Aki, who all but exploded with the information handed to them. Of course, she doesn’t give them the real reason that he’s staying. They think that he needed a place to shower and sleep because his flat had a crazy plumbing issue, and the unit above his had a pipe that burst and flooded his living room and bedroom. So they’d be working on it for a while, and in the meantime, Y/N had politely offered her building because it was close to his job. 

It was a dodgy lie at best, and again, she’s not the best at lying, so she had to tell them via message. It was starting to get suspicious that Harry was taking her to work every single day, on top of her telling them that the ‘girlie pop sleepover’ couldn’t happen at her place this month. She had to come clean, at least a little bit, and when she did, the thread was filled with all caps, exclamation points, and stupid, meme-ified emojis. Niall was flabbergasted. Aki inquired if she’d gotten in his pants yet, and both wondered if he would really mind them spending the night since they’d initiated him into their circle at the club. He passed all of their checks and balances for what makes an appropriate fourth to occasionally interweave in their group. 

Y/N told them she’d ask if he minded, because it really didn’t hurt to. And she meant to ask a while ago, really, but she’d completely forgotten. Not until Niall was blowing up her phone while she had it face up on the counter, spooning her seconds of the stew he’d made into a bowl. Y/N had been playing music through the speaker hooked to her phone. She told him to skip the song that came on for her while she was serving herself. Not thinking, of course, that Niall has zero filtered, even knowing that Harry could be looking over her shoulder at any moment. 

“Hey, who is Daddy?” He’d asked it so innocently that Y/N had almost confused herself trying to figure out what he meant, until he explained it, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be nosy or anything. It just sort of stuck out on your lock screen.” 

It was then, with sudden and horrific realization, that he was talking about Niall, who was probably calling him Daddy on the phone. Harry, who was standing beside her, carefully plucked the ladle from the pot so he could get more too. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and the soft whisper of ‘oh my god’ made it out of her mouth before she could stifle it. When she looked over at him, his brows were pinched inward, like he was concerned and maybe a little irritated. 

Oh god. . .oh god, Niall pissed him off? Was he really mad about the nickname? Y/N never wanted him to know that’s what they called him, but she’d always thought if he accidentally found out, he’d just chuckle and move on. But what if he was legitimately pissed? Shit, this is so bad, it’s – “Oh, uh, Niall’s just. . .you know. Being Niall.” 

Harry’s head tilted, the irritation not leaving his face, “Hn,” he murmured, “So, in reference to ‘Y/N, did Daddy say we could come over’. . .Daddy is. . .” 

God, of course, he wasn’t going to let her get away with not sharing! He may not have been trying to be nosy, but Harry – at the end of the day – is nosy as hell! So is she, so she couldn’t even blame him, but shit. Couldn’t he have just let her move on from that? Did he really need to know what some offhanded nickname was? Also, if she were smarter, then she wouldn’t have stalled with that last statement and made something up about how Niall’s talking about this guy that he met recently or something. He surely wouldn’t believe her now that she’s dragged it out this long. Plus, all it would take is scrolling through her messages once before realizing that the ‘Daddy’ mentioned is often mentioned in relation to her. 

She was going to have to just come clean. It was easier than trying to keep some rouse up, especially with someone who seems like they have an innate ability to sense a liar. Not that she’d ever seen him utilize these moves before – she just knew that her stomach and chest felt squidgy and guilt-ridden anytime she even considered a lie to him. This did not bode well for keeping up a good lie – he’d be able to see right through her. 

“Ah, well, that’s kind of his nickname for you,” she admitted, feeling hot in the face, wishing she could blame it on the steam from the stew, but both of them would know and realize what it was actually from, “He’s never been great at doing non-vulgar nicknames.” 

Harry stared at her for a second before his smile broke out into a grin, and he started to chuckle like that couldn’t be funnier. Something lifts from his gaze – Y/N was unsure what exactly had been there in the first place, but it was much darker than it had been at the beginning of the night. Had he been irritated with the thought of someone else being referred to as Daddy in their chat? Especially when she was being sort of suspicious about it. Honestly, maybe she was making things up, but he seemed sort of relieved, actually? Like him being ‘Daddy’ was the best outcome. 

“Wow, really?” His dimples were dotting either side of his big grin, “Now why is Niall referring to me as Daddy?” 

Because we talked in detail about your BDSM history and potentially all of the things that you could be into, including – but not limited to – a daddy kink. 

“Ah, is there ever really an answer for the inner workings of Niall’s brain?” She answered instead, “He’s just wanting to come over for a sleepover, is all. Aki, Niall, and I do one every month at one of our flats, but I told them you were staying with me, so it might not be best to have it here.” 

Harry pouted his bottom lip, “No, you can have it here!” He assured her, “I don’t want you to change how you live just because I’m around. Could I set up shop in your bedroom or something? I could even leave if you wanted, and like – hang in my car or something.” He motioned around them, “I’ll make my presence as brief as possible, yeah? That way, it’d just be like a regular night for you, yeah?” 

Y/N raised her brows, “Really? Wouldn’t that be annoying for you, though?” 

“Not at all,” he told her, “Besides, I like seeing you with them. You’re so pretty when you’re having fun.” 

Y/N’s face feels warm from the compliment, but she looks away to her phone before he can say anything about how shy she gets when he says things like that. She pulled up her message thread with the two of them and cleared her throat, “Okay, well, then I’ll tell them, sure,” she feels like the hair on the nape of her neck is raised, because Harry is actually way too close to her right now while she’s got their thread open. Honestly, his knowing that Niall called him Daddy was probably the least ridiculous thing he could find in here. Y/N didn’t even want to think about Harry figuring out what the omegaverse was.

“They usually get here around dinner time,” Y/N tells him while her thumbs move across the screen, “Um, we order in and then do stereotypically cute sleepover things. Nails, sometimes we practice make-up on each other, face masks at the end of the night, watch movies, and talk over them  – things like that.” 

Harry smiles, “That sounds great. Let me pick the food up for you guys.” 

“Oh, Harry, you really don’t have to –” 

“Delivery fees are killer, especially on a Friday night!” He reasons, “Just let me, yeah? It’s the least I can do.” 

Her brows crinkle, “Why are you saying that like you owe me something?” 

“I do! Did you forget the whole park incident or. . .” 

“No, of course I didn’t, but you’ve already made up for that. Like, you’ve been sleeping in my bed for a while, I feel like that’s more than enough.” Muffy toddles from wherever she’d been hiding, bonking her head into Y/N’s calf before looping around her legs. 

“Is it really paying you back if I’m benefiting from it?” He inquires, a soft, teasing gleam, and Y/N’s eyes go wide, “Anyway, I’m not taking no for an answer, so you’ll just have to deal with it, ‘kay? Gotta pull my weight somehow.” 

Y/N does eventually give up, because sometimes that’s just easier. Harry is very headstrong, and it’s never about things she’s uncomfortable with. Honestly, everything he offers and enforces just makes her life easier and better in the end. So she relents – the food would be warmer if Harry were the one picking it up anyway.  

“Oh, and I’ll get you guys some cute matching things while I’m out,” he adds, “You know what. . .you’re going to need ice cream and stuff too, aren’t you?” 

“Wait, Harry –” 

“Hold on, I’m making a list.” 

                                                               .                      .                      . 

Niall and Aki turn up around 5 PM, already dressed in pajamas with their overnight bags slung on their shoulders. Aki has a stuffed bear that she has to sleep with her cheek pressed up against since she was little (for as old as it was, it was well taken care off, and didn’t look incredibly worn or carry the scent that old things seem to carry), and Niall carries one of his many board games (that they no doubt would be arguing over in the next couple of hours). There’s a kaboodle in the mix, too, for the makeup they’ll try on each other. Y/N barely has time to step to the side to let them in before they’re pushing past one another through the door. 

They drop all of their things in the living room, where Y/N had carefully constructed a massive pallet on the floor for them to sleep on. There were a ton of blankets making the base, and a ton of additional blankets bunched and crumbled up around the edges so that they could pull them up when they got chilly. She had a dozen pillows too, because she always has a thousand pillows (with enough left over for Harry to have four to sleep with in her room), and stuffed animals that she’d gathered and collected through the years. Harry had watched her create it, praising her pallet-making skills, saying something like, “Maybe I should’ve had you make me a pallet instead of sleeping in bed together.” She clicked her tongue and told him to shut up. 

This is why they always have it at her place, because Y/N has all of the fodder for the perfect sleepover vibe. Down to the lighting that she’ll hang up, the LED strips that light the back of her telly, and her candle selection is amazing, she would be the first to say. So the room is warm, cozy, and pink, and Y/N thinks this might be her best work yet. 

“God, I love when you make us an omega nest.” Aki drops her things at the edge of the pallet before lowering to her knees and flopping face-first into the pillows, “These are new scent beads you’re using.” 

“She started using my brand,” Harry’s voice chimes in, his keys in hand, “Isn’t it nice? It’s so fruity.” 

Niall gasps, “Harry, are you going to let us put makeup on you? Aki can do a killer makeover.” 

“It’s true.” Aki muffles into the pillow, twisting to look back at them, “I probably should be doing makeup for weddings and charging them thousands of dollars, but my calling is music marketing for whatever reason.” 

Harry grins, “Ah, as fun as that sounds, I’ll just be working in Y/N’s room tonight.” He points toward the door, “But I’m going to pick up dinner before that! I need to stop at the store before that, so just message me what you guys want to eat.” 

“Oh, what?” Niall seems surprised, “Harry, you really don’t have to –” 

“He doesn’t listen to reason,” Y/N cuts in, also lowering down into the pallet, less theatrically than Aki, but she does huff out a breath when her head hits one of the pillows outlining the edge of the. . .nest, as described by Niall, “I tried to tell him he didn’t need to, but he insists.” 

Harry nods, “Yes, I absolutely insist. She’s helping me out by letting me stay here with the plumbing issue and all that, so it’s the least I can do.” 

In this situation, Y/N couldn’t necessarily fight him without exposing everything in front of Aki and Niall, so she keeps her mouth shut. Harry left with a wave and the soft click of the door, and both Aki and Niall turned to her with wild eyes. 

“Have you fucked yet?” 

“What? No!” Y/N shakes her head, not entirely surprised that this is Niall’s follow-up question as soon as Harry steps out of the door, “Of course not, it isn’t like that.” 

Aki snorts, “I mean, he definitely wants to,” she pointed her thumb toward the door. “Did you see how he was looking at you? Those are ‘fuck-me’ eyes.” 

Y/N rolled her own, “No, they aren’t, stop it,” she shakes her head again, “You two are hellbent on me being just as delusional as you! You’re trying to set me up for heartbreak.” 

“But your heart is in a place to get broken?” Niall presses, finally dropping onto the pallet and leaning his weight onto his right hand, arm outstretched. Muffy crawls into his lap cautiously, balancing on his thighs. 

Scowling, Y/N reaches for her phone so she doesn’t have to look them in the eyes, “It’s complicated,” she tells them, and she wishes she could explain just why it was so complicated. This wasn’t just some random meet-cute where she reconnected with a university crush years later. The first time Harry met her, it was with a knife to her throat. He spent the first few weeks of their interaction lowkey stalking her to make sure she didn’t say anything, and, weird enough, stuff keeps happening; he feels obligated to stick around her to keep her safe. They get along well, their chemistry is good, but at the end of the day, he isn’t here because he chooses to be. It’s not because Y/N is so amazing that he has permanently made himself a spot in her life. 

Y/N likes him, yeah. She has a crush on him. It would be difficult not to develop some sort of feelings when they were around each other all of the time, and when he made her feel safe and protected. Plus, there’s the issue of his generally very flirty personality that starts putting brain worms in her head, making her think that there was something there between them. And how could you not have further developing feelings when that same person who makes you feel safe, holds you at night like you’re something very precious to them. Cooks for you, takes you out, spends an insane amount of time with you, and doesn’t even seem burnt out by it. 

She stood no chance, really. And then there was the whole fact that his job was dangerous and scary, and that he had killed people before. Was she really okay with that? He says they were bad people, and she trusts Harry, sure, but. . .well, she doesn’t know. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Especially when that very same Harry, up until recently, she couldn’t imagine doing more than a threat or two. Even after experiencing him the first night they met, he’d done a good job at washing away any semblance of the person she first stuttered a plea to let her go. 

God, but he’s so fucking honest, too. Like he has absolutely nothing to hide from her. She thinks she could ask him to show her proof and evidence of every single person he’s ever had a case on, and he would pull up the documents if they were available to prove himself. 

“Complicated or not,” Aki began, taking Y/N’s phone and clicking on the Italian place she’s been pressing for them to try, “You get all gooey and sweet when you’re with him. Just try it out, baby, or Niall might.” 

“I’m bros before hoes, but if it makes you act faster, then I’ll start flirting.” He nudges her leg with his toe, “I can see you’re getting all shy about it, so we don’t have to keep going. Or – actually, one more question – his dick size? Do we know it yet?” 

The rest of the night goes by with little fuss. It’s fun – Harry comes back with the food that they wanted and grocery bags full of things: fancy wine, extra blankets, matching sleep masks, bags of crisps, toys for Muffy. He also has a box of baked goods from a very pricy bakery near the Italian place he picked up their food from. 

“Sorry,” he laughed, “I – uh – got a little excited. I think this is a really cute idea, and I reckon I should convince my friends to start doing something like this.” 

All of them had wide eyes, staring at the bags. “Holy shit,” Aki gasps, “What is your Venmo?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it; this was on me.” 

“But –” 

“I’m telling you,” Y/N says gently, “He doesn’t listen to reason.” 

Harry does eat dinner with them, sits on the pallet with the lap trays Y/N has for eating since her coffee table – for the most part – she usually has shoved away from in front of her sofa so that she could have more space. But after, he packs up, tells them to have fun and not to worry about noise or anything, that he’s usually listening to music while he works anyway. When he shuts himself away, Aki lowers her voice, just above a whisper, “Y/N,” she said, very seriously, “You need to lock him down now, baby, because if someone else snatches him we’ll have to kill them to take him back, and neither of us wants to do that.” 

Their night continues as they always do. They talk about pop culture, Niall’s recent conquests, Aki’s recent conquests (Aki is keen on situationships and they’re always a little messy – most recently she found out the woman she’d been sleeping with was married with children), new make up that’s come out, current trends that they think are awful, this show that Niall is heavily invested in and has been trying to get Y/N and Aki to watch for months at this point. Just fun things, cute sleepover things – make Pinterest boards with concert outfit ideas and watch music videos on her telly. Drinking wine, getting a little tipsy, Niall and Aki convincing Y/N to figure out what Harry’s dick size is. 

That last bit was. . .well. . .

“I cannotttt, do that,” she tells them, but she’s giggling, because whatever wine Harry got them was some fancy brand that she thinks has more alcohol per serving than a normal one. Y/N wasn’t feeling dizzy or anything bad, but she was existing in a fun, giggly, little hazy bubble. If she drank one more glass, then she’d probably be drunk, but instead, she was eating one of the croissants that he had brought home. She had crumbs on her mouth and all over her hands, but she was leaning over the nest so she didn’t dirty it (her floors, however, were a different story), “He would – he would totally not answer.” 

“A non-answer means below 5,” Niall informs her, tipping his glass back to get the last swig, “I think he’ll answer, though, he gives that honest vibe. Even if he’s small, which I know he isn’t.” 

Aki rests her chin in her hands, snuggled around her bear, “Aren’t you curious? I’m curious. He walks like it’s heavy.” 

“Tell him it was a dare!” Niall says, voice quiet so that – if Harry was listening in – he wouldn’t hear. 

And, like, Y/N is pretty curious. She couldn’t help but wonder how big he was, like – isn’t she allowed to wonder things? They’re right, he is pretty honest, and he does walk like it’s massive. It would satiate some of her curiosity, like. . .y’know, if she’d be able to take him comfortably or not. Not like that would happen, for any reason! Just in case one day she wanted to get a dildo his exact size and figure it out. If she’d even have time to do that – Harry spends a lot of time here, and even when he leaves, she doesn’t necessarily feel like she has enough time to get herself off, so she hasn’t in a while. 

Y/N chooses to blame it on a combination of curiosity, Niall and Aki’s goading, and this pervading level of horniness that seems to strike every time she has had a drink or two. She does scramble up after she swipes her hands on her legs and her face on the inside of her shirt to rid herself of any crumbs. Y/N doesn’t stumble, but she does have to steady and steel herself for a minute, turning back to look at her friends one more time before pressing forward to her room. 

She does have the courtesy to knock on the door, but when he doesn’t answer, she remembers he said his headphones would be on. So she pops it open and peeks through to find Harry, sitting at her desk with his computer and everything out, headphones tucked around his ears. He seems to be doing his actual, normal job if the spreadsheets were anything to go by. And he must sense a secondary presence in the room, because he twists in the chair to face her, a soft smile twitching over his lips when he pulls the headphones down around his neck. 

“Hey, is everything okay? Were you grabbing something?” 

“Oh, um, yes,” she answers at first, but then shakes her head, “I mean – I’m grabbing information.” 

Harry chuckled a bit, “Information, yeah? What information?” 

She steps forward and shuts the door just barely enough that it isn’t open all the way, but Muffy would be able to butt her head against it and get inside. “This is a dare, by the way.” 

He seemed more pleased by this, leaning back in the chair a little with his hands resting over his tummy, “Oooh, okay, I love a game of truth or dare, no matter how old I get. Hit me with your question, I’m ready!” 

Y/N swallows thickly, because he may be ready, but she definitely isn’t. She’d made it this far, though, even though her liquid courage seemed to run out right when it was most imperative. “Ah, well. . .I was just wondering how big your. . .well, how big you are?” 

He blinks rapidly for a second, like the questions registering in his brain, “How big I am?” Y/N nods, her face feeling hot, like you could crack an egg and cook it right on her face, “Like. . .like, my. . .” he trails off, then looks at his crotch, the loose shorts he was wearing, that would be looser if his thighs weren’t so big and strong (and in desperate need of biting, from her mouth, actually), “That?” 

“Uh, yes, that,” she agrees, “If that’s okay for me to know. And then relay.” 

Harry laughs a little, breathless and a little stunned, it seems like. Which is fair – they really don’t talk about things like that together. Ever since Y/N had embarrassingly cried after asking about his BDSM experience, and then he later on explained it to her via text – they’d actually pretended like that never happened. Or, at least verbally – Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it most of the time. 

“Sure, I don’t mind if you know, or if you tell,” he shrugs, “I haven’t measured myself in a while, but I don’t think it’s something that changes over time necessarily?” Y/N also shrugs, because she does not know, actually, but she’s holding her breath waiting for his reply, “So, I’m around 8ish inches? I think, give or take a couple of centimeters.”  

Her eyes went wide, mouth falling open, “Ah, wow,” was all she could muster to say, “That’s – you’re huge.” 

He has the nerve to get all pink, “Mm, yeah? I guess it is quite big,” the blush spreads from his face, down toward his neck, “Is that. . .a good enough response?” 

She swallows hard again, nods again, “Yep!” Because words escape her at the best of times, and especially in moments like these, where she’s certain all the blood in her brain has rushed below her pajama bottoms, “Thank you! Enjoy your – enjoy your night!” 

He laughs breathlessly, “You too, baby,” he waves and twists back to the computer while Y/N tries to be normal, walking out the door, closing it behind her, and walking back out to the living room. 

Aki and Niall are awaiting the news anxiously. Aki held Muffy against her chest, where she was purring and making biscuits, and Niall was cradling a fruit pizza slice like it was pure gold (it sort of was). “So?” Aki breaks the silence. 

Y/N closes her eyes, then lifts 8 fingers. 

“Oh my god, I fucking knew it!” Niall exclaims, maybe a little too loudly. 

                                                            .                            .                       .

Y/N’s scared. 

She didn’t start the day scared. No, she started the day feeling safe, as she always does with Harry snuggled around her body. Really, she hadn’t realized how much she had started depending on him until she was sleeping – or trying to sleep – on her pallet she’d made for their sleepover. Y/N never had trouble sleeping on it before, but that night, she had needed to be pressed against Niall’s blanket-stealing self to feel even a little like she could fall asleep. And even then, she was struggling more than she usually does. Part of her, several times, almost thought she should get up and crawl into bed with Harry. Instead, she just pitifully pretended he was the body beside her and imagined how his arm wraps around her and holds her close, the rise and fall of his chest, the sleepy little murmurs he does when she wiggles even a little. That did eventually push her into sleep, though a fitful rest at best. 

Anyway, this morning in particular, she was snuggled up against him, feeling peaceful and soft. Y/N had work this morning, and usually he was up before her, but he’d been sleepier lately. The last couple of days, he’d been out late into the night, only coming home when Y/N had already started shutting down for bed. He looked tired too, even though he was still smiling sweetly for her, and kept apologizing nonstop for not being home for dinner. 

“The end of all this should be soon,” Harry told her one night, after brushing his teeth. He’d started ditching a sleep shirt, so Y/N was being greeted with an eyeful of bare torso that she knew she’d be pressed against later that night, “I can feel it. They’re doing stupid shit – the kind of stuff you do when you’re backed into a corner.” 

Y/N’s face was flush against her pillow. Muffy snuggled against the curve of her belly, “What stuff?” 

Harry paused, a dark look crossed over his face – not at her, necessarily, but just like he’s remembering just exactly what they did, “Are you sure you want to know?” He asked, and it made something in her chest stir. 

“Never mind,” she held Muffy a little closer, “It seems like it’s been hard for you, though. Is there anything I can do?” 

He shook his head, a soft little noise in his throat, “Just keep being you, that’s all I need,” he said, in a voice so incredibly gentle she almost wanted to turn into a puddle, “You have no idea how nice it has been to come home to you, y’know? Usually, I’m dealing with all this bullshit and go back to an empty place, but it’s just – so good,” he turned to face her, lying his cheek against his palm, “To come back here, and it’s just cozy and sweet, it smells good, and you and Muffy are always here so cute. It settles something inside me.” 

Y/N smiled, feeling like she could buzz out of her skin, “Really?” 

“Yeah,” he told her, then reached out, and for the first time awake, he’d scooted across the mattress preemptively, looping an arm over her waist and wiggling his legs between hers, “It’s nice.” 

So, yeah, she woke up feeling all warm and cozy, happy. Y/N tried not to wake Harry when she was crawling out of bed, but failed miserably because he could probably wake up to the sound of an eyelash falling. His arms tightened around her, and Y/N huffed, “Harry, I need to get ready for work.” 

“No,” he whined, and it was so cute that Y/N could have turned around and bit him, “Not ready for the day yet.” 

Y/N giggled, slid her hand over his wrist and then his hand, slid her fingers into the spaces between his, and pulled up, “I can tell.” She told him, “You’re never asleep longer than me. But I gotta get ready.” 

He let her get up just a little further, but then his arm tightened around her again, and this time his body moved, his face pressing into her lower back. Y/N laughed a little louder this time. She batted at him, ticklish from his nose digging into her spine, “Harry!” 

“Ughh, I know, I know,” his voice vibrated against her, but still, he nuzzled against her, then breathed in deep and giggled when she gasped and wriggled. Y/N is all tangled in the blankets, twisted to look at him. He was staring at her with one eye squinted closed still, and a sleepy smile. Harry looked extra cute when he was just woken up – she couldn’t believe that this was a gaze she hadn’t been privy to before. His voice was lower too, rougher, and Y/N hated that it made her insides all twisted up, “I’ll make breakfast.” 

She got ready, she ate breakfast, and Harry took her to work. All normal things. He dropped her off in the garage, Y/N met Niall outside of the elevators, they rode up to their floor, and Y/N had a semi-boring work day. Nothing super exciting happened. Now that the album rollout had finished for the bigger artist from before, they had separated the floor into different segments for a variety of smaller artists to start working on their marketing plans. The music industry was oversaturated with a lot of the same stuff, so sometimes it’s difficult to get people hyped for artists without a largely established fan base. Still, they try their best to help push them into the public eye a little more. 

Y/N doesn’t hear from Harry much today, but that was the usual as of late. He’s been busy, so she mostly gets a couple of messages from him in the morning and nothing else until she sees him to pick her up later that night. Even if he has to turn around and drop her off at home, he never misses the timing to come get her, so she hasn’t ever felt the need to remind him. It’s why she isn’t worried when she hasn’t heard from him, after she blew kisses to Niall and Aki, who – both of their groups had to stay back for a meeting with the artist that their group was assigned. Y/N would have her meeting with them next week, so she didn’t have to worry about it. 

It’s quiet when she’s going down the stairwell, not interested in the borderline traffic jam of the elevators that comes with clocking out and everyone rushing home. Her feet echoed on the stairs, the click of her flats. Y/N was humming to herself, a song that Aki got stuck in her head from an edit she saw, but she had no idea what the song was, and when she looked through the comments, none of them said what it was. She’s tired, excited to take off her shoes in Harry’s car, and she wondered if they would have time to stop and get a fruit tea on the way home. 

But when Y/N exited the stairwell, into the parking garage, Harry wasn’t in his typical spot. Which was weird. . .was he parked a little further down? She isn’t sure – she clutched her bag a little closer to her shoulder and started to walk between the cars. As she does so, she starts to unzip her purse so that she can grab her phone and make sure that he hadn’t messaged her saying that he’d be late, or that she’d need to take the subway. 

Maybe it was her intuition that made her stomach twist a little. That same cold feeling of panic rushes through her thighs that had been there the night that they’d been getting followed, like her brain was telling her something was wrong, Harry wouldn’t be late without calling her, and –

As soon as she turned around to hoof it back inside, the SUV she’d been standing beside opened up. She’s almost immediately discombobulated, like when you trip and fall but you don’t realize you’re falling yet, and which way is up doesn’t make sense, and you aren’t sure that you fell until you’re on the ground looking up. Y/N opened her mouth with a mix between a gasp and a scream, thrashing against the sudden force pulling her. A piece of fabric is stuffed between her mouth and quickly tied behind her head. Her body collides with the backseat of a car that wasn’t Harry’s, and another scream builds up in her throat, though it’s muffled. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” a voice she’d never heard spoke to her, and Y/N’s eyes are suddenly covered too, she isn’t sure by what, but no amount of her moving her head and bucking her body is getting it to stop, “You need to calm down and stop screaming.” Y/N doesn’t listen, because why would she, but then the voice gets serious again, more stern, “I’m serious. I don’t want to knock you out, okay? I just need to transport you from point A to point B, and I’d rather do that with as little force as possible. But I will, if I need to.” 

Y/N is breathless, her chest heaving as she’s repositioned in the car that she can tell is already moving. She doesn’t know what to do. Her heart is beating faster than a rabbit’s, and her stomach is turning. Her eyes want to swell up with tears because she’s feeling incredibly helpless, and what’s worse, she doesn’t know if Harry’s okay. 

“Okay, okay, just relax. You aren’t wanted for anythin’ bad, yeah? Honestly, this is probably the least violent reason we’ve taken someone.” 

“Promise you that ain’t gonna make her feel any better.” Someone else said they were further away – around the front seat, she thinks, most likely the one driving. Her toes curl up in her shoes, Y/N whines in her throat, but feels herself getting buckled in. “Really, we’re hoping that if this goes south, that bloke you’ve been with don’t try killing us. Our job is transport, nothing more, nothing less; we don’t want a scratch on you.” 

Y/N makes another noise, the fabric tastes bland and rubs against her tongue weirdly, getting wet from her spit. Through muffled words, she asks them where he is, but they really can’t understand her. Now the guy in the back with her tucked his fingers into the fabric and pulled it down. Spit drags down her chin, and it’s a sensory issue that she’d deal with later. It smells like leather in here, even though the seat she was on wasn't leather. The air is blasting, and though she’s sweating, she’s got goosebumps all over her skin. 

“Where is he?” She won’t say his name. Y/N remembered distinctly Harry telling her the night they met that he normally doesn’t tell people his name – that he’d only been honest with her because he felt bad, and it was a show of good faith. “What did you do?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” the guy beside her said, and she hated that she couldn’t see him or read his face, “Seriously, they just sliced a tire or two to keep him stuck. Is he a cop or summat? He was sort of scaring us when we were following him.” 

“Yeah, what’s up with the gun, hm? He’s got it strapped ‘round his waist like he needs it in a quick second.” 

“We are not interested in any of that if he comes looking for you.” 

Y/N is confused. Did they not know Harry was who he was? They must have really thought he was merely her boyfriend who carried a gun around. Does that mean Finley didn’t know who Harry was? Did he also just see him as her dutiful boyfriend who was just always around? They were worried about him coming to kill them, but they must have just been weirded out by the gun. Which is fair enough – Y/N is also concerned when she sees someone with a weapon and no uniform out in public. 

“Where are we going?” Y/N asks – for no reason, she isn’t that scared of these guys. She isn’t, by any means, feeling any warm and fuzzies, but they do seem adamantly against hurting her, at least. Was Harry’s presence really that frightening? Or did they actually know what he did, and they were pretending not to? 

“Can’t tell you,” the one beside her says, “But it’ll be a quick drive, yeah? They just need you for something.” He pats her shoulder, and Y/N startles, “Oh! Sorry – don’t know what it is, but it ain't bad.”

They talk amongst each other the rest of the way while her brain supplies her with the worst possible scenarios. Yeah, they’re telling her that it isn’t bad, but they could also just be trying to settle her so she doesn’t keep fighting. She doesn’t know these guys – they have no reason to be telling her the truth or anything like it. She would move her hands, but he’s got her wrists gripped in one of them, and he’s holding firm. Didn’t Harry tell her there was trafficking going on? Guns and drugs for sure, but she couldn’t help but get a sick feeling that there could be more to it than just that. Like maybe Harry had been sparing her, so she thought it was only those two and nothing more. 

Y/N guesses that she and Harry never discussed what she should do in a situation like this. Maybe they should have had some sort of game plan for her. How she should act or what she should do. For now, she thinks it might be smart to conserve her energy in case an opportunity to run away arises. Still, the feeling in her legs is all but gone from fear alone. She thinks if she were to stand up right now, then she’d crumple to the ground almost instantly. They would probably have to hold her up to get her inside of. . .wherever it was.  

It smelled like leather and cologne; it was clogging up her nose. The air in here felt thick from smoke, but she guessed they wouldn’t be cracking a window because of her right now, and the chance she would scream. The windows were tinted when she’d been walking by them before, so she knew nobody could see inside. She hears cars pass them, so they still must be in a heavily populated area, which brought her some comfort at least. If they were headed toward country roads or highways, then she would’ve contemplated just chucking herself out of the car and hoping for the best. 

There are about ten minutes that pass before they slow to a stop somewhere. The car hums softly, and the sound of a text being sent echoes in a near-silent car. Y/N stays still, like she’s hoping they’d forget she was there if she didn’t move a single muscle, but of course, she had no such luck. Movement comes from her right, “Again, I don’t want to knock you out or nothin’, just want to take you from point A to point B.” Something is looping around her wrist, then twisting it behind her back, and the fabric is pulled back into her mouth despite a murmured protest from her. That was her last warning, before the car door popped open and she felt herself being tugged outside. Or, well – outside of the car, at least. From the echo and the lack of wind, she could tell she was in a garage of some kind. 

Y/N is ushered into what feels like an elevator. Her heart speeds up again, and the rush of her blood roaring through her ears is all she can focus on. She whips her head left to right like that would help her see through the fabric at all, but it doesn’t. It does, however, earn her a small grunt from whoever has their fingers wrapped around her bicep. “Watch your head,” he tells her, voice a little lower than it was in the car, “You’re g’na knock us both out if we hit each other.” 

She would love to knock him out, probably, but she would like to stay awake and lucid through the duration of whatever this was. The tears that would have spilled had been rescinded for now, like her body knew it was not the time to get emotional. She really couldn’t afford that, right now. If she were hiccuping and snotty, sniffling, it’d be harder to focus. 

When the elevator comes to a stop, she’s brought off of it. There are no voices or anything heard in this new area they have her in; their feet click and echo on what she would guess is linoleum or something. The staticky hum above her head is giving fluorescent lighting vibes – it sounds like her job when she turns up early enough in the morning that the only people there are the manager and smut-reading Holly. Was she in an office? 

She’s brought somewhere and pressed down into a chair. It bounces slightly and rolls, before there are two sets of shoes walking away, out of the room, “I reckon you hurry,” one of the voices calls back, the one who was driving, “The bloke she’s with seems like he could change a tire fast.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, then flinches again when the fabric is pulled from her mouth again (and seriously, they need to get this damp piece off her neck before she freaks out). Then the fabric is pulled away from her eyes, and it takes her a second to adjust to the blinding light, blinking several times until they adjust to the world after being hidden away. When her vision finally clears, she sees she’s in an office, like she thought. It looks like she’s in the boss's office, though, on a high floor if the windows were anything to go by, showing the tops of several buildings. In the chair across from her sat Finley, and behind him, leaning on the desk, stood someone with a similar complexion to hers and hair that was maybe just one shade away from being her own, even pulled back in the same style that Y/N had hers in. Their outfits, however, do not match, because this woman, whom she’s guessing is Antonyia, is dressed in designer clothes from head to toe. Y/N had a linen button-up and a skirt that Harry had called her a garden fairy this morning. 

“You’re fucking joking.” Is the first thing Y/N says, her fists clenching behind her back, “What the hell?” 

“I know,” Finley grimaces, “I really didn’t want it to come to this, but you practically ran away from me in the mall when I tried to set up a date, so –” 

“Yeah, because it was fucking creepy!” Y/N exclaims, “You stood me up once and then expected me to just jump at the chance to get coffee?” 

Finley raised his hands, “Listen, I’m well aware that that hadn’t been the best way to go about it,” he motions toward Antonyia, “She actually told me that I couldn’t have come off creepier. But you seemed pretty resolute in not speaking with me, so I had to take a more. . .intense approach.” He then motions toward her, referencing the state of her. Y/N’s heart is still thudding, but with something like anger too – this is so fucking stupid! 

“Where’s – where’s my boyfriend?” Y/N phrases it instead, trying to gauge if Finley had any idea who Harry was. She was still careful not to give his name or anything, though she stumbled a little over her words. 

Finley peeks at his watch, like they’re on a time crunch. “He’s fine,” he waves her off, like it’s not a concern. “The twins slashed his tire somewhere with dodgy cell service. It’s why he couldn’t come get you.” 

Y/N huffed, “So what, you’ve been following me? Is that why you knew where to pick me up?” He nods, “This is fucking crazy.” Because why has Y/N gone almost all of her life without being followed, only for two different sides of the same debacle to have followed her at some point in the last couple of months? This is ridiculous! 

“Listen, I know, and we really don’t have time for all of this, okay? We have a flight out of here, but we have some people following us. I’m hoping we sent them on something close to a wild goose chase to buy us a bit more time, but they’re smart – they’d be able to find us eventually. There was a mic in my house, I found, so we gave them some false info as to where we’d be. Where she’d be –” he nodded again, toward Antonyia standing behind him, still silent for now, “So really, we just need you to pretend to be her. We’ll get you changed into her clothes and have you down at the pier, where they think I’m meeting her at my yacht for a private dinner. While they are confused by who you are, she and I will be elsewhere, sneaking out. Nobody gets hurt, everything is nice and easy.” 

Y/N’s brows are furrowed, pinched right in the center. 

“Why would I do that?” She inquires, “What do I get out of helping you? Why would I want to when you kidnapped me off a lot!” 

Finley patted his pocket, “I’ll cut you a check.” He said simply, because all rich people think that everything could be solved with money, “10,000 quid? More?” 

And, had Y/N had no idea what was going on, she might have been convinced. Money for pretending to be someone? It was kind of hard to beat, when the most she’d have to do is probably walk onto a yacht, as long as nobody started shooting at her or something. But she couldn’t be a part of whatever the hell this was. And she didn’t want money that was pulled from a gun trafficking ring, or drugs, or anything that is meant to ruin people’s lives. 

“I don’t want to.” She told him. 

Antonyia rolls her eyes, “I told you this was a waste of fucking time.” She pushes herself off the desk and storms off, shouldering through the door and leaving Y/N alone with Finley, who gave a deep, heavy sigh. 

“How about you think about it, hm? I’ll give you some time.” 

He follows after her, and then Y/N is alone. Or, at least she thought she would be. Another person replaces Finley – this guy is quiet, with what definitely looks like a gun underneath his shirt. He stands with his hands behind his back and a bored look on his face, and Y/N wants to cry again. 

“Just don’t move or anything.” He tells her, and then goes back to being quiet. 

Y/N nods. 

Surely Harry would realize something has happened to her, right? 

                                                               .                        .                      . 

Harry is immediately thrown off when his low-pressure light comes on for his tire. He’s thankful that he has a spare, sure, and that he knows how to change a tire, but he had literally just started driving when all of a sudden it felt like he was practically on the rim. Something nasty settles in his gut when he checks the time – it’s too close to when he picks Y/N up from work, and when he tries to send a message to her to stay inside, or to go with Niall and Aki – it won’t go through. He has no service at all. 

All of this was very horror movie sketchy, and he half expected Jeepers Creepers to roll up on him or something in some big, evil truck. It does put a more intense kick in his step so that he can get to her. 

What really makes him feel sick, though, is when he checks out his tire and finds a thin gash right between the grooves. Too long and precise to have been an accident. This was definitely on purpose, and if there hadn’t already been a sweat building up on his neck, then he would have broken out into one almost instantly. This was bad. This was really, really bad. 

Harry started working even quicker, looking at the time, imagining Y/N walking out of the doors into the parking garage waiting for him. Someone else being there instead of him. Fuck. Fuck! 

The spare goes on easily, thankfully, but he has to waste time airing it up, so there weren’t any other mishaps on the way. He’s too far fucking away, even if he drove well over the speed limit, Y/N would have already been out of work. Did someone know who he was? Or did they just notice he drives her around all of the time? They had kept the fuck who was following them around, and, from what he’d told them, he had no clue who Harry was or what they wanted from Y/N. That he was paid 10,000 quid to follow a girl in her mid-20s and see what times she would most likely be alone (Harry had punched him again for that – he couldn’t help himself). He’d just thought Harry was her boyfriend – an overly dutiful one. And he hadn’t been released until all of this was done, so that he couldn’t expose Harry or Adam for being involved. 

Harry felt like something was coming; he just didn't know what. They finally had a lead that he’d be down at the pier tonight with Antonyia on his yacht, which would be a perfect escape route because it does take some time to steal and rig up another person’s boat to chase after them. They could be off into the night sea, and nobody would have a clue where they disappeared off to. But his assistant is the one who spilled, after being snatched outside of his house by Adam and being scruffed up a bit. They had plans to stake the place out until they showed up – Harry had been down at the pier, but was hurrying to take Y/N home, drop her off where he knew she’d be nice and safe, and then come back.

He stopped for gas, and then he came out, drove for a while, and his tire is completely fucked. Wherever they had sliced into it had been perfect to only lose steam when he was far from the gas station – enough that he wouldn’t be able to make a call. This is so fucked. 

Harry steps on the gas. He’s whipping and weaving through cars in a way that would give his driving instructor from his teens a reason to go back in time and never pass him. His palms are sweating, and his mind feels frantic – this is the first time in a very long time that Harry feels legitimately scared. Scared for what they’ll do to her – scared for what she’ll say. They never talked about what she should do if something like this should happen, because he didn’t want to worry her. He had vowed to always be there for her so she wouldn’t ever need to worry about something like this. 

God, he doesn’t even want to think about what could be happening. His only solace is offered in the fact that they want her for their own benefit. That they need her to be a stand-in, and to be a stand-in for some wannabe kingpin’s girl, you can’t really have them limping or bleeding anywhere, or else it would be too obviously a ruse. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself to calm down. He needs to check her location – he keeps his phone up on the little tracking dot for when it finally switches from ‘No Location Found’ to a little blue dot. 

His poor baby – she’s probably so fucking scared. 

If they laid even a single finger on her, he’ll fucking kill them. 

                                                                .                          .                        .

Y/N thinks 30ish minutes pass before Finley comes back into the room. It’s longer than she imagined him giving her, since they seem like they crunched for time, but if they don’t know who Harry is, then they must think the most he’d do is call the police or something. They wouldn’t know that Harry has her location, and honestly, whoever took her didn’t seem to be digging around in her purse at any point. Her purse was on Finley’s desk, actually, just out of reach. If anyone was calling her, she’d have no clue because she has the ringer off during work days, but she could only imagine that Harry realized something was fucked by now. 

“Any thoughts?” Finley inquired, “We really don’t have time for you to sit and chew on it for any longer.” 

“Well, I’m still refusing.” She huffs, swallowing hard. 

This time, he rolls his eyes, “Okay, listen,” he began, lowering so that his face was mere centimeters from hers. She could smell liquor on his breath, and her nose scrunched because of it, turning away so that it was hitting the side of her face. He grabs her chin, though, and yanks her to look at him, and a distressed noise leaves her throat, “I was trying to be nice, yeah? Give you the illusion of a choice and even put some money in your fucking pocket, but if you’re going to be a bitch about this, then I can be a bitch too. Either you come willingly, get paid, and keep your mouth fucking shut, or we force you, no money, and you’ll be lucky not to end up at the bottom of the fucking oce–” 

There’s commotion outside. Finley gets distracted in whatever he was saying, eyes darting to the side like he was looking out the door. Y/N cranes her neck the best she can to look as well, his hand still on her chin. There were more people than it had sounded like when she first came in, all scattered about, moving, some rushing toward the left and some rushing away. Y/N is confused – she can’t make out what they’re saying, but muted whispers become shouting. 

There’s gun shots, and Y/N almost screams, a full body jump where she nearly launches herself off the chair. Her blood runs cold – is she really about to get trapped in the middle of a fucking shoot-out? Oh my god, this seriously could not get any worse. Unless – was it Harry? Was it Harry’s team? Or was it the cops? 

Antonyia, who had previously been out of the room, rushes in while the guy who had been armed rushes out. Just as she does, Y/N sees the glimmer of Harry around the corner. Relief floods through her almost instantly, and her mouth opens, “Harry!” She screamed before a palm collided with her mouth, muffling her, but it was too late – from where he was, he may not be able to see her, but he definitely could hear her. Y/N can’t see anymore because Antonyia slams the door shut and locks it. 

“Fuck!” Finley yells out, especially because now, Y/N does start fighting against him. Harry’s here; he could get her out of this. If she fought before, she wouldn’t know the first thing to do to get away, especially since there were fucking armed guys lining the office floor. But now, she stood more of a chance. Now it would be better. She wriggles and bucks and tries to flail, but he grips her tight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Antonyia, get the gun.” 

“The gun?” She asks, shaking her hand, “What gun? What gun?” 

“The – fuck, the one in my drawer.” 

Antonyia runs over to the desk and starts to pull at the drawers, but all of them are locked. She keeps yanking and yanking, noticeably worked up, frantic, panicking. Y/N thinks both of their hearts are bouncing out of their chests – honestly, hers too, especially the more she hears happening outside. There’s yelling and hitting; there hadn’t been any more gunshots, but Y/N doesn’t particularly trust that. 

“They’re all fucking locked!” 

“The key is on the table, idiot, you have to –” 

The door handle twisted. Finley stops talking, Antonyia stops moving, Y/N swallows hard, and wonders if her heart is going to burst right out of her throat. Once whoever is turning it registers that it’s locked, they let go of the handle. All of them can hear the person take a couple of steps back, the shift in the flooring outside the office. Then there is a thud. It makes all of them jump, the door rattling against its hinges. 

Then there’s another one. 

And another one. 

On the fourth, there’s a sickening crack and the door busts open. There stands Harry, pissed off, and intimidating with his gun in hand. Finley scrambles up and covers as much of his body with Y/N’s as he can. Y/N says breathlessly, “Harry,” before her eyes really do start welling up with tears. Her hands are shaking – she knows she’s safer now than she has been, but she wants to be with him, pressed up against him, up under his arm. 

Harry points his gun at Antonyia without thinking twice. 

“Get your hands off her,” Harry’s voice is low, demanding, and Y/N doesn’t doubt for a second that he means his next sentence, “I’ll shoot her, and then I’ll kill you, if you don’t let go of her right fucking now.” 

And Finley is an idiot, in most things it seems, but for once, he does appear to make a smart decision. Y/N feels the pressure around her body loosen as his arms fall from her, and Y/N trips forward toward Harry, while more people rush in through the door behind him. They’re swarming with orders and yelling, Y/N doesn’t know if they’re cops, or detectives, or just people in Harry’s group. She doesn’t know, and she really doesn’t give a fuck either, as she stumbles into Harry’s body and collides against him. 

Y/N buries her face into his chest while he presses the back of her head with his palm, “I know, baby, I know, I know, I’m so sorry, I’m here now.” He loosens the ties around her back so her arms are free. She nods, and when he pulls her face from his chest to have her look at him, he locks eyes with her, “Yeah? I’m here now, baby, I’m here now. You’re okay.” 

She peeks to the side to see Finley face down on the floor, and Antonyia with her arms tied behind her back. Harry guides her face back to his chest, “I’m taking you home.” 

“But – but don’t they need you to –” 

“No, none of that shit matters anymore, okay? I’m taking you home,” he is resolute, scratching gently at her scalp with his nails, when someone hands him her purse, “C’mon, baby, we’re going to leave here. But when we do, I need you to keep your eyes closed for me. And I mean it, don’t open them for anything.” 

Y/N takes a shaky breath, nodding, having some idea what that means. She huddles closer to him, squeezing her eyes shut, and Harry starts walking her through the door, moving her around. There’s still a lot of commotion and ruckus around her, but she keeps her eyes closed as he told her to. Y/N doesn’t want to see anything that was going to traumatize her further. This was traumatizing enough without any visuals, really. 

But they make it to the elevator, Y/N keeps her eyes closed the whole way down, and is guided out to the car. It’s very similar to how she’d been taken up there, only this time she feels safe. She doesn’t open her eyes until Harry has her seated in the car and she lets them flutter to the darkness of a parking garage again, feeling as he snaps the seat belt across her. Harry, for the most part, looks relatively unscathed. Clear of any bruises or scratches, no sight of blood, whether it be his own or someone else's.  Harry holds the side of her face again, petting over her forehead, then her temple with his thumb, “Did they hurt you anywhere?” He pulls the gag off of her, and tosses it on the floor of his car, shaking his head, “Did the kick you or punch you? Cut you? Anything?” 

“No,” she shakes her head, “No, no they didn’t I – they were worried to, the guys who took me – they said you seemed scary, so they didn’t want – didn’t want to do anything.” She answers, “Finley sort of started to threaten it, but nothing happened. My wrists are just a little sore.” 

He nods, like he’s cataloging everything she’s saying while also doing a brief overview of her. Then, in a moment extra tender, he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to her forehead, “Okay,” he nestles his nose against the top of her head, “Okay, good. As long as you’re okay.” 

Harry shuts the door and comes around on the other side. He doesn’t even wait a second before he pulls out, “I hope you  don’t mind, but early today I installed a more intense security system in your flat.” 

“I don’t mind, but –” she pinches at the fabric beside her thigh, “I – if you have to leave tonight at any point, I understand, but –” 

“Baby, listen to me,” he cuts her off, then reaches over and places his hand on her thigh. It’s warm, where the heat from his palm seeps into her skin. “The only way I’m leaving your side is if you tell me you want me gone. Do you want me to leave?” 

“No,” she replies, “Of course not, I want – I want you to stay.” 

“Then I’m staying.” He replies decisively, “I’m staying until you ask me to leave.” 

Y/N hardly thinks that will ever happen. 

                                                                       .                        .                       .

Once they got home, Harry showed her the security system and explained to her that if she didn’t type in the keypad and use her fingerprint within one minute of entering the home, it would send an alert to his phone, and subsequently, the police. He registered her index finger into the system and told her that he could delete his if she wanted, but Y/N told him it wouldn’t be necessary. 

She feels too shaken to eat, but Harry warms her up a little bit of the soup he’d made yesterday for dinner. Y/N can stomach it at least, since it’s light, and she tries to scrub her brain clean of any memories of the last couple of hours. When she realizes that it is not going to work, she says she needs a shower, and Harry gets it started for her. He sets the temperature and tells her he’ll warm her towel in the dryer again. 

But she was still shaken, nervous, and a little jumpy. 

“Do you think you could maybe stay in here with me? Like – like while I’m in there?” 

Harry’s gaze, which had already been quite soft, softened even more. He agreed, folding the towel in his lap and sitting on the toilet, “Okay, Sweetheart, I can do that,” he told her, “How was your morning, hm? Was separating into different teams stressful?” 

Y/N knows he’s trying to get her mind off of what happened, and she lets him. She prattles on about the new artist, about some of their newer marketing tactics they’ll be utilizing, how streaming has influenced the industry beyond physical copies. . .a ton of shit that she usually doesn’t bother getting into. It made her feel better, though. When she was done, she turned the water off, and he stuck his hand past the curtain and into the shower. Y/N took it from him, looped it around her body, then tugged it open. 

“I want to wear one of your shirts.” She sort of demanded, and Harry got on it right away. Y/N followed after him while he dug in his suitcases, and made a noise when she saw the one she wanted. It was just a plain shirt, but it’s one he slept in before he started forgoing a shirt altogether. She wears that and just some underwear, and then brushes her teeth before crawling into bed. 

Harry showers with the door open while Y/N scrolled on her phone and snuggled a concerned Muffy, who kept purring and pressing herself further and further against Y/N’s neck until the kitten fell asleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, threatening to pull her into the mattress. She went from a wired adrenaline rush to feeling waterlogged. Her brain was begging her to sleep. 

But she couldn’t quite settle until Harry crawled into bed beside her. Neither fake any pretenses. Y/N scooted over to him instantly, and Harry opened his arms for her readily, until she was pressed as close to him as Muffy was to her. 

“It doesn’t have to be now,” he murmured softly, “But I think you should talk to a therapist about what happened. We have one that works with us – I see them every now and then. They already know what we do, so there’s no risk of them exposing anything if you’re worried about it. It’d be good to work through some of these. . .these experiences, you know? Only when you’re ready.” 

Y/N hummed softly, let her eyes close, and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

It lasts for only a few hours. Eventually, she stirs like she always does, still in Harry’s arms but faced away from him. She batted blindly around for her phone before finding it, squinting open, and seeing the time. It was late – 1 AM, and the moon was seeping through the curtains. Y/N didn’t let Harry turn all of the lights off last night, so her fairy lights twinkle, lining the ceiling and bringing a sense of warmth and comfort that not being submerged in total darkness provides. Her left shoulder aches, so she has no idea how long she’s been lying on it. She twists around in his arms carefully so she wouldn’t wake him up, but when she turns all the way around, she finds his eyes already open, gaze already set on her. 

She jumps a little, a soft sleepy sound in her throat that makes him smile, “Sorry,” he says quietly, “Did I scare you?” 

Y/N pouts at him a little, “Have you not – have you not been to sleep?” 

He shakes his head, “No, but I’ve been watching you.” 

His hand, as it has several times that day, finds her face again. He cradles the side of it, petting her like the feeling of her skin beneath his thumb is confirming that she’s real. That things ended the absolute best that they could, and that she was uninjured. Like it was his fault, and he would be spending a great deal of time trying to rectify it. 

“This wasn’t on you,” she speaks as his fingers trace down her cheeks, over the curve of them, “It wasn’t your fault. I hope you’re not blaming yourself.” 

“How could I not?” He replies, “I should’ve been there.” 

Y/N’s brows furrow, “You can’t be everywhere all the time, you’re one man,” she feels like she’s reminding him, “And they slashed your tire. There was no way.” 

“But I –” 

“There’s no buts about it.” 

He still seems unsettled, “I put you in danger.” 

“I was in danger the moment they realized I looked like her – they didn’t even know who you were.” She reasons, “You’re the only reason why I’m safe and sound right now.” 

“I just –” 

Y/N doesn’t know what came over her. Maybe she wanted him to stop doubting himself and blaming his actions for why tonight went how it did. Maybe she wanted it so that he could feel how real she was and how okay she was, despite all of it. Maybe it was really just for herself, actually, because she wanted to be close and feel close to him. Whatever the reason, she surges forward and presses her mouth to his in a searing kiss. 

She feels a little dramatic to say it, but it feels like two pieces coming together – like something meant to click into place finally has. Harry only takes a second before he reciprocates, deepening it, leaning into her mouth, and sliding the hand that had been on her face to the back of her head again. He holds her tightly, and when she parts for her tiny breath, he only chases after her lips until they meet again. It’s nice, his lips are soft, she feels warm and puddled. 

Once he does part, the tip of his nose brushes against hers, his eyes closed as he mouths over her again. He presses her from her side to her back, covering her body and supporting himself with a forearm on the opposite side of her. A soft noise leaves him, like he’s been wanting this – needing this. The way you moan after taking a drink when your mouth is so dry. 

Y/N parts her lips and carefully slips her tongue out, caressing the seam of his mouth. Harry opens readily, slides his tongue against her own. She moans a little this time, from her throat, feeling the careful weight he presses against her chest, the way his leg slides from her side, between her thighs with a knee bent to keep himself even just a little raised. Y/N wanted his full body weight on her, though. She liked how it felt to be completely covered by him. It’s why she snakes her arms around his shoulder and drags him down further. Her hands press against his back, feeling the strength of the muscles there, how easy it is for him to support himself on mostly one arm while still kissing her. 

One of his hands finds her throat. Not to do anything, just to lie there, dragging his thumb across her pulse. He nips on her bottom lip, she thinks so he can feel her throat vibrate with the whine that leaves her, before he soothes it over with his wet tongue. When he drags himself away, it’s only to smear kisses against her chin, down her jawline, against the opposite side of her throat where his hand isn’t resting. Not only is he kissing her, but he’s rubbing his nose against her, breathing in slowly and deep, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin. Parts of her he sucks into his mouth, between his teeth to make blooming marks. Y/N’s okay with it – she likes it. She’s calling into work tomorrow anyway, so he might as well mark her all up. 

If he’s satisfied with one spot, he moves to another. He does it again and again, until his lips are dotting around her collarbones and his teeth are meeting her shoulder. His hand slides from her neck, down, and he hovers just above her breast before he leans away. Y/N’s eyes had been closed, but at the sudden departure, she blinked them open. 

“You have to tell me to stop,” he says, breathless, chest heaving as his gaze darts around her face, her neck, where his hand hovers, “I’ve wanted this for so long, baby, but if you don’t want it, then tell me to stop.” 

“I want you,” she mewls, rocking her hips to press herself closer, “Please, I want to feel close, I want you.” 

He kisses her again, this time with his hands skating up her shirt and finding her boobs. Harry kneads them, squeezes them – he seems to like how they feel against his hands, and how if he holds just right and squeezes just so, the flesh will start to pool around his knuckles. He flicks her nipples beneath his fingers before kissing down her neck again, only this time he goes further, stopping at her tits and dragging his tongue over the fabric. Y/N whines again, reaching for the hem of the shirt and hiking it up, up, up, until she can pull it over the swell of her breasts. 

From her POV, it looks like Harry had just been bestowed a feast before his very eyes. He pulls her nipple into his mouth and swirls around it until it pebbles up for him, feeling the ridge of each bump with the tip of his tongue. Harry doesn’t do the annoying thing she’s seen plenty of men do in porn, where they just keep popping on and popping off. He sticks on, only pulling his lips back when he’s sucking at them, before pulling more skin into his mouth so he can lave against it again. Y/N’s nipples haven’t ever been the most sensitive, but the show he’s putting on is making her feel like they are. She’s getting wetter, the thin material of the panties starting to stick to her lips as he dots kisses across her chest to her other nipple. 

Y/N’s fingers find his hair, carding through the strands and gripping tightly at the nape of his neck and at the top of his head. Her chest heaves with every little breath she takes, and he chuckles against her when she starts to press his head down, arching her back. 

“I didn’t take you for a head pusher, Sweetheart,” he murmurs against her skin, but he gets the memo, dragging the tip of his nose and his upper lip down her torso, like he was drawing a line. Her stomach jumps, ticklish from these feathery kisses he starts giving her just below her belly button, “You want me to make you feel good, hm? Want Daddy to make you feel good?”

She shakes all over and moans, a heated coil twirling in her belly the way it always does when she’s reading something she’s surprised that she’s into. His hands are slipping down her sides, skating along the skin until he gets to her hips. Her hips twitch under his hold, but he presses her down and makes sure she can’t move, and she thinks if she tried hard enough, she could cum just from this and her clit pushing against the fabric of her underwear. 

“Use your words,” he orders, “What do you want?” 

“Make me feel good,” she twitches again, only to be held down, and yeah – she really could cum from just this, “Please, please, I want to feel good, I haven’t in so long.” 

Harry noses down to her folds, the tip of it dipping against the wet fabric, “Poor baby,” he murmurs softly, “Just need someone to take care of you, yeah?” 

“Just want you to take care of me,” she whines, “Just want – just want Daddy to.” 

Harry makes a noise between a moan and a growl before he buries his face against her pussy. It’s almost animalistic in the way that he doesn’t seem to care how much of his face gets wet. He breathes in deep and hangs his tongue out so that it’s stroking past her with every swipe up and down. Like he couldn’t even wait to get them off of her – like he needed this more than he could even put into words. 

Y/N spreads out her legs for him, knees pulled up on either side and split open. His fingers pressed into the bottom of her thigh like he needed something to grip onto, to maintain his handle on reality. That’s how she felt, holding onto his other hand that she’d noticed on her right side, just lying there, digging into the blankets. Maybe it was too sentimental and mushy for whatever they were, but Y/N slots her fingers between his anyway, and he held onto her like she was something sweet and precious to him. 

When he finally tugs her panties to the side, he must overestimate how much strength he would need for it because they rip in half. It wasn’t helped by the fact that they already had a tiny tear in the seam, but he widened it, stretched it out, and the show of strength was enough to get her moaning again. Harry doesn’t seem concerned by it, just immediately slips his tongue between her folds like there’d been a magnet drawing him there. He presses in firm and deep, the tip just barely fluttering against her hole that she can’t help but pucker a little for him. He drags it up, wet and full, against her clit, before he briefly sucks it into his mouth.

Y/N gasps, her legs jerk like they might try closing around his head, but he keeps her pressed open as he does it again. Starting low and dragging his tongue up, barely suckling her clit before going back down. He does it until she’s rocking her hips against his tongue, whining at him, “More –” she feels greedy, but she can’t help it, “More, please – suck on me more.” 

“Filthy little thing,” he says, his words vibrating against her pussy – he stays close, like he couldn’t bear the thought of pulling his lips any further away, “Want me to keep this tasty little button in my mouth, yeah? Suck on it until you cum?” 

Her other hand is digging into his scalp, tugging, “Yes,” her toes curl so tightly they pop, her clit throbbing like it heard that they were talking about it. He’s unrelenting on her slit, slurping up everything she drools and leaks for him, before he licks around her clit. This time, instead of the tiny little sucks, he treats it how he’d been treating her nipples. He takes her clit and just a few centimeters beneath it, into his mouth, suctioning against her, fluttering his tongue back and forth while she pulsed around nothing. It’s hard for her thighs not to tremble; it feels too good, better than anything she’s ever felt before. She could tell he was practiced and enjoying himself, not just doing it as an obligatory precursor to fucking her. 

Two fingers carefully prod at her hole, circling in her slick before sliding in slowly. Harry’s fingers are long and on the thicker side, so the stretch is felt, but it wasn’t horrible. She was wet enough and horny enough that her walls were coaxing and accommodating, like she’d been waiting for something to get inside of her this whole time. He pulls off her clit for a small breath before latching back on, and when she squeezes tightly around his two fingers, he moans a soft, “Mhm,” that makes her eyes flutter and roll back. Now that he doesn't have a hand on her thigh, Y/N tries to hold herself up and open for him, but she’s doing a bad job of it. Especially when his fingers curl and nudge at her G-spot. 

Once Harry finds it, he doesn’t let up. He only retracts for a moment to slip a third finger in as he strokes against her spongy bump, sucking on her clit in the way no man has ever done for her. Her eyes brim with tears – it’s too much, and it feels too good. Her orgasm feels like a lightning bolt zipping down from her brain to a hot coiling spring in her belly. He must be able to feel it, because he moans another hum against her like he’s encouraging her. But he doesn’t go any faster – he doesn’t change his pace at all, while Y/N’s eyes are squinted closed, her spine starts to curl inward, as she pushes her hips closer, shoving herself against his mouth. 

“Cumming, I’m cumming,” she whined, when it finally hits her, full body waves rolling through her as she jumps and twitches against him. At first, she’s quiet, her breath stolen from her, but when she finally sucks in air, the sound that leaves her is a little guttural and sort of embarrassing. She’s worried she’s going to get a cramp from how tight she has all of her muscles. 

When she finally comes down, she’s sensitive, pressing his head away, melting into the mattress. It opens her up further for his fingers, which spread out and stretch, opening her up even more. He places kisses on the tender insides of her thighs, nosing against the junction of where they meet her pussy. 

“How do you want me, baby?” He asks, “Do you want to be on top? Do you want me on top of you?” 

She thinks about it – thinks about what she wants right now, and right now, she sort of wants to be surrounded by him. Engulfed in him, and if he’s inside of her on top of that, that was even better. 

So she flips around onto her belly when he eases his fingers out of her (and pops them into his mouth – he was a real eater, for sure), “I want your – your bicep wrapped around me, kinda like a chokehold but not actually choking me. Just there, y’know, I’d – I’d like that.” 

Harry chuckles, sliding his hand down the center of her back toward her bum, spreading her open, “Yeah, Daddy can do that for you.” 

She whines when his thumb brushes past her other hole, tightly puckered, and she reaches back to bat at him, “Don’t – don’t look at my butthole,” she grumbles, and he laughs again. 

“Sorry, baby,” he positions her legs beneath a pillow, before leaning over to her bedside drawer and finding a condom, “S’just a cute little hole, I might need to play with it one day.” The head of his prick tap, tap, taps against her drippy slit. He paints it up and down, stroking the tip through the mess of spit and slick before he slowly starts to press forward. 

The stretch of his cock is more intense than his fingers, with less give, and a little girthier than 3 stacked on top of each other. She thinks this position, too, in particular, makes it feel more intense. She doesn’t even have a chance to be upset that she didn’t actually get to look at it before he slid it inside of her, because it’s so much. So big and thick, she thinks she can feel it in her throat when he finally bottoms out, his balls swollen and full, tucked against her pussy. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, stretching over the top of her. She feels his chest and belly press against her back, and his arm carefully loops up under her head, curling around her neck. It isn’t tight, but it’s reassuring, holding her close, and she can rest her cheek comfortably against his bicep. “That’s it, pretty girl. How do you feel?” 

Y/N has to urge every brain cell that controls her mouth to work, “Full,” she feels herself squeeze around him, and Harry’s hips jerk a little deeper, “So full.” 

“Yeah?” He pets her side before he brings his other arm around her body, across her shoulders, so she can fully rest against his arms. “You like feeling full.” 

She nods, eyes closing as she soaks it in, “Is it good for you?” She inquires, “Do I feel good for you?” 

“You feel perfect.” His cheek is pressed against the side of his head, so his words are right in her ear, “So perfect for me. Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” 

Harry’s careful as he starts. First, he grinds slowly and deeply, letting her walls get used to the stretch and size of him, before he rolls his hips out just a little, then sinks back in. Then he does a little more, and sinks back in, then even more – he does it again and again until just the tip is in before he fucks back into her. Each thrust is punctuated by the slap of their skin meeting, and Y/N gasping and whining with each movement. He’s all around her, just like she wanted. In her ear, around her torso, tucked inside of her. Every part of him crowds her, and she feels safe, and full, and good, so, so good. 

“Talk to me,” she demands, her hands curling around his arm, “Wanna hear your voice.” 

He giggles softly, “Yeah? You’re so soft, Sweetheart. Want me to tell you how badly I’ve been wanting this?” He keeps his pace, and even talking during it, it doesn’t even sound like he’s breaking a sweat, “How every night that I’m holding you, I just want to make you feel good? Have you cum on my fingers, my tongue, and my cock until you’re too worn out to wake up in the middle of the night, even for a second? My restless girl.” The way her pussy is stretching is probably obscene, if she could see it. All she can do is imagine how wide she’s spread for him, and how tightly her walls hug him. Y/N can feel it, how she sucks him back in every time he pulls out. 

“Want me to tell you that I’ve been thinking about you calling me Daddy? How, when you had that stupid little dare to ask me the size of my cock and couldn’t stop looking at my crotch, I wanted to flip you over the desk and show you just how big it was?” Y/N moans, her thighs trying to close, but with how he’s positioned, his knees keep her spread open, their legs locked together, “Yeah, baby, I’ve been wanting you since the moment you teared up when I asked if we were friends. Fuck, I needed to eat you right then and there.” 

With a whine, she tilts her face and bites into his bicep, “Don’t bring that up,” she fusses, “It was embarrassing.” 

“It was perfect,” he murmurs, “You’re fucking perfect. I almost can’t stand it. Need to feel you like this every day – need to feel this tight, wet pussy sucking me right in, soaking my cock. Need to be pressed close to you like this. So happy you’re okay,” he noses at the side of her head again, “So happy to have you in my arms like this.” 

The coil twists, warm, hot, and bright, “Harry,” she feels pathetic, how much she’s whimpering, how pitiful she sounds, “Again, m’g’na cum again.” 

“Cum for me,” he murmurs, “Love making you feel good, baby, cum all over my cock.” 

It’s more intense with him inside of her like this. More intense now that she can feel herself pulsing and squeezing, milking around his cock. Just like with his fingers, Harry keeps pace, the same ease, thrust and buck of his hips while he works her through it, curling tighter around her body to hold her still. It somehow manages to prolong her orgasm, she thinks. It feels like it lasts forever, trapezing through her body. 

Harry cums soon after, only speeding his hips when he knew she was completely finished. He grinds in deep when he finishes, and Y/N is bummed that she’s not feeling it inside of her, spilling all over, slipping out when he keeps going. Still, the elation and pure bliss she feels outweigh any negative emotion. Her brain feels buzzy and tingly in a good way – one she’s never experienced before, as her body completely melts into the mattress, and therefore, further into his arms. They stay like this for a little while, catching their breath, feeling the sweat of each other’s skin pressed together. 

When Harry eases up and carefully pulls out of her, he is only away from her body for as long as it takes to twist the condom and throw it away. Then he’s right back against her, “Did so well for me,” he murmurs, “Such a good girl, feeling so good for me. Do you want to cuddle some more, baby? Before I clean you up?” She nods, and Harry pulls her back in against his body, like he read her mind. Like he knows she wants him to completely swallow her up, wrapping his legs around hers, his arms around her, pressing her face into his neck. It wasn’t even too warm – it was perfect. So perfect, and she feels safe, secure, and satiated. 

His fingers play carefully at her nape, doing light, feathery touches that tickle a little in the best way. Y/N giggles, wrapping her arm around his body, letting her fingers feel each nob and bump of his spine. 

“Yeah?” He hums, “Are you feeling good?” 

Y/N nods, because she’s doing better than that even. All things considered. 

“I’m feeling great.” 

“Good,” he hums, “You’re all mine now.” 

                                                              .                           .                           .

Things settle out quite nicely, after all the drama of it is over. In the following week, the news is released to the public about Finley and Antonyia. Their mugshots are all over the news, and she gets a frantic call from Niall, who is crying about the fact that he almost set her up with a criminal. Harry gets to have some time off from his dangerous job, because that’s how it is after working for months on a bust like this – there’s vacation time in order, so he gets to relax a little, only working on his “normal” job. 

He stays over more nights than he doesn’t. It had been so long since he’d been to his flat before, he told her he had to go and make sure the place hadn’t been actually flooded with sewage water, since they put that into the universe. At least twice a week, he goes back home to make sure everything is in order, but he always comes back with new clothes to store here for when he spends the night. Y/N doesn’t mind it at all – she likes her alone time, sure, but she prefers to have it knowing someone else is in the flat with her. Then it’s not as scary or creepy. 

They aren’t like. . .officially anything yet. Y/N wants to ask him about it, but she doesn’t know how to without seeming clingy, even though he’s definitely the clingier of the two of them. But every version of her asking turns into him telling her they’re better off as friends who fuck sometimes, or him giving some half-baked excuse about his job being dangerous, or just anything that doesn’t end with them running off into the sunset. Niall and Aki tell her she’s being stupid, but that’s easy for them to say – they’re never the ones who need to confess first. They always have people falling at their feet practically, begging them to date before they’d even need to ask. 

But one day, Y/N comes out of work one day with her coworker Jacob, who makes her laugh and slap his arm before they part ways (he never comes down the stairwell, but he told her about how he’d gotten stuck on the elevator this morning, and how the firemen actually had to come and get him out, and it was the most humiliating experience of his life – but he’s a funny guy, so it all comes out very hilarious), she doesn’t think anything of it when Harry asks, “Who is that?” 

Y/N hums, because she’d been looking at the picture Niall sent her, and she lifted it higher for Harry to see, “It’s this guy Niall matched with on Hinge, we’re trying to find out if his profile is real or not. He’s Russian, apparently.” 

“No, not him – but tell me more about him later, I have some software we can use to see if he’s a fake or not,” Harry motioned toward the door, “That guy you walked out with.” 

“Oh! That’s Jacob! He’s one of the secretaries,” she answers, slipping her phone back in her purse, “He’s really funny.” 

“Not funnier than me, right?” 

“Well…..” 

“Hey!” Harry made an affronted sound, “You’re not supposed to think any man is funnier than your boyfriend, didn’t you know that?” 

Y/N paused. Her eyes widened when she turned to look at Harry, who did not appear like he’d said anything out of the ordinary. She blinked a couple of times, registering it, before repeating, “Boyfriend?” 

“Uh, yeah?” Harry replied, tilting his head, “I am your boyfriend. You’re supposed to think I’m the funniest guy in the world next to Niall.” 

“I – I mean, yes, you’re very funny, I just didn’t know – I mean. . .we’re dating?” 

A look of pure horror warps Harry’s face, “Oh my god,” he says quietly, then immediately turns into a different parking space, pushes the gear shift into park, and turns to face her, “Baby, what? Yes!” 

“Oh!” Y/N exclaimed, “Oh, I just didn’t know! You never asked so –” 

“Oh, wow, this is what it felt like the night I asked if we were friends, isn’t it? I think I’m going to cry,” he looks as shocked as Y/N feels, “We’ve – I mean, yeah, according to me, we’ve been dating.” Then, he looks a little worried, “I mean, are you not interested in –” 

“No! That isn’t it at all,” she denies, “I – no, Harry, I want to be dating you very badly, I just didn’t know we already were,” Y/N puffs out a disbelieving laugh, “I’ve been spending the last like three weeks trying to figure out how to tell you I liked you more than just friends.” 

Harry seems to relax, shoulders slumping a little as he melts back into his seat, “Well, great news for you, baby, that’s unnecessary. I don’t kiss my friends. If I did, I would’ve been laying them on you the moment your eyes watered that night.”

“I really need you to stop bringing that up.” 

He grins at her, leaning forward and pushes a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. 

“I guess, I could ask properly, instead of just assuming we were on the same page.” He slid his hand into hers, squeezing when the sides of their knuckles met, “It feels a little backwards, since we’re already coparenting a kitten, but Y/N – I like you a lot. I like you so much, in fact, that it makes me look so stupid sometimes. I want to be around you all of the time, and I want to sniff you, and cuddle you, and be weird about you. Would you maybe want to date me?”  

It’s hard not to break out into a matching smile. 

iii.

The heat was suffocating. 

Really, Y/N was being a little dramatic; she could admit that. It was still technically Spring, so it wasn’t even the hottest that it could be, but it was the warmest day of the year so far. The kind of heat that had her wondering if her tiny laundry day shorts were really that inappropriate for her office, or if she could make it work as long as she had granny panties for full coverage of her bum. If she showed up in a tank top and those itty-bitty shorts, she knew Niall and Aki would be supportive (probably wouldn’t even mention it, honestly, because at the end of the day, they are not going to fuss over what she was wearing and would actually try to start an HR case if someone else did), but their floor manager would definitely have an issue. 

Still, she wore her airiest dress that was still work appropriate, but there wasn’t even the whisper of a breeze in the air to keep her cool. It was the sort of stifling, still heat of a desert that she’s never been to. Where you could see heat waves in typically motionless air, and even the sight of them somehow made it feel that much warmer. Y/N so desperately wanted to crawl inside of this video she’d seen of the Japanese countryside this morning, in the cold stream of clear water running over rocks near a bridge. She could just plop right in there and dip her body back, then float her way anywhere that it ended up. It was almost like her homepage had been teasing her with what she couldn’t have before she stepped into the unforgiving heat outside. 

It could be much worse, though. If she had to do her usual commute, then she’d have had to walk like ten minutes in the heat to the subway. Underground was always just a little cooler, but with how many bodies were packed together in the station and then subsequently in the train, there was always more heat generated. Which was nice in winter, when the freezing temps would make her fingers stiff, but at this point of the year, it was not going to work for her. After a heated subway ride, they’d pile out of the subway car, and it would feel nice for all of 2 minutes once she was in the fresh air again, and then the sun would get quite hot again. A lot of this wouldn’t be as bad if she weren’t on her way to work, but everything is always exacerbated tenfold, since chances are she had been rushing around that morning trying to get ready. 

But, instead of having to go through that, she was getting the princess treatment and being carted to and fro, via Harry Styles Car Services. 

It’s not like she’d asked! Harry more or less demanded, actually, and Y/N wasn’t in the business of denying something that would benefit her in the end. Just as she hadn’t denied him when he told her that he should probably hang around her flat for a couple of weeks after what happened at the mall. If it kept her safe and less paranoid, why would she tell him no? Even though her flat wasn’t necessarily hostess material – she thinks that hardly mattered when Muffy was there. 

That first night, after her run-in with Finley, Harry had brought her home and stayed with her until she woke up from her post-adrenalin-rush nap. He offered to buy her dinner (which meant he’d already bought it), then proposed that he at least stay the night if it was okay with her, just to make sure nothing weird happened. Y/N had been relieved, because she had no idea how she was going to trick him into staying the night before he offered. That had removed any trickery needed, so she made a nice bed for him on her sofa and settled Muffy on his belly, with a bottle of water on the coffee table so that he could drink it. 

“I understand if you need to close or lock your door or anything.” Harry told her, “To feel safe, I get that.”  

“Oh, well, Muffy and I kind of have an open door policy,” she explained, “I don’t know if she’s willing to sacrifice that. Once the door shut when the air conditioner kicked on, and she cried at my door for 30 minutes.” 

“To be let in?” 

“To be let out,” Y/N stressed, “She hates a closed door. Anyway, as long as I don’t wake up to you staring at me from the side of my bed, Paranormal Activity style, then I’m okay.” 

Y/N slept better than she probably should have with Harry in her flat. She woke up once to pee, and when she dipped her head around the corner to peek at him, he was snoring on the couch, one leg kicked out of the blanket, and on the back of the cushion. Muffy was cuddled to his throat, which was a little traitor-esque, but she’d accept it for now. When she went back to bed, Y/N fell asleep in all of two minutes. 

She had suspected he would only stay that one night to make sure nothing sketchy happened, and then he’d go back to his flat. However, the following morning, during the breakfast that he’d woken up early to cook for her, he plated a waffle and eggs; he’d found her fruit that she had not bothered taking out of the package yet to wash, and he washed, prepped, and sliced it. It was the sort of breakfast that your boyfriend makes you after he cheated on you and has no intention of telling you, but his guilty conscience compels him to do something kind (not that she’s ever been in that situation or something). 

So, Y/N was slightly suspicious, narrowed eyes on him on her sofa where she’d balanced on the folded blanket he’d placed at the right end. “What’s with the 'I’m sorry I cheated on you' meal?” 

Harry’s head tilted, “I’m sorry I cheated on you?” He repeated, but then shook his head, “Well, no, there was no cheating involved. You’re the only person I’m in an unintentional mutual stalking dynamic with. This is more so, ‘Hear me out, even though it might be a little crazy’ meal.” Y/N had dipped a piece of waffle into the syrup, feeling it sticky and sweet on her lips when she slid it into her mouth, “I’ll be honest, I don’t like the Finley thing at all. He's suddenly showing up at a mall, full suit, just 'happening' to run into you, and recognizing you, then wanting to go out for coffee? Either he’s the world’s dumbest prick, or there’s some weird ulterior motive. And with how similar you look to Antonyia, I just feel like. . .they might be trying something. I don’t know – I need to do more digging, and I need Adam to look into it too, while I’m preoccupied with. . .well, with you.” 

“With me?” She repeated, the syrup sugary on her teeth. 

“Yeah, so – I propose that I sort of hang out with you for a while, a little closer than we have.” He motioned around them with his hand, “Like, if it is okay with you, I’d stay here with you. Maybe I’d go to the store and things with you, stuff like that – just for a bit, to make sure everything is status quo. They don’t know who I am, hopefully, but maybe if anyone is following, they might be deterred from approaching with me around.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrows, lulling her tongue around the syrup sticking to her mouth – she loves waffles, but it’s a sensory nightmare to eat, “I mean – do you have time for all of that?” 

She actually didn’t mind. Maybe she should, but she didn’t even really care that much when she thought Harry was legitimately following her around. At least he would be right at her side rather than somewhere in the shadows, making the back of her neck tingle. Plus, it would sort of be like having a bodyguard to some degree, right? That would make her feel. . .nice, actually. Harry was the one she called when she was scared anyway, so why not cut out the middle man and just have him with her?

“That’s okay,” she poked into a strawberry, “I probably would have bothered you calling every time I got scared.” 

Harry seemed surprised by how easily she’d agreed. Y/N was a little surprised with herself by how easily she agreed, but again, if the assassin for hire is paranoid, she’s going to be paranoid too. Also, she thinks, even if she said no, Harry would have still just followed her out of a sheer sense of guilty responsibility. He probably would have gone ahead and installed that camera outside her door, too. This made things easier for both of them, right? 

“Right,” he agreed, “Um, okay, yeah! You don’t mind if I sleep here?” 

“Nope,” she shook her head, “I think Muffy would like it too.” 

So, yeah, it was sort of easy to agree to it. That was just a couple of days ago, and so far, Harry had integrated himself into her flat with little fuss. He brought two computers and a suitcase of clothes. . .well, she thinks it’s clothes, but she didn’t want to dig through it to see what else he might have put in there. Harry had offered for her to thumb through the fabric, but she denied it. Typically, the offer was enough for her. 

There was no arrangement for him to take her to and from work. On Sunday, they didn’t do much of anything together. Y/N lived her life as she usually did on Sunday, stressed about the upcoming week, sad that the weekend was over, doing her laundry, and taking a nap. Harry offered to cook for her, but since he’d cooked breakfast, Y/N told him that she would cook dinner. Not that it was anything elaborate – just pasta, and she did nothing but heat up the noodles and warm up the sauce, but Harry acted as if she’d made the noodles from scratch. He praised her, ate seconds, then washed the dishes and dried them afterward. Now that Y/N thinks about it, they did not leave the house. 

In the mornings, Harry makes her breakfast before Y/N goes to work. The first day, she commuted like she normally did (they discussed it, that the general morning traffic between here and her job was deemed safe enough that someone couldn’t try anything too nefarious out in the open), but that evening, Harry just came to pick her up instead of her getting on the subway. “What use am I just milking your energy bill while you’re at work without doing anything to deserve it? At least let me drive you to and fro.” 

And she would hardly say that he’s doing nothing to deserve it, but Y/N wouldn’t say no to a free ride. Which ended up being super beneficial on a day as hot as this one, so his air conditioner is on the highest setting, almost cold enough that goosebumps were starting to pebble across her skin. It was good though, otherwise she would have caught aflame. To start off a date at work blistering hot and sweaty was just asking for her to be in an overstimulated, horrific mood the entire day. She should probably have Niall and Aki send him thank-you cards because she’d be in much better spirits than she would have been otherwise. 

He had rolled them through a coffee drive-through – a little shack that Y/N had always passed and thought looked sort of suspicious, but Harry swore by them. He bought her a drink and a little sweet pastry for her to eat later (she tried to hand him her card, and he took it between his index and middle fingers, slid it back into her purse, and then slid his wallet from his pocket to grab his card). Then he pointed all of the vents toward her, which made her laugh, holding the sweating cup in her palm, listening to the ice cubes click together. 

“Thank you,” she breathed out, “I can’t believe you left the air-conditioned flat to take me to work. You’re a better man than like. . .any of the people I’ve dated.” 

“Babe, every anecdote about your prior relationships is starting to break my heart. Where were you finding these men?” 

Y/N scrunched her nose, “Inside the tortured tiles of a frat house,” she told him, “Then the tormented wooden grains of the bar.” 

Harry groaned. He really did hate every dating story she’s ever told, no matter how mild Y/N thought the offense was. She had learned a little while ago that her taste in men was piss poor, and somehow all of the dickheads found her like lost ships spotting a lighthouse in the night. They just never left her alone, and Y/N must have a big, bright sign floating above her head that says something along the lines of ARE YOU A SHITTY GUY WHO LIKES TO LIE? THIS GIRL IS FOR YOU!!! 

But when she tells the stories, they’re more of a haha funny rather than a ‘this is a horrible thing that happened to me.’ However, when she tells Harry these stories, he legitimately seems horrified. No giggling or eye rolling and clowning the men of her past. Actually, he seemed set on reminding her that this behavior was unacceptable and that there was no reason she should have ever gone through any of these scenarios with any of these men. Y/N is on the fence about how she feels with it – she appreciated the sentiment, but unless he planned on fixing everything these men had ever done to her, she’s going to need him to giggle with her. 

They pull up to her job, and Harry always takes them into the parking garage, then drops her off at the door to the lobby on the first level. Y/N gathered her things up, heaving her purse up over her shoulder, and gave him a sullen look with a deep pout, “Well, I guess I’m off then,” she complained, because she hadn’t realized how hard it was to leave the house when someone else worked from home, even though he was chauffeuring her. The fact that he gets to go back to her flat and hang out with Muffy, sit on her couch, where he could probably take a nap if he wanted to – sort of drives her crazy. He gets cutesy-girl flat ambient lighting, and Y/N has to bake under the fluorescent light of an office for the next 8 to 9 hours. It’s totally unfair, “Enjoy my beautiful, comfy home.” That is, unless he has some mission or something. Y/N still very loosely understands what he does exactly.

“Poor baby,” he raised his hand, plucking her bottom lip, and it forced Y/N’s brain to shut down, then promptly reboot. Has he ever touched her like that before? The closest he’d gotten was when they were LARPing at the BDSM club, or whatever, and speaking of – she didn’t nearly get enough information about that as she thought necessary. Like, what, she’s just supposed to continue her day-to-day without knowing the exact ins and outs of what Harry was doing with someone else? She is so nosy, she has to know every nook and cranny of it; every nitty, gritty aspect of something that has nothing to do with her. But in the same breath, she also doesn’t want to know anything about it at all, because it sort of makes her feel sick with something like jealousy every time she imagines him with someone else. And that’s nothing, she is ready to confront just yet. 

“Do you want me to bring you something for lunch?” He asked, and he meant it; his hand slipped from her mouth to rest back in his lap, “I can bring Niall and Aki something too?” 

“You already packed me lunch, though?” Y/N’s gaze flitted to the lunchbox she had buckled to the strap of her purse, “It’d be rude not to eat it. And you sliced my kiwi so nicely.” 

Harry sighed, almost dreamily, “You’re the only one who appreciates my doting,” he told her, “Honestly, I haven’t been able to in a while, so it’s nice to take care of someone a bit. Send me pictures of you eating the kiwi.” 

“Okayyyy,” she finally popped the latch of the door, “Kiss Muffy’s head for me.” 

“Course I will.” 

It’s domestic, all of it. So weirdly domestic for such a weird situation, but it just works. 

Y/N knew that she should ask more questions. She knew it would be beneficial to have some idea of what was going on, but as nosy as she is about some things, for others, she just didn’t need to know. In a spiritual sense, she wanted to keep the peace in her life as much as she could, given the circumstances. If that meant only knowing vaguely that Finley is just some sketched-out pet food company CEO who does shady shit, then so be it. Because she knows herself, and she knew that if it was deeper than money, or more violent, it would keep her up at night, even with Harry sleeping so nearby. Then she’d just be stressed out about what Harry was getting up to when he wasn’t with her, and if he was safe. Not that the safety of an assassin should be her biggest concern, but it definitely ranks pretty high when said assassin has vowed to keep her safe. And when said assassin makes her stomach feel all flippy floppy, and her heart twists up in erratic, messy knots. 

So in her head, he’s just following some people around. He watches from afar and stays relatively safe, free of any bumps or bruises. Nothing she needed to worry about. 

He wished her a good day, and she could hear the car idle behind her until she waved her work ID in front of the badge reader. Only when she walked through the security entrance did she hear him actually drive away, as the gruff-looking man behind the desk signed her in. Niall is waiting for her inside by the elevators, and Y/N tilted the straw of her drink toward his mouth before he could whine or ask. 

“Yummy,” he sighed after a sip, “Did Daddy get you this?” 

“I need you to stop calling him that,” Y/N kept a lot of Harry and hers interactions a secret, once again considering the circumstances they were under, but if she said absolutely nothing about him, then Niall would have gotten suspicious. Harry’s her type, and he’s around a fair amount; not speaking about him screams an omission of guilt about something. Niall wouldn’t know what, but he would know to start probing her, and she can never keep a secret from him for long when he knows that she’s hiding something. 

Which is why she started telling him the truth about little, inconsequential things. Like, when it finally clicked in Niall’s head four days after they went clubbing that for Harry to send her to the right club, he would have had to be at the BDSM club to begin with. So she told him, not that Harry was actually there spying on some guy, but that he’d had a previous BDSM relationship and it was something he was interested in. She isn’t technically lying then, is she? She’s just not telling him the entire truth, but to be fair, he didn’t ask, ‘Was Harry spying on a friend of the guy that I set you up on the blind date with?’ he’d asked ‘Wait a minute, what the hell was Harry doing at a sex club?’ 

Of course, all truths come with the responsibility of dealing with Niall after the fact. He was as floored by this realization as Y/N had been, and demanded to know every single aspect of it. Y/N gave him her limited knowledge of the situation, to which he asked for more, and Y/N had to tell him she sadly only knew that scant amount. “And he barely told me that,” she explained, “I had to go through a lot to get that little bit.” 

So, Niall had no choice but to let his mind run wild, and in turn, run Y/N’s mind wild. Thus far, he’s decided that Harry likes being called Daddy, is into tickling, and probably leaves an ass bright red from spanking. He’d also deduced from his limited time spent with him that Harry is great at aftercare, that he can go for hours, and from his catching print efficiency, he’d determined that his dick was big. According to Niall, big enough to “change your life and make you believe in deities you’d never even heard of,” and. . .well, she could buy that. 

“How lucky are you that some hot rando from your psych lecture just stumbled upon you with a fat cock and dominant, caretaking tendencies?” He clicked his tongue, “The other day, this guy hit me up on Hinge and said for a blow job, he’d take me out for steak. I should be getting the steak for my beautiful eyes alone.” 

Aki appeared like an apparition, stepping into the elevator with them, “You need to find a Daddy like Harry.” 

“That’s what I’m saying.” 

“God, guys, shh!” Y/N whined, and she couldn’t necessarily say it was because he had proposed the idea of mic’ing her again so that if she needed him, she wouldn’t even have to bother calling. He would just listen all the time. But Y/N knew who her friends were and what they liked to talk about, so she asked if he’d let her think about it. Which, sure, she told him to hold off on it, but that didn’t mean he had to listen to her. For all she knew, he was hearing everything right now, which is precisely why she needed Aki and Niall to shut up, “You’re going to get another HR case against us.” 

Aki pouted, “See, and that one wasn’t even fair, because why were they eavesdropping on our very private conversation?” 

“Yeah, it’s like they’ve never seen someone demonstrate the mating press before.” 

Despite their grumbling, they both do settle into a different discussion. Aki tries a sip of Y/N’s drink next, and they all whine about how hectic the weeks following this particular album’s release have been. Usually, there’s a little bit of a lull right after release. Everything has been scheduled and ready, so all they needed to do was click some buttons, make a few calls, and let things fall as they do. Hell, they even had Aki making edits to popular shows and movies with singles in the background to generate more hype and encourage more sales. For whatever reason, it just seemed like the entire process was determined to be difficult. Interviews cancelled, radio shows claiming to have never gotten access, Spotify forgetting to send a ‘new album’ alert to monthly listeners. It was one thing after the next, so everyone at work was pretty on edge. 

The days were going by quickly, at least, and before she knew it, Harry would be messaging her an hour before she clocked out to let her know that he was there, but to take her time. He really was like the boyfriend that she had read about online, but never got to experience for herself. It was messing with her head a little, but she could admit that it was, which she thinks would benefit her in the long run. To be too delusional and think she didn’t have feelings would make a problem, and to be too delusional and create feelings on his end toward her would also be a problem. As long as she kept these feelings in check and recognized that Harry was doing all of this out of a sense of responsibility and guilt for accidentally tying her up in all of this. 

Y/N had begun to wonder recently what her part was in all of this. Was she really just some accidental acquisition? Or had this been something preplanned by people much richer than her, with much more money? Y/N did find it rather weird that the CEO of a company would need a blind date to be set up with someone, especially when he isn’t bad-looking. And yeah, it was a blind date, but was the date ever really that secretive? She knew what he did for work, so she’s certain he knew what she did, and unless he had a sudden interest in music talent marketing, she couldn’t imagine why he’d want to even pretend to give her a chance. Unless there was some ulterior motive. Unless there was someone involved in all of this that she allegedly looked a lot like. 

But what would they even use her for? As a stand-in? Had someone really tipped them off the night of the blind date that Harry would be waiting? Or had he ever even planned on showing up to begin with? Maybe he tipped off Harry’s team that he would be there with Antonyia or whoever, then didn’t show up, but see if she was mistaken for the woman? Maybe they would threaten her to pretend to be her, like in a spy movie or something. Y/N leading them on a goose chase through the city, jumping over fences and ducking behind buildings, only for them to catch up and realize that she’s just wearing a wig, and she’s actually someone with much less money and power. Then the real version is flying off on some private jet to the countryside of some remote country, where she’d carry on correspondence from the safety of a farmhouse. 

All of it is too much to even try to sort through. She’d like to ask Harry what was going on, his theories and thoughts, what he thinks about the situation that she’s in. . .that they’re in. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Harry is normally so happy and open, but she suspected that this would be the one thing he’s sort of cagey about. And Y/N just cannot bear the thought of making it awkward for even a moment in time, especially when Harry is staying at her flat. If she asks and he, for once, refuses to answer, well, that will just keep her awake for days. Maybe she could ask when he was drunk? Or maybe, one day, he’ll give her an opportunity accidentally, where it would make sense for the conversation to head that direction. 

Y/N sighed, digging the pad of her thumb into her temple, “What’s wrong?” Aki asked, already reaching into her purse, “Do you have a headache? Need a pain killer?” 

“No,” she shook her head, “Just wondering why it feels stifling in here. Don’t they have industrialized air conditioners?” Y/N already reached behind her computer monitor to reveal her pink, portable fan that was a little loud, but always cooled her off instantly. 

“They probably have it rigged so it only pipes cold air to the top of the chain,” Niall added unhelpfully, dangling off the side of their cubicle while Y/N and Aki get settled inside of it. Stringing their purses on the hook, clicking on their computers, and rearranging things in a manner that suited Y/N’s brain more. “We’ll feel like this all day, most likely.”

Y/N did for a moment think about whether she was at home. How Harry would probably offer to routinely switch out cold washcloths on her head or the back of her neck and have all the fans pointed at her. He’d be enforcing her water intake for sure, but she knew he would be the one bringing it to her, even if he was in the middle of working. Harry just liked to do things like that – it was how he showed his care; pampering people with the devotion of a servant with his royal member of the castle. 

Maybe it was an act. Maybe it wouldn’t last long, and this was all a ploy to trick her into thinking that he was a good guy (though she believed that was highly unlikely). Y/N doesn’t know; she just knew that she was going to enjoy it for as long as she could. 

                                                                       .                      .                   .

“Do you want to get your nails done?” 

Y/N looked at her bare nail beds – she couldn’t even remember the last time they had something on them. She used to be pretty good at that, keeping up with them. She’d get just gel sometimes, she’d get acrylics the other, but the price got too high, and she had become far too impatient to sit there for an hour while they did it. No matter how much she liked the results or how pretty and girly they made her feel, at the end of the day, Y/N is lazy and spends too much money on a Gacha game to justify the cost.  

But she’d been complaining about how bitten up her nails looked, and how long it’d been since she’d gotten a pedicure. These were conversations that Harry had to get used to while he stayed with her, because some days, even after spending all day with each other, Niall or Aki (or both) would end up on the phone with her for most of the evening too. And usually they’re doing all the whining and complaining that they couldn’t do throughout the day, at risk of creating a “negative work space,” so they do it at home instead. 

Y/N offered to get up to leave the room, but Harry assured her it was okay, that she could live as normal without having to worry about him changing her typical routine. And somehow, someway, he’d figured out how she didn’t like getting into her bed with outside clothes on, so before she showers, she usually rots for a little while on the couch. She’ll eat, scroll on her phone, decompress from work, and then finally take her shower, brush her teeth, wash her face, and get ready for bed. 

So she’s on the floor while Harry is on the couch – he’d spent all day out too, and had some minor bruises on his knuckles that she’d caught sight of. Y/N had been trying to figure out how to ask about them, but kept choking over the words and bringing something else up instead. She did that about three times before her phone started ringing, and it was Niall and Aki. 

They had spoken about a lot of things, just this and that, new tops, Aki bottoming for the first time in like three years, a game that she and Aki had been playing that they’re slowly convincing Niall to start with, Niall’s newest movie hyperfixation, this album they’re excited about, this one edit song that’s made them want to live in 2000s cyberpunk architecture. Aki was showing off her new set of nails, and Y/N gushed over them, how long she gets them, and how cool they were – a deep purple-y red that had jewels glued to the tips. Aki said she’d give her the number to the salon she goes to. 

“Ah, I wish, but I can’t defend the cost, y’know, with all the other random shit I buy,” she sighed, “It has to be budgeted into your life because your nails are at least 20% of what makes you, you.” 

“True, true.” 

“But I think about it sometimes,” she continued, plucking at the hangnail on her pinky, “They’d probably gasp if they saw the state of them now. Hey, Ni, did you –” 

To be honest, an hour later, by the end of the conversation, Y/N hadn’t even remembered what they’d talked about. She had just been relieved that neither of them had brought up ‘Daddy’ referring to Harry, and Y/N having to explain herself out of that. When she twisted around so she lay on her side on the floor instead of on her belly, Muffy had been mid-zoomie and slid, then slammed on the hardwood right into Y/N’s body. She laughed, plucking her up by the belly and mocking her big meow to pull her close to her chest. 

That’s when Harry asked her if she wanted her nails done. Now she’s wondering if he noticed how eaten up her fingers looked, and he’s about to start encouraging her to drop the money on them. She’s deciding if she should feel offended or not, pouting, “Yikes, do they really look that bad?” She tilted her head to look at him, where his legs are tucked in a criss-cross, his laptop balancing on top of them. His bruised knuckles are in full view when he scratches above his ear, and she wonders if they ached at all, “I mean, I’d like to, but I –” 

“No, no, I know, you said you can’t justify the cost, but I can,” he smiled softly, “Just pick a day, and I can pull out some money.” 

Y/N’s eyebrows raised, “Oh?” She shook her head, mouth falling open, “Oh, Harry, that’s so sweet, but really, you don’t have to do that! I’m just whining, is all.” 

“I insist,” he told her, “I want you to – if that’s something you want to do. See it as me showing my gratitude for letting me stay here.” 

“Your gratitude? Harry! I’m not sure you realize it, but you’re staying here to protect me, yeah?” 

Harry pouted, “For my peace of mind. It’s not entirely selfless, so I think that helping you get your nails done is in order. Now, either you’ll take the money in cash, or I’ll transfer it into your account, you can pick.” 

Y/N scoffed, “Harry, I –” 

“I won’t ask it again,” he clicked his tongue, “Choose or I’ll choose for you.” 

There’s a curl of something tight in her belly, warm and hot, and it sort of makes her feel like she’s sweating a little. Her heart skips a beat, and she imagines this in a little different context, but immediately almost shakes her head like a dog to throw it out through her ear. She huffed a little breath, opening her mouth to tell him that she won’t accept it in any form, but her phone vibrates on the floor. When she looked at the screen, it was a notification from her bank, 150 quid transferred into her account. 

She gasped, shoving herself up from the floor, “Harry! That amount is –” 

“Not enough? I can send some more.” 

“Too much! Oh my god,” she grabbed her phone, swiping it open, “How did you even –” 

“It’s easy when I have your account numbers,” he told her, then shut the lid of his computer. “You should never allow a man in your house without him spending money on you.” 

She was frowning, “But I have been letting you. You buy me coffee almost every day before work, you’ve sent me lunch, and you’ve been paying for groceries for the last like week and a half, Harry. Not to mention all the money you’ve spent on gas getting me to and from work.” Y/N looked around for something to throw at him, but came up short, unless she wants to chuck her phone across the room, but she’s trying to make a point, not bruise him. 

“And that’s bare minimum necessities. Let me spoil you with something fun.” 

“But –” 

“Y/N,” his voice is serious, stern, her heart feels like it’s thundering in her chest now, “It’s a done deal, Sweetheart. I’m excited to see what nails you get.” 

Y/N sighed a little, pressing the pads of her fingers into her floor and watching them blanch. She’d learned very early on that Harry is hard to deter once he has his mind set on something, especially if it has to do with making her life better. Which is nice, really, she doesn’t think anyone apart from Niall and Aki has had her best interest in mind to this extent. Y/N really could not see any ulterior motive for this with him. He merely wants her to get her nails done on his dime, for whatever reason. 

“Well, I’ll. . .I’ll have to get a pedicure too. You sent me too much for just one.” 

Harry grinned widely and brightly, showing each dimple. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her, and Y/N’s belly curled hot and tight in a way that is getting very difficult to ignore now. Did he have any idea how he sounded when he said things like that? Did he know how it made her feel? Y/N felt like he was teasing her right now. “Just let me know the day, and I’ll take you.” 

That night in bed, after her shower and her skincare, she rolled around helplessly. She hadn’t really been ready for bed yet, but she thought if she spent any more time with Harry in the living room, he’d start trying to buy her a car, so she fled. The reprieve is nice, and just for a moment, there’s a little relief from the intense twisting and fluttering in her chest. But knowing he’s just right down the hall doesn’t do anything to settle her either. 

Especially with her and Muffy’s open-door policy, and an overactive (as well as horny) imagination that Y/N has, she just kept imagining him slipping inside. Telling her that he needed to sleep in the same bed with her to keep her extra safe, before wrapping his arms around her body and sneaking his hands into her undies. Or something – she doesn’t know. Maybe she’d have a filthy dream, and he’d hear her, come to her room to make sure she was okay, and find her writhing and rocking her hips into the bundled up blankets on her bed that she stuffs between her legs for hip alignment. Then he’d get hard and have to go back to the couch and touch himself to her breathy, needy sounds or something. 

Wow, like, typically, she isn’t this worked up over next to nothing, but she can’t help it. She can’t explain herself either. The air conditioner is working overtime, and the ceiling fan is whipping soundly above her head, creating a mindless hum that she is trying to let lull her to sleep. Goosebumps dot along her arms from where they are outside of the covers, so she stuffed them back beneath them, mindful of the sleeping kitty stretched long ways at her left side. Muffy typically started half of the night with one of them, got up to pee, then ended the night with the other one, like true shared custody. She was thankful to have her warm little body to fall asleep with, but would miss waking up to her purring the following morning. 

It’d be easier if Harry just slept in her room with her. . .but that wasn’t a good idea. Y/N wouldn’t even suggest it because she knew he’d say no – he probably wanted to sleep in the living room so he’d be closer to the front door than she was. And she had a suspicion that her safety would nullify any feelings that she had, like wanting the cat to be with her all night without shutting the door. 

So she’d have to deal with it for now. It’s for the best anyway – she’d definitely do something embarrassing if she had unremitted nightly access to Harry in her room. And when would she have time to tilt her face into her pillow and squeal quietly? Harry would ask what she was doing right away, because he’s as nosy as she is, and wouldn’t let it slide. 

Y/N plucked her phone up from the nightstand, where she had laid it to charge and hopefully to sleep, but went on Pinterest instead. If someone is paying for her nails, she'd better make it count. 

                                                                         .                 .                . 

The day starts with her nail appointment. 

Well, technically, it doesn’t start like that. It starts with her being at work, but they had a half-day scheduled for them to work on the pipes or something (she didn’t know, and she didn’t care, because a half-day was a half-day no matter what the circumstances were), where she revealed to Niall and Aki that Harry was taking her to get her nails done. She’d mentioned it offhandedly, not even thinking about the reaction she was bound to get when she told them, but she regretted it almost instantly when their twin gasps just about echoed off the cubicle. 

Niall, who once again was nowhere near his desk, is sitting on a mini roller chair with his iPad in his lap (he gets his work done well enough that nobody can really complain at him for never sitting where he’s supposed to), grips her arm tightly, “Oh my god,” he squeezed, “From start to finish, how did this happen?”

Y/N laughed a little, realizing her mistake only then, “Ahh, well, it wasn’t anything crazy. I just said I hadn’t gotten my nails done in a while, and so he offered to pay. He wouldn’t necessarily take no as an answer, though.” 

“So he’s Sugar Daddy now, instead of just Daddy,” Aki spun back around, holding her chin in her hand. “Wow, I already liked him, but now I really like him. When are you locking him down? Men like that don’t stay single for long.” 

Her face felt hot, “It’s not like that,” she told them, “He’s just being nice.” 

“Men are never this nice unless they want to get their hands in your pants at least a little bit,” Aki replied immediately, “Or maybe he wants to see your nice manicured nails on his. . .you know. I’d say it, but we have snitches around here that like to start HR cases,” she glared over the top of their cubicle at their coworker pair beside them (Aki refers to them as their evil, prude counterparts, but their names are just Stanley and Holly; they’re both early 40s and Holly definitely reads smut, so they were all a little surprised she didn’t like sex convo), “You ought to ask him if that’s what he wants.” 

Even Niall gasped, scandalized, “She can’t just ask, Aki, that’s way too bold!” He turned to look at Y/N again, “I’ll ask for you. Is he coming to pick you up today?” 

“I’m not asking, and you’re definitely not asking,” Y/N denied him, “It really isn’t like that, guys, he just owes me one for –” For mistaking me for someone one time? For holding me at knifepoint when he thought I was some bad person, involved with some bad thing? For accidentally getting me entangled in something beyond a measly little music marketing office worker? For going through my messages and internet history and tracking my location for weeks? For sleeping on my sofa to keep me safe, even though he drives me to work and cooks for me? “For helping him embroider this present for his Nan,” she lied through her teeth, wiggling her fingers, “It took a lot of time, and I broke my nails messing with the embroidery hoop, so he felt bad. He thought that I should have them pampered or something.” 

“Still,” Niall grabbed Aki's hand, mindlessly plucking at her acrylics, “To pay for your nails is so boyfriend. So,” he lowered his voice, just above a whisper, “Sugar Daddy Dom – if you will. I think you have a chance if you just let him know the feelings are reciprocal.” 

Y/N shook her head, “You two are as delusional as I am, so I really can’t trust your take on this.” 

Aki peeked her head up over their cubicle wall and looked around before catching the attention of Levi, one of their coworkers. She all but calls him over like a dog, with a click of her tongue and a call of his name, and he trotted over like a dog, too. He had a big crush on Aki, she thinks, and he also may have had something for Niall at some point (or still does). Honestly, Y/N always got the feeling that Levi wanted to bury her under a rock and take her spot as their friend, so it makes sense that he barely looks at her when he dangled over the wall. 

“Would you pay for someone’s nails if you didn’t have a crush on them?” 

Levi tilted his head, “Uh, no?” 

“Perfect, thank you,” Aki grinned, then waved him off, “Talk to you later.” 

“Seeeeee,” Niall’s hand was still on her thigh, squeezing, “An undeluded source.” 

“Ugh, I don’t know,” she covered her face with her hands, hid in her palms, and groaned, “He’s just really nice, guys, I don’t want to make anything weird.” 

Niall rolled closer, slotted their legs together, “You won’t,” he promised, “Just say you want to kiss and see where it goes!” 

It sucked not being able to tell them the whole truth. Had they known, then they would have realized why Harry was being as nice as he was to her. Even if they were technically friends now, and shared the same interests, and spent so much time together, Y/N knew that it was mostly tied to a sense of guilt and responsibility. Plus, Y/N has always believed that the more time you spend with someone, the more likely you are to feel attracted to them, and perhaps develop a teeny crush on them. Even if he did find her attractive right now, once the need to be around her disappeared, any sort of desire he might feel for her might disappear too. Like all of the guys and girls in UNI lectures that she’d convinced herself she was in love with, only to forget about them as soon as she passed her exam and walked out the door. 

Yeah, the context was a bit different, but humans are all the same when you really think about it. 

Still, she tried not to think about it when Harry picked her up because it would put her in a sad mood, and this was not a sad-mood kind of day. This was a good day, a fun day, because the sun was out, but it wasn’t blisteringly warm, and Y/N was about to get her nails done for the first time in a year. When Harry pulled up to get her, he had a milk tea waiting in the car for her (and a Lactaid so it didn’t mess with her stomach too badly), and he had the album she’d been listening to on. 

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he all but sang when she crawled into the car, “Have you decided what design you want?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” she told him, “But I’m still unsure whether or not I should get acrylics.” 

“My vote is yes,” he replied without a beat, “Then you can tap on things ASMR style, I like listening to that.” 

At first, when they pulled up to Aki’s regular place, Y/N imagined Harry just dropping her off and coming to get her afterward, but instead, he parked the car and unbuckled. 

Y/N’s brows raised, “Oh, you’re coming in?” 

“Duhhh,” he pocketed his keys and hopped out of the car, “I love watching nails get done. You don’t mind, do you?” 

“No! No, not at all, just – I guess I just wasn’t expecting it,” she waited patiently in her seat, because Harry fussed at her when she didn’t let him open the car door. He looped around the front, tucking his sunglasses up into his hair like a headband to keep his flyaways out of his face. He always dressed like he had a lot of money, Y/N noticed, even his comfy clothes at home were cashmeres and silks. Today, he wore an olive green knitted tank top that made his shoulders look massive, and nice white trousers. She wondered what he’d gotten into today, while she was at work for the brief period of time she was. And felt severely underdressed in her own work clothes, because office-appropriate meant rocking summer camp jorts, and that’s just how life has to be. 

Y/N signed in for her appointment, and they got her back right away, since it’s the middle of the day during a work week. There aren’t that many people there, which is a relief. Another big reason she hadn’t been going was that she could only go on the weekend, and there were always about 3000 people who were also there, so it was crowded, took forever, and her whole Saturday was practically gone by the time she was free. This is much better. And they let Harry shack up in the spot beside her, and – like always – Harry did very well in assimilating himself in the space. It was a Vietnamese-owned salon, and apparently, Harry had spent half a year in Vietnam for his father’s work. 

This was news to her, so Y/N is as engaged as her nail technician, asking him questions and poking his brain. It’s things like this that make Y/N realize she doesn’t know Harry all that well. Y/N is so intrigued, looking at the photos, listening to him share stories, hearing similar childhood stories from her technician, and Y/N didn’t even notice when they were done with her pedicure. She had collagen socks on, ice cold on her feet that were now lacquered in a pretty, sparkly Boysonberry color. 

“Yeah, it was pretty cool.” He told her, “We moved around a lot when I was younger, but that was one of my favorite places to live! I wish we could have stayed longer.” 

Y/N stretched her toes when the socks were pulled off, “Have you gone back since?” 

“Yeah,” he grinned, nodding, “A couple of years ago! I stayed for a month after a pretty bad breakup. I was just hopping from country to country for a while. I said it was to 'rediscover myself, ' but really I just didn’t want to face my friends and family afterward.” 

The nail tech, Tracy, asked the question Y/N probably would have been scared out of, “Why was it so bad?” It was the sort of question that only older women could get away with asking (or maybe Niall). Y/N wanted to know desperately, though, so she didn’t say anything to stop him from sharing. She just stared at him with big eyes, waiting for him to tell them. 

Harry’s face gets a little rosy. “Ahhh,” he started, awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck while she slid the foam flip-flops onto her feet for her to waddle over to the manicure chair, “Well, that’s the thing – we were going to be engaged.” 

Y/N gasped – she couldn’t help herself – and Tracy gave her a look that said Girl, do not ruin this, he’s about to divulge secrets, be chill. So after the gasp, Y/N attempted to stay chill, once again quietly listening, which was – in itself – a prompt to continue again. Harry is a very open person, about all things (besides the obvious), and Y/N thinks it’s one of the reasons people begin to favor him so quickly. It feels like you know him before you ever truly do, because he answers openly and honestly, no matter the question being thrown at him. 

That being said, this is the first time that Y/N has ever witnessed him seem hesitant to share a story. She wondered if it still hurt him, or if he was embarrassed by what happened. Oh god, had he cheated? Was he a bad guy? Finding out like this would totally blow. Morally, Y/N could not be developing a crush on a cheater. 

“I mean, it’s sort of a long story, but like a Cliff Notes version? Basically, I had bought the ring, told everyone I was going to propose, and went on vacation with our families to Fiji, hired a photographer. . .all of the things. I’m pretty sure someone had already ruined the surprise and told her my plan with everything,” he motioned his hand around in the air. “She’d been crazy giddy for the entire trip. More giddy than normal, and I had even caught her looking at wedding dressers over her shoulder one evening. But when it came time to drop on one knee I. . .y’know. I just couldn’t do it,” Y/N held in another gasp, but her eyes went wide. Harry scrunched his face a little, a small, pitying smile, and a shrug of his shoulders, “It just felt like I couldn’t be my true self with her, y’know? Not to be crass, but like. . .I couldn’t burp, toot, have morning breath, or be in a bad mood. And I wasn’t necessarily honest about some aspects of my job, you know. . .I used to have to travel a lot for it, but she wouldn’t have been able to come along—things like that. So I didn’t get on one knee, and like – I actually broke up with her right then, which if I could go back, I would do that differently. She smacked me, ran off, and then. . .well, yeah, so did I. I booked a flight home and moved out all my things, then booked another flight to Vietnam.” 

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She could barely wrap her head around it, so he broke up with her because he couldn’t be himself? Or he called it off because he hadn’t been honest about the whole hitman thing? Was it both? Or was he just really not ready to commit yet? 

“Wow, that’s. . .” Y/N nodded, “That’s heavy.” 

“Yeahhhhh, but you know, it was for the best. She’s much happier now, with a bloke who took her to Maui and proposed to her by the seaside. We’ve since reconciled, as much as we could have, all things considered. I deserved her tearing into me, and she really tore me a new one, and then a new one, inside of the new one. But yeah, there’s my story.” 

Tracy clicked her tongue. “Crazy,” is what she offered, nodding her head toward Y/N, “What about you? Any stories?” 

Y/N startled, “Oh, um – I’m not sure, all of my exes kind of sucked.” But you don’t really have to pay her to go on a tirade about a couple of them, namely her last serious-ish relationship. It was around the time Harry was fleeing Fiji, Y/N was getting cheated on by a situationship turned boyfriend because he’d gotten jealous she was talking to other guys. At least, she’d thought that he was her boyfriend, but she soon learned that he actually wanted to siphon his emotional needs off her while barely putting in any effort on his end, and continuing what their “original arrangement” was. Only this time, he gets to fuck whoever he wants, and Y/N is left in the dark, thinking nothing of it.  

She hated him for it, and unlike Harry, there was no reconciliation that they faced together down the line. Y/N actually had decided that if she ran into him in public, she would have no choice but to swing at him on sight. 

Harry seemed horrified by her story, “What a dickhead,” he tapped Y/N’s phone screen for Tracy so that the image of her nail design wouldn’t disappear, “If we ever run into him in public, let me know, and I’ll swing on him.” 

It makes Y/N laugh. They move on from exes and start talking about a new movie that’s supposed to come out, and sort of make plans on seeing it together. By the end of it, Y/N has a nice, pretty set of acrylics that look like jelly and a big smile on her face while she clicks them against the table. Harry praised Tracy’s work, complimenting something about her technique, and then slid her a tip (at the front desk, it said they preferred cash). Y/N hadn’t seen how much it was, but she knew it was enough to make Tracy grin widely and thank them profusely, so that was nice. 

She walked them to the front, but when Y/N reached into her purse to grab her card, Harry all but hip checks her out of the way with his card already pulled out and shoved in the reader. 

“Wha–hey! Harry, I –” 

“Hm? What?” Harry looked around, then to Tracy, “Do you hear something?”  

Y/N scoffed, “Harry, I have the money!” 

“You can’t tell me a story about your shitty ex and expect me to let you swipe your card,” he typed his code into the PIN pad and removed the card when the reader started alarming at him, “Use that money for something else.” 

Y/N huffed again, but ultimately, it was too late. She didn’t know Harry’s information to send him the money back, so it was going to sit in her account until she used it. Maybe she could use it on him or something? Would she be able to beat him in ordering them dinner? Or buying them drinks? 

It just feels wrong, like she takes, and takes, and takes from him. Even if he’s okay with that, there’s still a guilty welt that sits in her chest that she won’t be able to shake unless he lets her do something for him. She’s unused to this unremitted selflessness, even if it’s because he’s feeling guilty. Nobody had ever tried to take care of her to this extent before, so she’s unsure what to do with it. 

Harry looped his arm around her shoulder and guided her out of the salon, humming, “C’mon, let’s look at them in the light.” 

They are very pretty, inside under the regular lighting, but even more so when they glitter in the sun. Harry gushed at them, even slotted their fingers together so that he could flip her hand over and move them how he wanted to let the light catch them. His hands are a little rough, still slightly bruised around his knuckles, and parts of his hands are calloused. “How does it feel, hm? Do they hurt?” 

“No, not – not too badly,” she kept hold of his hand – did hers feel soft to him? Y/N felt sort of dainty with him holding her, which is a way she has never felt before, really. Even when she wears dainty jewelry or dainty shoes, she’s always felt more like a bull surrounded by blown glass rather than a gazelle carefully maneuvering through a room of ceramic. But Harry, all broad, roughed, bruised hands, and she thinks if she sat between his legs, he could crush her between them – he makes her feel all soft and cute. “They’re pretty?” 

“They’re gorgeous,” he squeezed her hand, kept a hold of it as he led her back to the car, “But it’s hard for anything not to look gorgeous on you.”

Y/N rumpled her lips, “Okay, okay, wrap it up,” she wiggled his hand off, listening to him giggle when he popped open the door, “Sweet talker.” 

“This sweet talker is starving, baby,” he murmured, “Do you want to get something to eat?” 

They end up staying out all day. It was around 2 PM when they got out of the nail salon, so they went for a late lunch. Harry chose a Mediterranean place that he said she had to try, and Y/N trusted him, so she went along with it. Y/N was starving, so she’s happy that it isn’t technically a sit-down with a waiter kind of place, and more of an order at the counter and they’ll bring the food to you kind of place. Harry ordered first so that she knew what to do, but she had her card in a tight grip and used all of her force to slam Harry out of the way to Tap-to-Pay. Does he barely budge? Yes, but he’s startled enough by it happening that Y/N is able to pay. 

The man at the cashier let out a startled laugh, along with Harry, who soon complained with a big whine, “Heyyy –” 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Y/N cut him off quickly. It was nowhere near the price of her nails, but it was something at least, and it made her feel better. 

The food is good, and Harry told her about this new craft store that opened up about twenty minutes away, so after they eat (she does try some of Harry’s food out of his basket, but not without asking – and a sip of his drink, which is very Niall/Aki/Y/N behavior, but Harry seemed okay with it), they head there. It’s new enough that it’s pretty crowded, so she sticks to Harry’s side like he’d glued her there, and he is happy with that. He actually told her a couple of times not to stray too far from him. 

Then, after the craft store, they piddle around at different shops in the area. They get ice cream and decide to walk through a park nearby, and Y/N is thinking about how good of a day she’s been having. Spending time with Harry is always quite fun, but she could admit that being spoiled was pretty fun too. She liked how he kept close to her, a hand on her shoulder or at her waist, maybe even her lower back as he guided her around. The sun was starting to get lower in the sky, so she knew they would go home soon, but there was joy in knowing that they could still spend time together. Not at any point in his stay with her had she been annoyed or wanted to not see him, which was nice. But it also meant she was going to be really sad when he finally did have to leave. The flat was going to seem very empty. . .Muffy would probably be pretty upset, too. 

Everything is good and normal until it isn’t. 

There’s a shift in Harry from one moment to the next. They’d been walking around the newly planted flowerbeds, idly talking about the glow bugs that would pretty soon start lighting up the open fields closer to late Spring. Y/N had been reminiscing about catching them in her hands and letting them crawl around over the creases of her palms and the dips of her fingers, when Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket. The first one he ignores, but the second and third happen in rapid succession. When he slid it from his jeans, he read over the messages, and it suddenly wasn’t a lighthearted, fun little walk anymore. 

Harry quietly took hold of her wrist with his free hand, “Come on, baby.” Her eyes widened at the pet name, startled by the sudden use of it, “Let’s go back to the car.” 

“Oh? Yeah, okay,” she agreed, her eyes started to dart around – what had he seen? With a lowered voice, she asked, “Is. . .is everything okay?” 

He’s silent for a moment, apart from a soft hum that was neither a reassurance nor a denial. The grip on his wrist is firm – it isn’t too tight, but it’s still the sort of grip that lets her know it was pretty serious. Y/N’s heart is starting to thud against her sternum, a prickle along the back of her neck, and the sort of empty, “losing feeling” thing her thighs do when she starts to feel scared. There is this sort of fight or flight tingle that starts to knock around her cells, but Harry had already chosen flight for them. 

The car is nearby at least, and Harry opened her door, then buckled her in, which was also new, “I’m going to need you to stay in the car, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

Y/N’s eyes go wider, “Wait, what? Don’t – no, don’t leave me alone!” 

“I have to, Sweet Girl, but it will only be a minute.” He shut her door, then wrapped around the car, went to the front seat, and clicked open the bottom half of the seat as he had told her it did. Y/N’s eyes widen when she sees what’s there – most of it is covered and in cases, but he pulled a gun out, and a shocked sound escaped her throat, “Ah, fuck, I was hoping I could at least show you how to hold a gun if you needed to, but –” 

“What? Harry, what the fuck!” 

“I know, I don’t have time to explain, okay. I’m leaving the keys with you. Don’t unlock this door for anyone but me, okay?” 

Y/N hated how whiny her voice sounded when she spoke again, but she couldn’t help it, she was freaked the fuck out! “Harry, I’m scared, I –” 

“I know, I’ll explain everything when I come back, okay? I’m so sorry, I really – I have to go, I’ll be only a second.” 

He clicked a button on his door, shut the door, and then jogged off back into the park. Harry followed the pavement to a trail that led into the wooded area before disappearing from her sight entirely. Y/N doesn’t like this; she really, really doesn’t, and she hates how hopeless she feels just sitting here. Y/N checked her phone, but she isn’t sure what for. Her heart is racing, and she’s looking around. As soon as the car door had been closed, the silence in the car was deafening; he hadn’t even turned it on. She can hear her blood roaring in her ears, her lip threatening to tremble – this is fucked up! What had he seen? Or, what had been sent to him? Why did he rush her off like that? Y/N hadn’t noticed anything sketchy – fuck, they were the only ones in the park! What could have happened? Was someone following them? 

Y/N does wait. She waited, and she waited, and she waited, until her stomach felt sick, and she couldn’t wait anymore. It was stupid to get out of the car, she knew that, but she at least reached over and lifted Harry’s seat. Her hands were trembling as she reached toward the bags, carefully peeling them open and reaching in. She finds a taser, which she has a very loose understanding of how to use, but she knows better a taser than a gun, and wielding a knife just doesn’t seem smart.  

She needed to stay in the car. Y/N needed to be smart, wait patiently, as she’s meant to, because if Harry’s okay in there, he’s going to be so pissed at her for coming out to find him. But that’s only if he’s okay. If he isn’t okay, then he might be happy that she came to see what was taking him so long. She’d just never been good at being a sitting duck; if he wanted her to stay put, then he probably should have tied her up or knocked her out, she doesn’t know. There was just no way she was going to sit and wait in the car any longer. 

The park is eerie now, under these circumstances. Before it smelled like spring, the air was nice, and Y/N was just thinking about how beautiful the world is. Now it feels like she’d been plucked out of whatever romantic comedy film she’d been in, and into the horror movie this was turning out to be. She’d always had light footsteps, which had never benefited her (unless she was sneaking to the kitchen late at night for sweets when she was younger, but this is her adult life) until right now. She swallowed thickly and walked briskly until she disappeared behind the tree line and strained her ears to hear something. 

There were low, murmuring voices coming from the left, she thinks. Y/N was no Eagle Scout, but she could tell where sound was coming from, and there was still just enough light from the setting sun to make out where she was going. The further she went in, the louder the voices were, and when she picked up on Harry’s, there was a tiny little part of her that settled. His voice sounded clear, not like he’d been getting his ass beat or anything, and really, that should have probably calmed her down enough to go back to the car. 

But she pushed forward, listened closely, though she could only make out a few words here and there, beyond the shuffle and shifting. There were two other voices that she didn’t recognize. She squinted until she could sort of see them coming into view. 

“. . .lucky that we didn’t. . .” 

They’re barely talking above a whisper, which is the problem. Or, Y/N guesses that makes more sense than in movies where everyone is speaking at top volume when they’re in public about to kill someone in an alleyway. This was a public park, and while not a well-trafficked one, there were still enough people coming through to be careful. 

“Fucker,” there’s a spitting sound, “Mind your fucking business –” 

“No, I think you need to mind yours,” Y/N could hear better, pressed her body against the bark of a tree, one palm against the trunk, and then her cheek against her knuckles, “You’re fucking stupid to follow her.”  

There’s a scoff from the other end – Y/N can’t see them well, but she thinks if she stepped out anymore, she’d definitely be in view of them, “What, are you mad that your bitch is involved now?” 

Y/N grimaced when she heard the crack of what she imagined was a fist meeting a body part, the huff of air leaving someone’s lungs. More scuffling sounds, while her heart is still doing flips, taking her stomach along for the ride. There’s a sweat building at the back of her nape – she’d never really been around anything violent before, and the sounds are horrible. 

“Fuck, okay, okay, let up, man, shit,” the man spoke again – “S’not. . .it’s like I said before, I’m just following orders. I don’t know what they’re planning.”  

She swallowed thickly, still trying to catch her breath. Y/N lulled her tongue over her mouth, her lips feeling dry and cracked as the wind started to pick up, rustling the leaves surrounding them. Her mind was at least a little at ease now that she knew Harry was okay. It was also a little tied in knots because, from her eavesdropping, she’s just found out this guy has been following her. Has it been for a while now? Or just today? How did Harry find out? And who was with Harry beating this guy up? The aforementioned Adam? Or someone else he worked with. 

There’s another thud, like a body hitting the ground, and a low groan, “Will you take care of him?” Harry sighed, “We need to get back to the car.” 

Y/N mouths ‘fuck’ to herself before pivoting on her heel. Would she be able to make it back to the car without Harry seeing her? Stupid idiot, she should have left as soon as she realized that he was okay! Now he’s going to know she chased after him, because there’s no way she’s going to be able to maneuver these trees, get to the path, and get back to the car without him noticing at all. Her heart is racing for a whole different reason now, as she tries to avoid any twigs or leaves that would crunch beneath her feet. She’s lucky it wasn’t autumn, or else every single step would’ve echoed like a plate shattering in a silent room. 

Still, she was out of breath, panting as soon as her feet hit the actual pavement. It’s only when she’s out of the treeline that she realizes Harry said We need to get back to the car, instead of I need to get back to the car. 

“Y/N,” Harry’s voice emerges from behind her, and startles her so bad, she thinks if she needed to pee, it would’ve been down her leg by now. His tone is nowhere near the silly, softhearted one he usually gives her. “I thought I told you to wait in the car?” 

Slowly does she turn around to face him. The image is shocking, to say the least – the cute knitted top was spared, but his fist was covered in blood that wasn’t his own. There’s a smear of dirt and something dark on his bottoms too, near the cuff on the left side. She’d never seen Harry like this before – whatever he was getting up to during the day, he’d always been relatively cleaned up before he came to get her from work. All dimpled smiles and fresh clothes, with cuts and bruises lining his knuckles. If someone asks about them in public (namely, the sweet old women he bewitches into loving him at all their regular stores), he tells them that he boxes in his free time and his gloves aren’t very good. 

And sure, he kind of does box in his free time, only it’s someone’s face, not a bag of cut-up textiles and rubber mulch. Her brain is swimming, slurring around as she tries to make sense of this. The sinking sun leaves shadows all over, dancing across her pupils, obscuring her view, and confusing her further. 

Harry looked down at himself, his brows raised like he hadn’t realized there was blood on his fist, on his arm, up to his elbow like he’d really hit the guy hard. He looked back up at her, gaze much softer, “Baby, are you scared?” 

Was she scared? Y/N is really confused. She’s frightened that someone was following her, yeah, and Y/N wondered how long that had been happening. The fact that someone could be trailing behind, and she didn’t have even an inkling of an idea, made her insides twist uncomfortably. There’s room to go down a rabbit hole of panic-inducing thoughts about how many times she could have been followed, but she has to wipe that away. What was scarier was that someone wanted her for something, but she wasn’t sure what it was. That guy didn’t even know, or at least he said he didn’t. Did Harry know? 

And the other scary thing. . .the elephant in the room (or in the park, she guesses). Harry had only ever been fun-loving and silly after the mess of their first meeting. That night, he had truly scared her, with a knife to her throat and a threat in her ear, but as soon as he realized she was telling the truth, he was all giggles and apologetic smiles. Even at his freakiest, when she knew he was tapped into her phone and probably stalking her every move to make sure she didn’t go to the police station, she wasn’t that afraid of him. It was hard to be when he went to bowling parties for his niece, liked to embroider, and sweet-talked Gladys at the fruit tea place, when he was always so gentle with her, and sweet, calm, and patient. 

To hear that serious, stone-cold, threatening tone again was scary, yeah. To hear him beat that guy up was scary. But could she really fault him for any of that? This was his job, she knew what it was, even though he tried to keep her as separate from it as he could. But she knows what he does – she’s known. Seeing it in person is just a different thing entirely. 

The thing was, too, that he was in this predicament, with this particular man, because he was protecting her. At least that’s what she’d gathered from the limited amount of conversation she’d heard. 

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of wet towelettes – the same ones he used to wipe her hands when she’d gotten ice cream all over them. He runs them over his knuckles and up his arm, a hasty clean up, though there was very little he could do about his bottoms. Harry pockets the messy napkin, tucked away out of sight, like the gun that she has no idea where he put it. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N’s voice sounds hoarse, like she hadn’t spoken for hours when it’d only been just a few minutes, “I’m – ah. . .I’m really sorry, I just.  . .I got worried and –” 

“No, I’m sorry,” he rushed forward, using his cleaner hand to turn her, pivoting them in the direction of the car, “C’mon, baby, let's get you home. You shouldn’t have had to see that.” 

Technically, it’s Y/N’s fault that she saw it, but she doesn’t fight him on the semantics. She just lets him guide her to the car, still with great haste, but less urgent and scary than before. He takes the keys from her (that she’d stuffed in her jort pockets, knowing they’d be way harder to grab), then takes her to her seat, buckles her in again, and shuts the door. When he pops open his seat again, he reveals that the gun had been tucked in his waistband before he carefully deposits it back in its proper bag. Y/N is suddenly re-aware of the taser she’d shoved in her cardigan. 

“Oh, I –” she pulled it back out before he could close up his seat, “I took this. Just in case.” 

Harry’s eyes lit up, surprised, and a soft smile graced his mouth, “Good girl,” he murmured, and the praise stroked something inside of her that longs to be petted and patted. Especially when she thought he was going to lay into her – which is still an option, probably, but at least not right now. 

Before he got in, he did a quick sweep, it seemed. Y/N isn’t sure what he’s searching for, but he checks the little pockets, nooks, and crannies of the outside like he’s searching for something. He seemed pleased when he came up short, with a little nod. He crawled into the car, started it up, and immediately pulled them out of the parking lot. There were no other cars there at all, besides a random bike and the owner of it sitting on a bench with his dog and a coffee cup. Y/N wondered if he was sketchy too, but he didn’t even look up when they were driving off (she knew this because she stared at him through the rearview the entire time, now swallowed with paranoia). 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to drive us around for a while, okay? Just to make sure nobody is following us. I’ll explain what’s going on while we do, okay?” 

She swallowed hard again, “Yeah,” she agreed, “That sounds good.” 

                                                             .                             .                            .

They drive for an hour. 

Y/N is unsure where they all go; she just knows that he’s taking roads and ways that she’d never been before herself. Once they leave the more city area, she gets lost in the roads that make up the suburbs, but she guesses that’s for the best. It’d be more obvious if someone were following them on roads where there were only a few cars in each lane, rather than the near-constant influx and flow of taxis, SUVs, and sedans downtown. The trees are really flourishing here; there are long roads where there are only trees on either side of them, and houses hidden at the end of paths and trails that start from the road and disappear inward. The silence out here is more eerie than it is comforting, and for that reason, Y/N is glad that Harry is not only talking, but has music playing very low in the background, just as some additional noise. 

How he explains it is that when Harry is unable to put his full focus on monitoring their surroundings and/or is in a situation where he can’t really “work” to the extent that he needs to (i.e. fucking around with her all day instead of high-speed chases and gun fights, or whatever it is that he does) – he has Adam cover some of the slack. Adam is someone he works for/with, so he trusts him wholeheartedly. Harry explained to her some high-tech software that they utilize, but most of it goes over her head, so the long and short of it was that there was an unregistered vehicle that had been flagged once at the nail place, which wasn’t too concerning, but once again, in a gravel parking lot adjacent to the one she and Harry were in, on the opposite side of the wooded area he’d been hidden in. 

So Adam messaged Harry, snuck into the woods, and. . .well, yeah – they beat the guy’s ass but didn’t get much out of him. 

“Ugh, I really try to keep you out of most of it,” he tells her, “Because I don’t want you to worry about anything or think too deeply about shit, but now that you’re like, pretty much directly involved, I feel like you have a right to know more.” He combed his hair from his face, shaking it out, “Finley, the pet food guy? The whole pet food thing is a pretty big rouse – I mean, he definitely does sell it, but it’s shit quality, and full of fillers and severely limited in nutrients, like it’s seriously worse than –” 

“Harry.” 

“Right, sorry,” he got back on track, “Basically, there’s a lot of drug and gun trafficking going on – real sick shit, y’know? It’s not a big ring, by any means, he’s no cartel, but it’s polluted enough of the city that government officials started to take note of it. And with a relatively sharp and random increase in crime rates, it looks bad on them, is bad for funding, things like that.” He waved his hand around, “A ton of legal B.S. gets involved when you’re trying to take something like this down, even at a small scale, so sometimes it’s easier to hire out, y’know? Which is where my, uh. . . “company” comes in. Adam and I have been following this for a very, very long time. The night you were meant to have your blind date, he was supposed to meet up with Antonyia.” He took another turn, through a little town area with grocery stores, fast food, and sit-down restaurants, different furniture stores, and chains. It’s bright, and there are a lot of people. 

“Antonyia, we believe, has connections to his seller. You know, when you hire an exterminator for bugs whose main diet is other bugs? You have to get rid of the bugs that are being eaten, as well as the bugs that are overrunning your house. Take away their food source, and then they don’t come back, y’know? We could get rid of Finley, sure, but then they’d distribute to another stupid bloke that’s hungry for a power trip. And we could get rid of them, but then there’d be another, again, and again, and again – so we need to take out their food. Right? Was that a good metaphor or was it shit?” 

Y/N giggled a little, “No, it’s good, I understand what you’re saying, I’m pretty sure,” she scratched her thigh around the bottom of the jorts, which went from being more comfortable than itty bitty shorts digging into her crotch, to being just as irritating. Y/N thinks she just can’t stand denim against her skin, honestly, “So you were hired by the government to do illegal shit like kidnapping and. . .I’m guessing like violence or whatnot?” 

“Yeahh, pretty much. So we find out who they are, where they are, tell who needs to know, they get the FBI involved, blah, blah, blah. All that. I couldn’t have you telling the police what you saw, though, because it would’ve put a huge wrench in everything. This is all a very ‘need to know’ kind of situation. I think their chief might be aware, but nobody else in the precinct.”

Y/N’s mouth feels dry – she wishes she had water or something, “So what does this have to do with me?” 

Harry heaved a hefty sigh, “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he almost whined a little, shaking his head, “I reckon he really just wants to use you, to trick us, not knowing that we know you are not Antonyia. Like, I think he wants you as a body double to fool us while they sneak her somewhere. She’s still in town, though. All the calls he makes to her come from a 40-mile radius of us, but they ping and bounce off the cell towers, so we can’t pinpoint her for sure. It’s seriously annoying. Anyway,” he glanced at her, and she was already staring at him, so of course she noticed, “I know this is all upsetting, and scary, and you deserved to know more about what was going on even before someone started following you. But baby, seriously – if I tell you to stay in the car, I really need you to, okay? If there was someone else with him. . .if they had gotten to you before you’d found me, I just. . . I can’t even stomach thinking about it. I need you to listen to me, yeah? I need you to trust me.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” she reached up, pressing her knuckles into her eyes, and was reminded by the poke of her nails that she got them done today, “I was so nervous, and I was worried that you were in there by yourself, like – like getting your ass beat or something. I knew I wouldn’t be of great help, but I thought I could be like. . .at least a distraction so you could get the jump on them.” 

Harry laughed, and with one hand, reached over and squeezed her bare knee, “I don’t know if I should be touched that you would’ve put yourself in danger for me, or offended that you think I’d get my ass beat.” 

They drive around for a little over an hour and a half in total before Harry feels comfortable taking her home. Y/N doesn’t ask what Adam is going to do with the man who was following her, because she doesn’t know if she actually wants to know (she’s okay with being in the dark about some things, actually). Her brain is so overstuffed with everything that she can barely wrap her head around all of it, but having a clearer picture of what’s going on does sort of make her feel better. She thinks it does, at least. She isn’t really sure. 

Harry parks the car, he hops out first, and rounds the car to get her again. He opens the door and holds his hand for her to take when she climbs out, then follows behind her so closely she might as well be standing on his feet and letting him walk her. She gets it, though, and honestly, she appreciates it. It feels like he’s shielding her from the public eye, and that relaxes her a little. He ushers her inside, escorting her like a bodyguard, and at this point, she doesn’t know how she could think of his role as anything but that. He is her bodyguard, keeping her safe. 

Once they get to her flat, Y/N goes in the shower immediately. She had to get these jorts off her body before she had a panic attack, so she wriggled out of them and turned the water scorching, let it pelt hot at her skin. It was weird – the day had felt like 2-in-1. Maybe even 3 – the fact that she had just been at work doing her normal job, giggling with Niall and Aki in her cubicle, not even 10 hours ago, was sort of insane. 

Y/N scrubs the day off, soaks in one of her nice oils, and lets it seep into her skin before she washes it off. By the time there’s a knock on the door, Y/N had just been sort of standing underneath the spray for a little bit with her eyes closed. “Um, yes? Come in.” She called out, peeking an eye open to make sure that, for whatever reason, she wasn’t showering with the curtain pulled wide open. 

“Sorry, I don’t want to bother you,” Harry began, “But I warmed up a towel in the dryer for you. I can just leave it on the counter?” 

“Oh! Wow, thank you, yeah, you can just leave it on the counter, I’m getting out of here in a second. Then you can have one,” she grimaced, “I guess I should have offered you the shower first since you – y’know – and the blood.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” he clicked his tongue, “Enjoy your shower, yeah? You deserve it.” 

Y/N hardly thinks she deserves it, but she appreciates him. Still, shortly after he closes the door, she gets out – steam has filled up the room and is even lifting off her damp skin while she curls the warm, fluffy towel around her body. It’s so nice, and almost immediately soothes away the goosebumps that are dotting all along her skin. How his brain works is a mystery to her – he’d just done this to be sweet? Y/N knows she should stop comparing him to past boyfriends, but she just really can’t think of any of them who treated her nearly as sweetly as he has. And she was putting out with them. 

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she shuffles to her room to get dressed for bed, while Harry slips into the bathroom behind her. The washing machine was going, so she imagined he was running his pants through a cycle. Muffy toddles into her room, jumps onto her bed, and waits patiently on Y/N’s pillow because she knows it's almost time for sleep. 

But Y/N knew she’d be restless, no matter how many stops she pulled out. She could spray her lavender scented room mist, read her favorite fanfics until her eyes grew heavy, or scroll mindlessly on an app for hours, but she knew that her brain wouldn’t shut off. Even after a hot shower, underneath her blankets with her fan whipping above her, and her kitten snuggled warm against her belly – Y/N’s body is exhausted, but her mind is absolutely wired. She could probably stay up for hours and rattle on about anything. 

For a while, she just listens to Harry bop around her flat. After his shower, he typically gets dressed in the bathroom and comes out smelling like his body wash and lotion. He’ll get a glass of water and drink it in one sitting, go to her door and make sure it’s all locked before securing it with three mobile locking mechanisms. He does the same for her windows, only he just reinforces their locks with one single mechanism beyond their usual. Y/N can hear him pull the blankets out of the basket she keeps them in, in the living room, and then she can hear him get on the couch too. 

“Harry!” She calls out to him without thinking, and can hear him pause in his routine. 

“Yeah? Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay,” she reassured him, “Could you – do you think you could come in here?” 

Harry appeared at her doorway in a little under five seconds, face drawn into a concerned pout with a soft tilt of his head, “What do you need, hm? Is it too cold? I can adjust the thermostat.” He must be referring to how she’s completely bundled up to her neck, the blankets and sheets hiding all of her body besides her head. 

That’s not her issue, though – she’s actually nice and warm under her blankets. 

“Do you think. . .” Y/N shuffled a little, “Do you think you could maybe sleep in here tonight?” 

Harry’s gaze was already soft, and yet, it somehow softens even more, “Of course, baby,” he murmurs, “Do you want me to make a pallet on the floor?”

She shook her head, “You can just get in the bed,” she told him, “I don’t mind. Besides, I hardly think the couch has been good for your back.” 

He laughed. He was in briefs, and he had some random shirt on that looked big and worn, the print on the front so faded she couldn’t make out any of it. His fabric softener smells so good, though, when he peels back the blankets and crawls in with her (Y/N thinks he usually sleeps shirtless, because sometimes she’ll go out in the living room and he’ll have pulled it off in the night, in a bundle on the back of the couch). There’s a flush of cold air that zips beneath her covers as he sets his phone on the nightstand, before he stretches out his legs and lies on her other pillow, and tucks them both back in. But still, even at his most “comfortable-looking”, after he pulled the blanket over his body, she could tell that there were all of two centimeters between him and the other end of the bed. 

Harry looked over to her, then startled at the fact that she was glaring – eyes narrowed and lips in a frown. 

“What, do I stink? Why are you all the way over there?” 

“Well, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so – oh!” Y/N wrapped her fingers around his arm, digging the new nails into his biceps a little and tugging until he got the hint and started to shuffle over to her. They’re still a little sore after getting done, but not as bad as they had been before. Harry had her take a paracetamol when they got home anyway, because she’d been complaining about a little headache, and it had alleviated it a bit. 

“If I were uncomfortable, I would’ve told you to make the pallet on the floor,” she reassured him. They were much closer now; Y/N was on her side, and Muffy was still nestled up against her belly, but she was really the only thing stopping them from being pressed right up against each other. Y/N hadn’t shared a bed with someone in a very long time, now that she thinks about it. The additional weight on the mattress and the shared body heat were even more reassuring to her than she’d imagined when she suggested it. 

Harry makes a soft noise in his throat, a small shiver rattles through him in the way it always does when you crawl under warm blankets after being in a cold room. And then she watches him physically melt into the mattress, with one big deep breath, sinking into the cushions around him. He even tilted his nose down a little, pressing the tip into her comforter and taking a big, deep breath in. 

“This is nice,” he told her, his head turned to the side so that he could look at her. Y/N wasn’t even trying to be secretive about staring at him – she had no energy to, “Your room smells so good. Same with your sheets. And, wow, this bed is really soft too.” 

“Thank you,” she replied, then realized her hand was still gripping his bicep. She lets go, but she does skim the tip of her index nail along where she knew the boat tattoo was, looping a little design, “And thank you for protecting me today. And everything else.” 

Harry stretches his other hand over to her and slips his fingers into the slots between hers, “Don’t thank me for something like that. Protecting you is a given.” He squeezed softly, “I’m sorry for scaring you, and I’m sorry for what you heard and saw, Bunny.” Bunny – that’s new. Y/N likes it more than she probably should. “And all on the day you got these pretty nails? I’m so irritated.” 

“Noo, don’t, it’s – it’s okay. I mean, aside from all of that, I had a really good day with you,” she’s being maybe too honest right now, but she doesn’t care. Harry being in her room, in her bed, makes her feel warm, safe, and all too cozy. She went from a wired, overexcitable brain to something softer and quieter. Something way closer to sleep than she thought she’d be able to get tonight.  “I always have a good day with you.” 

Her eyes were closed – she doesn’t remember closing them, but she knows that she doesn’t see Harry smile, but she can hear it in his voice when he replies, with their fingers still locked together. 

“That makes me happy, Bunny,” he tells her, “I’m so glad.” 

                                                                      .                      .                      .

Y/N is a snuggly little thing. 

Harry had his suspicions. He saw how she was with Niall and Aki at the club, how she was always slouching and snuggled close to someone’s side. Or in the way she melted into him when they were at the sex club, when he looped around her back and made her pretend to be his kitten. She was gentle and sweet, prone to turning soft as putty and mold along whoever was at her side. There had been a few times on the couch, even, just sitting side by side, that he could tell she wanted to rest against him in some way. She was someone who thrived on contact, and Harry always thought people like that were so cute. How adorable of the human body to love being pressed against another warm being, feeling dopamine and comfort from just their presence close to their skin. 

So, Harry had felt self-denying by not cuddling with her a ton, but he also didn’t want to overstep an unspoken boundary. He hardly thought he was Niall and Aki's status, who were able to receive these cuddles with next to no warning or forethought. It’s why he never really took the chance to pull her in close without permission. 

But she’d been scared today. The beginning of it had started so nicely, only to sour toward the end, and he knew her head was filled with confusion and a little distress. He isn’t sure how much she saw or heard of him talking to the fuck that was following them, but it was enough to have her shaken up at the sight of him. Enough that, when he saw her face, any form of scolding for leaving the car had faltered from his mouth. She’d seemed startled stiff and unmoving – like a poor bunny that was caught off guard eating clovers in the forest or someone’s front yard, unsuspecting.  

Had she not asked him to share her bed, he probably would have slept outside her door anyway. He’d been getting on the couch afterward, but something was unsettled in his bones. Harry needed to be closer, for his own peace of mind. He wanted her within an arm’s reach, but he’d been willing to settle for being a meter away. 

So it really wasn’t a problem for him to share the bed with her. And as soon as she fell asleep, it was like her body was a magnet to whoever was nearby. Muffy readjusted, going near their heads and getting comfortable on the pillow above her sleeping form. In an instant, Y/N was glued to his side, legs slipping over his, arm pushed up against him, her face close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck. Who was he to deny this sweet, sleeping thing, anything at all? Harry turned on his side to better accommodate her, opened up his arms, and felt as she burrowed into his chest. 

Then she truly melts into his hold, and he even hears the tiniest little snore. It’s all she needed to be sent deep into her dreams, and he’s glad. Y/N doesn’t sleep very well – he hears her get up throughout the night because he doesn’t sleep very well either. But as sleep starts to pull at him, he can sense that they’d both be sleeping pretty well tonight, snuggled together like this. 

Mr. Langley adored her. It was clear. It was like she was his niece. Harry could see the way they smirked at each other and giggled together as they exited the elevator each morning. Arthur really enjoyed her company and that made Harry very happy.

Because aside from Arthur, there were a good number of people that lived in Kingsley Place who seemed less friendly toward her. Maybe not outright dislike her, but leaned more toward distrusting her.

Cameron Rivera, for example, openly flirted with anything that moved and was immediately displeased that the pretty resident in 12A didn’t fall at his feet. (Harry was much happier about it than he could ever let on.) Cameron continued to flirt (harmlessly) with her despite her boundary. But the most obvious issue Cameron had with her was that he didn’t care that she worked for a living (and worked abundantly hard). As far as Harry could tell, Cameron got a bullshit degree and lived off a trust fund doing whatever he wanted. That included bullshit investing and app startups that his mom and dad could always bail him out if the plan went south. All it meant was a lack of understanding on his part of how she could want to work. Harry hoped that she would never fall for his charm because she deserved to do whatever she wanted to do. Not what he said she should do, not make herself smaller because she enjoyed working just to appease him—or anyone for that matter.

Sloane Sterling was one of Hailey’s friends. As such, they spent a lot of time together and so it felt natural that maybe the two young women would appreciate a third woman around the same age to add to their group. Especially someone so intelligent, beautiful, and sweet. But it was obvious that Hailey found her kindness weird. Her small talk was destabilizing. Harry could see on Hailey’s face that she wanted to hate the pretty doctor, but it was hard. How do you hate someone so kind and lovely?

Sloane was a bit nicer but a little too self-involved to really bring anyone else into her inner circle. She was constantly offering makeup and hair advice to her (even though Harry didn’t want her to change one little thing about her appearance). Sloane constantly forgot her name and didn’t understand how she could be the kind of doctor she was and all but openly gagged when she mentioned it. It was morbid to Sloane and didn’t know how anyone could want to be a medical examiner. Harry knew she kept her profession to herself and sure, he understood that Sloane was a little uneasy about it, but it was still rude.

Similarly, it seemed like Mason Collins was also not her biggest fan. Like Cameron, he found her quirky for working so hard. Mainly because Mason spent nearly four days a week on the golf course schmoozing with top financial names in the business. There was not a lot he had in common with the pretty medical examiner. For which Harry was very grateful.

Harry was selfish. He wanted her all to himself and he really had no right. She didn’t even know how much he liked her and he felt like he really couldn’t tell her. It felt wrong to like her so much. There was just so much more to her and Harry felt like there was so little of him.

Harry truly loved it when she sat by the fireplace in the lobby because it almost felt like they were working side-by-side. He even started liking her semi-frequent court appearances more and more; only because he thought she was so extra pretty and professional looking when she dressed up for the day. He (almost) didn’t mind that Lieutenant Davis picked her up. He requested she let him know when her court appearances were happening because he really liked being able to get her morning coffee before she could. It made him feel a little more useful to her.

Especially since she still bought him (and Niall) treats. She was constantly bringing sweets she baked or sandwiches from her apartment on her days off and Harry really wished that Henry had brought her around ages ago.

But all the court appearances or lounging in the lobby couldn’t compare to how absolutely beautiful she looked running alongside him. Harry was sure she’d never feel the same way but there was something so pretty about how she giggled in the muted light from over her stove as they ate grilled cheeses around her kitchen island.

Even if Harry didn’t tell her how he really felt, he felt privileged to be her friend. So, he continued on with those similar routines for months. He listened to the younger residents’ gossip about her and the older ones comment on her relation to Henry. She sat in the lobby and had her little study party with residents’ kids. She got Niall donuts and other snacks at least every other day. She also hid him from Mrs. Wentworth every now and again. She made Mr. Langley smile and brightened every one of Harry’s shifts and runs.

It felt like she had lived there for ages when it had only been a handful of months. Somehow, despite the eternity it felt like she lived there, he didn’t really know her. It was definitely, mainly, his fault. He tried so hard to keep her at arm’s length solely because he didn’t think that their relationship would never really exist. If he knew her at any deeper level, Harry worried he’d never recover. He would always pine for something that could never happen.

“S’quiet this morning,” he muttered to Niall as he sipped his coffee at the front desk. Harry didn’t get coffee for her this morning because he didn’t know what time she’d be down. It was her short shift day and she had a little more flexibility in the morning and Harry would rather die than give her gross old coffee to start her day.

He smirked. “Yeah, thank God,” he headed into the office to grab the clipboard of visits he needed to make today. He skimmed the list and whistled to himself. “I’m not going to jinx it, but this list looks like I might catch up today.”

Harry smiled. “Sounds like y’jinxed it anyway.”

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Niall asked.

He rolled his eyes. “She’s not m’girlfriend,” he grumbled. Did he sound a little more bitter than he should have? Perhaps.

“Harry,” Niall chuckled. “The fact you know who I’m referring to, is extremely telling. Would you just tell her how you feel?”

Harry shook his head. “S’not that simple,” his voice was quiet. “She’s… so smart, Niall. And so kind. And everything she does has this bigger purpose and I’m…I’m a doorman. I wait on rich people and that’s it.”

Niall frowned at his best friend. A sympathetic look came over his face. “Harry, it’s not who you are.” Harry shrugged. He was tired of having this conversation with Niall. “So you’re gonna be alone for the rest of your life?” Niall wondered. Harry shrugged and scribbled on the little notepad. “You’re being ridiculous,” Niall shook his head. “She really likes you. I don’t know how you don’t see that.”

But the problem was that maybe, in the right light, he did see it. She smiled at him an awful lot. And not just the polite smiles in greeting that most of the building gave him. There was the running alongside him at night. The way she constantly brought him treats. Or how she always complimented him in front of Mrs. Wentworth. It was madness.

In the other light, Harry just couldn’t stop thinking about how it would never work. He didn’t want to be heartbroken. Not by her. He’d gladly suffer heartbreak over and over but after these few short months and only scratching the surface of knowing her, he wouldn’t live if she broke his heart.

When Harry looked up again, Niall was gone to do his work. That was fine because the elevator pinged with someone arriving in the lobby so it was Harry’s cue to get to work all the same.

Or rather, it was a lot of someones. Hailey and Sloane stepped off the elevator and sat in the cozy chairs near the fireplace and stared at their phones. (Harry was briefly irritated because that was her spot and even though she wasn’t going to be sitting there today, Harry didn’t like the idea of anyone else sitting there).

Mason had his golf clubs on his shoulder and his phone pressed to his ear. Robert Keningston also filed out alongside Thomas Sinclair, two older gentlemen who had lived at Kingsley Place for ages. Harry figured they were likely on their way to the offices they worked in and wouldn’t be surprised if they shared a cab. Everyone was in a quiet conversation and for a moment it just felt really nice; almost like a family, in a really weird way.

Harry loved his job, he really did. Whether he would ever see himself as more the way Niall said she saw him, was to be determined.

The elevator pinged again after a few moments, and his favorite resident stepped into the lobby. She made direct eye contact with him first. A smile bloomed across her pretty face making her even more beautiful. She was wearing scrubs and her hair was wrapped in a clip at the back of her head. Harry clicked the order button on his phone for her usual coffee order. “Good morning, Mr. Styles,” she said heading to the front desk.

“Good morning,” he smiled gently back at her. “Short day today, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Thank God,” she sighed. She looked a little tired. Not in a bad way but maybe got a bad night’s sleep. “I desperately need a nap.”

“Did y’mattress ever deliver?” He asked.

“Well—”

“Harry!” Cameron came down on the elevator with Mrs. Wentworth. A late start for her, but she headed right to the mailboxes as she always did.

“Mr. Rivera,” he nodded politely.

“I have an important package coming today, could you bring it to my apartment?”

“Yes, sir,” he said easily.

“Sorry to interrupt, Doc,” he winked at her waiting patiently. “You look gorgeous today,” he smiled knowingly.

She snorted. “Thank you, Cameron,” she shook her head.

“I think I’d be cured just looking at you if I came to you with an illness,” he continued.

She covered her mouth again to hide her awkward laugh and even though Harry hated that Cameron was flirting with her so openly, he rather enjoyed the blush of pride on her cheeks. She should feel good about what she did and for better or worse, Cameron was right.

She was absolutely stunning.

However, that burst of pride disappeared after a moment. “She’s not that kind of doctor, Cameron,” Hailey reminded him as she and Sloane made their way over. Harry suspected Hailey was a bit enamored with Cameron and probably got quite jealous of him flirting with anyone. But he knew Hailey wasn’t her biggest fan, so it surely only made her angrier.

Harry saw something flash in her eyes as she looked away from the group of young money residents. Something that Harry was used to feeling so he recognized it almost immediately. But he couldn’t believe it…

Did she feel inadequate? That couldn’t possibly be true. She was the least inadequate. More adequate than he could ever imagine. Adequate was such a terrible descriptor for her anyway. “Well, I’ve got to get to work,” her voice got much softer as she spoke. The bubbliness in her eyes disintegrated before his eyes.

“I ordered you coffee,” Harry murmured. “Wait a minute, yeah? I’ll run up the street and grab it.” He offered.

She bit her lip and Harry could see the unease in her eyes. It was so rare to see it, and it made him feel like shit that she felt less than in front of a bunch of snobby people. “I think I’ll just head to work,” she shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll see you after lunch,” she swallowed. “Thank you, Harry.”

He nodded. A frown pursed on his lips. He felt bad he couldn’t get her the coffee she probably wanted but didn’t want to force her. “Have a nice day, Miss,” she grinned weakly and headed out the main door.

*

She needed to get her bed squared away. By the time she got home from work she was simply too exhausted and the number listed didn’t work so she needed to Google the correct one which was a process in itself. Then there was dinner to cook—or a run to go on (and she’d rather never sleep again than not go on a run with Harry). Or there was another project to deal with and quite frankly the couch and air mattress were enough, for now so it really didn’t feel like a big enough deal to argue with the company when she was exhausted.

She could have just ordered a new one. It was ridiculous she hadn’t at this point.

Stupid even.

But there was just something about it that was so irritating she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Like when she needed to schedule a dentist appointment and just couldn’t. It should have been there by now and even if it was really only hurting herself, she didn’t want to deal with it.

“Do you want to try this taco truck for lunch?” Brooke asked, knocking on her office door and entering without waiting for her reply.

She did. She really wanted to have a friend like Brooke. More than she wanted her new mattress. (But not as much as she wanted to see her favorite doorman.)

But there was something off about the report she was going over. It seemed familiar. Like there was a word or something on the tip of her tongue and she couldn’t piece it together. She wasn’t supposed to stay longer than her short shift but it was going to keep her up if she couldn’t figure it out and she had a better chance of staying focused on whatever was hiding in her brain if she was in the office.

“I’ll have to pass this time, but thank you,” she smiled kindly. “Have a good weekend.”

“See you Monday!” She chirped and practically skipped out the door.

She scanned the report in front of her again. Was it a relative of another person she did a report for? Maybe it was just a coincidence. She sighed, rubbed her temples trying to get the ideas to flow.

A new bed would have probably helped with the thoughts scrolling through her mind. A solid night’s sleep would have done wonders for her in general, but especially when she needed it right then.

“Hmm,” she hummed to herself. She fiddled with her pen and stared at the same words and names as she had for the last few minutes. Nothing continued to make much sense. Just an idea on the edge of her brain, something she couldn’t quite touch or hold just out of reach.

With a deep sigh, she set all the papers aside for the time being. She needed to clean up and do some inventory. Maybe it would come to her on a run. The weather was getting warmer and it was remaining lighter out for longer. Running with Harry meant there were some really pretty sunset skies peeking through wispy clouds and she seriously thought that the entire universe was out to make her feel ridiculous over a man that clearly didn’t want her. It was practically romantic (if it weren’t for her heavy breathing as she struggled to keep up with Harry) and wildly unfair.

She stayed later than she should have; waiting for an epiphany that simply wouldn’t come. With another deep sigh, she rubbed the back of her neck, closed her office and headed for Kingsley Place.

Harry wasn’t at his desk when she returned, which made her sad and soured her day even more.

She turned for the elevator where Mrs. Wentworth was waiting (impatiently) for the doors to open. “Afternoon, Mrs. Wentworth.”

“This elevator is on it’s last legs, I swear,” she complained.

She was a bit too tired to brighten the crabby woman’s mood, so she simply nodded. “I can put in a ticket for Niall to take a look or get a vendor to come look at it,” she offered.

She swore the old woman mumbled something like lazy bones under her breath. That was too much interaction with Mrs. Wentworth for the day she was having. She should have taken the coffee Harry offered earlier in the morning. “Ah shoot,” she glanced in her bag making a show of it. “I left my phone in the car,” she murmured and headed toward the main entrance.

“The good it would do you young’uns to lose your phone for a bit,” she said knowingly as the elevator pinged with its arrival. She rolled her eyes and smirked to herself and decided she may as well go get the coffee she desperately needed if she was going to go a few rounds with the company refusing to deliver her mattress or make any accommodation to remedy the situation.

She waited in line patiently behind the after-lunch crowd. She wanted to sleep in a bed. Maybe she could go visit her family and sleep in her old bed. Or rent a hotel room. Anything to get the knot out of her neck.

“All set, Miss. Harry told us the next one was on him,” the barista behind the counter smiled kindly at her. Her chest tightened at the sound of his name. It was extremely thoughtful of him; and she knew he knew how affected she was by the words of Hailey, Sloane and everyone else. Getting her a coffee was very kind of him. Even if he was just doing his job.

She returned to Kingsley Place and was greeted once more with an empty lobby. Fortunately, no one (crabby) was waiting for the elevator either. She frowned a little deeper at the sight of the empty desk without her favorite doorman present. She was hoping she could thank him, but perhaps she could email him or send him a text to the work number he gave her.

She was so tired she thought that maybe the air mattress really wouldn’t be that bad today. That the fight with the company could wait yet another day. She took a deep breath and dropped her bag at her feet when she stepped on the elevator trying to alleviate the stress pains in her shoulder blades. The elevator rose to her floor and she practically dragged her bag behind her through the entryway.

She made the executive decision that there would be no arguing phone calls today. Instead, she hopped in the shower; let the hot water run over her aches for some time before getting out. Her coffee wasn’t doing a great job at keeping her eyelids open as she put moisturizer on her cheeks and down the sides of her neck. She put on some clothes that she would be willing to run in after her nap. Honestly, the floor sounded as good a place as any to nap.

As soon as her socks were on and she truly considered sleeping on the floor because she couldn’t even bear the thought of bringing herself to her air mattress, there was a rapid, loud knocking on the door. Because of course there was.

But the rapid pounding didn’t let up for several seconds and all thoughts of sleep left her brain. She rushed over and pulled the door out of the way. She quickly assessed with her eyes before any of the hurried words from the frantic woman before her caught in her ears.

There was a small girl heaving in the mother’s tight hold at her waist. Her name was Aurelia. She heard the mom in front of her call after the small girl in the lobby a few times before while she worked in front of the fireplace and ogled Harry. It was usually to tell Aurelia not to run through the lobby.

But there was only so much she could make out over the anxiety and high pitched-near-shrieking that Mom was shouting at her and into the phone at the same time. Aurelia’s skin was red and blotchy; her lips were turning the slightest shade of blue and were swelling by the second. There were so many tears between the two people before her and the sound of a methodical, calm voice coming from the phone held in Mom’s hand.

Ten minutes out.

We’re trying to get someone to you.

She could almost picture the medical box in Harry’s office with the AED. There was enough of a chance that an Epi-pen was in there to get her moving faster. She grabbed the woman and child by the arm and ushered them into the elevator—she wasn’t sure she closed her door, but it didn’t matter. While Mom spoke into the phone, she crouched beside the young girl. Her mother was (rightly) distraught as she sobbed into the phone. “We’re going to get you help,” she promised as calmly as she could to the little girl. She was so very thankful there was not one stop to the bottom floor. But perhaps because she held the close door button down superstitiously the entire time helped a bit too. The little girl looked terrified as she tried to catch a breath that just wouldn’t come.

“Does she have an allergy?” She asked looking up to the mother.

“Not one I knew about,” her mom cried. It wasn’t uncommon to spontaneously develop an allergy. But it was terrifying, of course.

We’re sending someone as soon as we can to help and ambulance will be there as soon as we can.

Goddammit.

Quietly she introduced herself to the dispatcher, gave her credentials and explained the situation as best she could from the medical professional standpoint.

The tiredness she felt in the shower was gone and hardly more than a memory. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins rapidly as she watched the little girl struggle to breathe. She quietly spoke to her and told her not to panic as much as she possibly could—that she was extremely brave and there would be help in no time. The elevator pinged on its arrival to the lobby.

Right as they stepped off the elevator Aurelia collapsed.

Her mom screamed something fierce. She grabbed the girl before she hit her head in the fall. She laid Aurelia flat on the floor, checked her pulse in her wrist first, then her neck. The phone slipped from her mother’s grip.

“What the— oh… oh God.”

The gentle tenor of Harry’s voice wasn’t enough to calm her nerves as it usually did. She started compressions on the little girl’s chest knowing that a broken rib was okay and expected (but praying she didn’t anyway). “Harry, do you have an Epi-pen in the AED box?” She asked quickly, breathlessly with the exertion.

He was barely in sight to hear the full question before he was hurrying into his office. There was a siren distantly, she wasn’t sure it was for them, but she silently hoped it was. Harry returned with the box and set it on the floor next to her. She continued the compressions as Harry opened the kit and pulled out a variety of first aid items. Harry spotted the yellow, orange, and blue medication. He unclipped it from the plastic, tubular packaging.

“Orange to thigh, blue to the sky under your thumb,” she ordered. Harry swallowed hard lining his thumb up. “Harry,” she said gently, encouragingly. Her voice was quite a bit uneven as she continued her compressions. “It’s okay, you can do it. I’m here,” she assured him. He nodded, looking a little paler. He didn’t want to mess up, she knew that. No one did. Aurelia’s mother was doing her best to remain calm while the dispatcher gave her a time update. “Take the cap off the end,” she grunted breathing heavily as she pushed against Aurelia’s chest as hard as she was supposed to.

The siren was louder. Harry followed her direction as people stopped to ogle at the building from the window. “You’re going to push it hard into her leg,” she explained. “You’ll feel a pop or a click and you’re going to push your thumb down for three seconds don’t pop it off her leg, you have to hold it,” she warned.

He swallowed hard again and turned Aurelia’s leg just a hair to get a better angle of her outer thigh. “I don’t—”

“Just do it,” she grunted. So, Harry listened. He heard the click as he pushed the needle into the outside of her thigh. “Perfect,” she was gasping as well but didn’t stop. Sweat lined her forehead right where her hair began.

“Holy shit,” it was Mason that spoke the words and he dropped his golf clubs to the side and hovered close to watch the scene unfold.

“I’ll call you back,” Cameron murmured to the phone against his ear almost at the same time.

“Check her pulse in her wrist,” she said to Harry.

“There’s a faint pul—”

Aurelia coughed and effectively interrupted Harry. Instantly, removed her hands from the little girl’s chest compressions immediately. “Hey Aurelia, welcome back,” she whispered. Her lips were still pale, her skin still blotchy. “You gave Mommy quite the scare,” her own voice strained with all the exertion. She pushed strands of Aurelia’s hair back and smiled softly. “You’re being so brave, I think someone’s here to take you to the hospital now,” she said knowingly and glanced toward the main entrance. Lieutenant Davis rushed inside while telling the crowd to be on their way.

“Doc, what a surprise,” Lieutenant Davis said and helped the mother off the floor, “Spence,” he said into cell phone. “I’m on scene, I’m taking her in my car let them know we’ll be there in less than ten.”

“Do you need help?” She asked standing quickly.

“You have no shoes on,” he stated glancing at her feet. “I’ve got it,” he winked at her calmly. Aurelia’s breathing improved a little more by the second and would at least get her to the hospital before something more needed to be done or she started to struggle again.

Harry kindly helped Aurelia’s mother to the Lieutenant’s car. It was the same way Harry guided her to his SUV when she had court appearances early in the morning. She was irrationally jealous. It wasn’t the time, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She had a tiring day, and it was supposed to be her short day.

She grabbed the discarded clips and tubes from the Epi-pen and padded in just her socks across the lobby to Harry’s office to toss them away.

Her chest ached with something she couldn’t quite place. It didn’t make sense. She did the right thing. The thing anyone would have done in her situation. Not solely because she was a doctor.

For some reason the words Hailey spoke that morning were at the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t that kind of doctor. What Hailey said was accurate. She didn’t usually fix people the way a typical doctor did.

But she did fix Aurelia. The little girl wasn’t going to suffer from any lack of oxygen or blood flow. She was going to get a new diet regimen for whatever allergy she had and have a fun new story to explain at show and tell in her elementary class.

Everyone was huddled at the window watching Lieutenant Davis and Harry get the mother and daughter in the SUV and on their way.

As much as she loved the lobby (almost more than she loved her new apartment) and would have loved to see Harry for longer than a minute… she was… a bit… overwhelmed. A bit upset with… everything. Anxiety clawed at her chest, she felt this undeniable need to get out of the lobby as quickly as she possibly could.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, she let the dam burst and cried all the way to the twelfth floor.

 What she would’ve given to have a princess moment and throw herself on her bed and sob into her pillow.

But her couch would have to do. As that was all there was.

*

“I was gone for half an hour, and I missed all the excitement,” Niall said settling the sandwiches he got for Harry and himself on the desk.

Harry was filling out paperwork about the incident. He would need her signature on the report. He was hoping to make sure she was alright after all the fanfare, but by the time he got Aurelia and her mother settled in the lieutenant’s car, she was gone. Harry desperately wanted to go after her, but he had to do the proper paperwork, and he hoped that maybe he could just… be there for her if she needed someone. It broke his heart that she disappeared. No one thanked her. Not even Davis.

Harry wanted to thank her. He was scared out of his mind and she was utterly calm.

“She was incredible,” Harry murmured quietly, reverently even.

Niall grinned. “You think she’s incredible all the time.”

Harry rolled his eyes and finished his paperwork before he turned to his sandwich. “S’neither here nor there.”

Niall smirked and unwrapped his sandwich. “You didn’t go after her?”

“I don’t want t’have t’stop t’do something else. I’d rather give her m’undivided attention,” he explained around a mouthful of food. Harry ran a hand through his hair and fiddled with the pen he used to fill out the report. “M’gonna go up after I get the report settled. I have t’order a new Epi-pen for the kit…” he explained. “I should probably figure out what I need t’do for Aurelia and Mrs. Higgins. They’re going t’be out of sorts.”

Niall nodded in agreement. His eyebrows pinched together suddenly and then he nodded his chin out toward the main lobby. “Your girlfriend’s leaving,” he stated.

Harry didn’t bother with correcting him. He would have, but she had a carry on behind her and she was all but sprinting for the door. “You scuffed the elevator floor,” Mrs. Wentworth grumbled bitterly after her.

Harry hurried after the pretty doctor right as she got to the main door. “Hey!” He called gently and caught her by the elbow right as she turned outside the door. “Where y’off to 12A? I was going to—”

It was clear he should have gone after her immediately after he helped Mrs. Higgins and her daughter into the SUV. He was fairly certain the guilt would wrack him at night for weeks. It was going to eat at him until there was nothing left. The outside corners of her eyes were pink and red—like they were rubbed too hard for too long. The tip of her nose a similar shade.

And then she sniffled, avoiding his gaze. “Hey…” he said gently.

“Did you need something?” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked past Harry.

“Darling,” he hummed softly and reached for her upper arm in a (hopefully) comforting way. “Are you—”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” her voice caught on his name, and she put a hand to her mouth. “I… I really need to sleep. And I need to sleep on a bed and I’m going to a hotel, so can this wait until—”

“Can what wait? What do y’mean y’need t’sleep in a—?”

There was no other way to describe what he saw. The most beautiful looking diamonds appeared in her eyes. They sparkled in the sunlight, and she brought a hand to her mouth and heaved on a breath. Harry didn’t understand how she could look so pretty and sad at the same time. It was a marvel. The tears that built in her eyes looked like the prettiest most gems he’d ever see in his life. “Harry,” she croaked.

“C’mere,” he put his hand on her lower back and ushered her inside. She shook her head and tried to tug away from him. It was almost futile. Like she was too weak to really get away.

“I don’t want to—”

“Jus’ for a minute, love. Jus’ need t’check on you—”

“Harry,” she whined. He wanted to take the sadness out of her voice. Wanted to pluck all the pain from her as she swiped at her eyes with her hands. Niall swiftly made his way out of the office as soon as he caught Harry’s gaze from the window. He saluted Harry taking his sandwich elsewhere and let Harry have the office with the girl he liked so much.

Once inside the small room, he closed the door behind them.

An anguished little cry burst from her mouth once the door was shut and Harry just wanted to hold her. He wanted to squeeze the hurt out of her. He didn’t know what else to do or what else he could do.

So he did it. He wrapped her in his arms while the sound of the door closing still echoed in the quiet room. He held her against his body and hoped that it would do something to take the sadness out of her pretty eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispered above her head. “Aurelia’s fine,” he promised.

“I—” she sniffled, gasping like she couldn’t breathe. Harry felt terrible. Her arms weakly grabbed at his waist and he couldn’t help how good it felt to hold her like this. What he would have given for it to be a better reason.

“Y’were so brave, darling,” he murmured into her hair. “M’sorry y’had t’go through that,” he cupped the back of her head with one hand and gently massaged his thumb against the side of her neck. His other hand moved slowly, softly along her spine. “I should have gone after you,” he squeezed her for a brief moment. “M’sorry, love,” he sighed sadly. “Can I do something for you?”

She shook her head against him and cried softly. “I—” she heaved, trying to regulate her sobs. “I didn’t—”

“Shh,” he hushed softly. “Jus’… let it out, darling,” he continued the soft massage against her neck and pulled her closer toward him somehow. It felt so nice to have her warm and close to him. “You did so good,” he murmured softly into her hair. “It was incredible, love. Truly.”

She sniveled and took a shaky breath. “I just… Hailey said I’m not—”

He physically winced against her. He wondered if she felt the way his body tensed. He was really hoping that wouldn’t be what she said. “Don’t…” he sighed. “You are incredible. You saved Aurelia’s life,” he reminded her. “That’s…” he shook his head. “Y’can’t listen t’what she said when y’jus’… performed a miracle.”

She snorted. “It wasn’t a miracle,” she mumbled humbly.

“It was, love. Y’were home. Y’stayed calm. Y’were… there,” he hoped the awe in his voice was reaching her. “M’glad you were there. I would have panicked a bit without you,” he said knowingly. She pulled back just a little and it felt so cold Harry wanted to pull her right back into his embrace. “Thank you,” he hoped his gratitude was as evident as his awe.

Her mouth deepened into a frown and a fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she muttered.

“Do you need anything?” He asked.

She shook her head and glanced down at his shirt. There was dried salt already staining the fabric. “I can get your suit dry cleaned,” she offered softly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. What was it y’were saying ‘bout your bed? It still hasn’t delivered?” He supposed that made sense. He would have remembered a mattress delivery. Wasn’t exactly a small package that he would have missed. But he should have noticed that he hadn’t seen it.

She shook her head again.

“So you’ve been sleeping on your couch?” He asked.

She shrugged. “I have the air mattress too—”

“S’unacceptable,” he pouted. “Where did y’get it from?” he asked and pulled the last bit away from her and turned to his desk. He picked up a pen and scribbled down the company name she gave him. “D’you have the confirmation number?” She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped on her screen a few times until she listed off a series of letters and numbers. “What hotel are you going to?” He hated that she was leaving. For any length of time, really. Truthfully, part of him almost hated that she worked as much as the young-money residents did. Solely because he just wanted her to be there, around him, all the time. But he wanted her to feel better more than he cared about being selfish about her presence.

“It’s just… around the corner on Seventh and Main,” she shrugged. “I just need a real mattress,” her voice cracked again.

He nodded sympathetically and smiled gently at her. “You do,” he affirmed. “Can I call you a cab?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I can walk. I… I feel better now,” she sniffed. “Thank you for… letting me have a minute,” she swallowed. “I didn’t really have a good day,” she dropped her gaze to her feet.

“M’sorry,” he said gently. “M’sure a good sleep will make y’feel better.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, darling. Y’were brilliant today,” he continued to grin at her. Hopefully in a way that didn’t make him look ridiculous. He felt ridiculous. But he couldn’t help it. She was lovely and wonderful, and she just made him smile even when he didn’t want to.

A beautiful bloom of pink spread across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed. “Can you… just see if anyone is out there? I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. And… I’m sorry I scuffed—”

“Love, don’t,” he shook his head quickly and moved to the doorway and opened it. For all the excitement there was earlier, there wasn’t a soul in the lobby at present. “S’all clear. Call if y’need something,” he offered.

“Thank you,” she repeated. “Harry?” She said softly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for the coffee, that… was the highlight of my day.”

Harry tilted his head down a bit and felt a wave of blood rush across his face. But a smile twinged at his lips. “Anytime,” he walked beside her to the main entrance and held the door open. “Have a nice day, Miss.”

“Have a nice day, Harry.”

“Sleep well,” he smiled gently as she walked away. The smallest smile graced her pretty lips as she glanced over her shoulder back to him. Harry watched her walk away until he couldn’t see her any longer then hurried back inside.

He pulled up the phone number for her mattress company and scribbled it down beside the other information he got from her. He would call them in a minute.

But he had a different, more important and pressing phone call to make. “Good afternoon,” he said to the receptionist. “Can y’transfer me t’Raleigh at the spa?”

“Hello?”

“Raleigh, hi. Harry from Kingsley Place. I need a favor.”

He heard Raleigh chuckle at the other end. “You taking me up on my spa day offer?”

When the spa first opened in the hotel, Raleigh had come to the luxury apartments all around their small city as well as some of the neighboring ones. Business was slow at first, which was to be expected, but Harry could tell Raleigh was nervous that he wasn’t going to make it with his big plans for the pretty spa.

Fortunately, Harry conveniently suggested to Hailey that she try the spa up the road after she pulled a muscle playing tennis.

And if Hailey told her millions of followers about the quality of the spa, well, that was none of Harry’s business.

“Something like that,” he nodded to himself. Harry was going to make sure the brilliant, pretty doctor had a nice end to her day regardless of the beginning of it.

--

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ii.

Y/N doesn’t know if she should be suspicious or not. 

Because here is the thing: she sees Harry everywhere. Everywhere. It started first with the boba place beside the vet, sure, and then at the bowling alley, but soon he pops up in places that she often frequents. Places she’s never seen him before, until after she met him, though she isn’t sure she could use that against him. Maybe they’d been passing by each other this whole time and had no idea how prevalent they’d become in one another’s lives. Or maybe Harry is following her much closer than he’d initially led her to believe. 

She isn’t sure. It wouldn’t make sense, she thinks, if this were him following her. He had told her from the very start that if he wanted to follow her, she wouldn’t know or notice, but maybe that had just been to throw her off? Like, he said it so that if he ever did get caught, then it wouldn’t be obvious he was following her? 

Because every time Y/N sees him, he is heavily involved in doing something else. Like, if he were following her, he was not doing a good job at paying attention to her at all, or at least that’s what she thinks. If she were to stalk someone, then she’d make more of an effort to focus.  

For example, she ran into him at the grocery store near her flat. It was a big one in the area, but it was a chain, so there were multiple around the city, meaning it wasn’t like he needed to be at that very one specifically. The weather was so nice that week, which – if you asked Niall – was always around the time Y/N started on her “Girl Who is Going To Be Okay” tour, so she’s meal prepping and making vows to eat better. That means she’s filling up her cart with lots of fruits and veggies, tofu, whole grains, and a couple of snacks for when she inevitably gives up because cooking every fucking day is too hard (and how dare you expect her to eat leftovers for more than lunch the following day?). 

Anyway, she was pushing a heavy cart out of the snack cake aisle when she almost slammed her cart into someone rounding the corner. “Oh my god! I’m sorry,” she rushed, feeling as rattled as her cart, but then she looked up at the person, expecting a soccer mom with a cart full of juice boxes – and instead, she saw Harry. Her eyes widened, calling his name. 

Once he registered it was her, Harry’s smile stretched wide and bright, “Oh, Y/N, hi,” his dimples are deep crevices in his cheeks, and her thumbs itch to dig into them, but she shoves the thought away, “Wow, your trolley is pretty heavy, isn’t it? Do you need some help pushing?” He’d inquired as if he wasn’t pushing his own full cart of groceries. 

Y/N couldn’t help but peer at him, though, “You come to this store?” 

He nodded, “Yeah, all the time.” 

“Really? That’s so crazy, I’ve never – I’ve never seen you here before.” 

Harry hummed, running his palm along the handle of his cart, “Yeah, isn’t that crazy? I’ve never seen you either, haha, are you stalking me?” He was teasing, at least she’s pretty sure he was, “If you’re concerned, though, I have some receipts from the last couple of months, before you and I ever met. I have an app that, if I scan the receipts, gives me points toward a gift card. Would that make you feel better? If I send you some?” Y/N opened her mouth to tell him no, because she wasn’t trying to seem crazy, but he cut her off, “Actually, I’ll just go ahead and send them.” Then he motioned toward her cart, “But seriously, Sweetheart, that’s full. You’ll have trouble carrying those home, won’t you? Let me help.” 

She did end up letting him take her home with little fuss because he was right, it would have been horrible trying to cart all this home alone. Then he helped her pull it all upstairs, put it away, rearranged her fridge and pantry in a way that was more “palatable” and easy to go through if she was going to be meal prepping, gave Muffy a thousand kisses on her tiny head, then went on his way. Y/N is a little bit boggled by how quickly she went from suspicion and distrust to allowing him in her home again. She wondered if he was just good at manipulating the situation, if she was stupid, or if it was a little bit of both. Who knows? 

And, listen, if that was one off, Y/N wouldn’t have thought anything about it. 

But then she sees him at a craft store, lingering around the embroidery hoops with a basket full of supplies. Y/N had been planning on going for a couple of days before she finally did it. Aki’s birthday was coming up, and she was a clay keychain making god, so Y/N was going to get her some more of the supplies that she likes to use. They’re relatively inexpensive, but “annoying to buy,” as Aki had put it. Plus, there were some paints and a new type of resin she’d mentioned that she’d like to dabble with as well, so Y/N had filled her cart full of things. Enough that she had a feeling the “inexpensive” aspect of this was no longer going to be a factor. 

That’s besides the point, though. This was the second time in the span of only a few days that she and Harry ran into each other outside of any sort of spot it’d make sense for them to meet (which, they didn’t have many – maybe an alleyway would make sense, or her flat, since he probably already knows how to get in and out through her window, no matter her being on the fifth floor). Then, she was really getting suspicious – her eyes narrowed from across the aisle. As if he had a sixth sense (and he probably does), he turned to face her. He must have felt her gaze burning into his side. 

“Oh, wow, this is getting kind of creepy,” Harry noted. 

“You’re telling me,” Y/N replied, only she was the one to approach him, keeping her cart in front of her so she didn’t have to slam it into him, “I didn’t know you embroidered.” 

There were a lot of things Y/N didn’t know about him, so it was sort of stupid to say. Like, she didn’t know what exactly his job entailed. She didn’t know how someone so weird but also kind of normal, and nowhere near gloomy enough, got involved in a job like the one he has. On top of that, Y/N doesn’t know if he is actually a psychopath who is doing a really good job at seeming normal. 

But she doesn’t know what his favorite food might be, or if he knows how to ride a bike well. She doesn’t know if he’s a shower-in-the-morning or in-the-evening kind of guy, and if he sticks to a strict skincare routine. Y/N doesn’t know if he folds his laundry neatly and puts it away, or if he just pulls from his hamper and lives out of it like a suitcase. What was his favorite color? Did he have a favorite show? Did he like going out to eat? And why did Y/N care about any of this? 

The things she does know? Harry likes cats (he likes Muffy, especially), he actually puts his fruits and veggies in the labeled drawers in the fridge, and refuses to have cereal and granola bars on the same shelf (granola bars are a snack food, not just a breakfast food, they should be put with the snacks), his biceps are big, he likes boba tea (Gladys does love him Y/N found out when she went after one of Muffy’s vet appointments, because Y/N caved and asked) he’s the “best uncle ever”, and he thinks that she’s beautiful. 

And, apparently, he likes to embroider. 

“I’m not the best at it,” he admitted to her, slipped his phone out of his pocket, and started scrolling to his photo album labeled Crafting Attempts, and he scrolled through it to show her his different “attempts”. Y/N found that Harry’s “not the best at it” and her “not the best at it” are two completely separate things. When she’s attempting something, it is usually sort of ugly: the stitches are uneven, the paint is runny, the clay has fingerprints all over it – whatever the media she’s trying to work with, because she convinces herself that she could become really good at a different craft every couple of weeks to keep life magical. 

Harry’s attempt, Y/N found, is a beautiful and intricate piece that someone would probably spend 100 quid on without batting an eyelash. He’s not just embroidering cheesy sayings with flowers around them – he’s embroidering scenes. Mountainsides and trails, coral reefs and sea sunsets – things that Y/N would have never thought to even try. Her mouth fell open as he scrolled through them, clearly his hand holding the hoop, or a couple of them, he took a selfie with them like he was proudly sending them to someone. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Y/N touched his phone, zoomed in closer on his work, “What do you mean you aren’t the best at it? This is amazing!” 

He smiled sheepishly, and his cheeks even had the nerve to color a little, “Really? You think? My nan says I still have a long way to go.” 

“I’m like. . .horrified and intrigued to see what her pieces must look like if this is what has a long way to go.” 

His dimple was cute when it popped out on the left side, and Y/N really wanted to dig her thumb into it again, but she refrained (she’s so strong-willed). “Do you work with clay?” 

So, somehow, they finish out the rest of that shopping trip together, too. Y/N explained that she was really here for Aki, and somehow or another, Harry wheedles out some information that Y/N wanted to learn how to learn how to tunisian crochet. Then he showed her the best hooks for it, the best yarn, and she was convinced she could crochet a summer tube top with the pattern he promised to send her, because he’d made one for his sister. This time, Harry doesn’t follow her home, but he does give her an air kiss and specifies that it was for her to keep, save, and give to Muffy.

Y/N sees him at the boba place again, and they sit down for a drink together. When she and Niall are picking up lunch, Harry is at the same sandwich spot (where he told the guy over the counter, “I’ll have the usual,” so it’s obviously somewhere he frequents). Getting coffee with Aki and Harry is plucking his lip at one of the tables and typing on a computer. For fuck sake, she went to get a newer, bigger telly because there was a sale at one of the department stores closer to her, and Harry is in the same store, trying to decide what LEDs to get for wrapping around his TV.  

It’s suspicious – if it were anyone else, Y/N would have for sure been convinced that they were stalking her and that was that. And, if it were anyone else, she would have probably filed a police report a long time ago and started carrying around mace. She had every reason to believe that Harry would be stalking her, due to the nature of their relationship, but every time they bumped into each other, he had just as much of a reason to be there as she did. Plus, he is always so willing to prove to her that it wasn’t him tracking her location, because “I trust you’re not going to go to the police at this point. Also, I’ll get an alert if you’re within 1 kilometer of a station, so I’m not worried.” 

There’s also the fact that wherever she ends up, Harry already seems to have been established there. His basket is always fuller, his food is typically a quarter to halfway gone, the seat he’s sitting in is warm, and the workers know him. Even in places Y/N has never been, she bumped into him. Honestly, it really is starting to look like Y/N was the one stalking him, and even Niall had questioned her on it, after the fourth coincidental run-in with Harry when she suggested they try out a new cafe across town. 

“Like, I’m not going to judge you, I’ve done my fair share of cyber stalking, but babe, if you’re trying to make a good impression, we should probably be a little less obvious that you’re following him around.” He had a straw tucked into the corner of his mouth – Harry had come to sit with them for a while, then suggested they try the peach lemonade for something refreshing and his favorite fruit tart (“I hope it isn’t too tart-y of a treat for you, to pair the both together. I’m a big fan though.”). They did,  and tried it in front of him, and after they told him how good it was, he left. 

“I’m not stalking him,” Y/N stressed, and if she could explain to Niall how, actually, it had been the other way around for a while, she would have, but she has to bite her tongue, “It is like the universe is desperate to make us cross paths at any given moment.” 

Niall hummed low, thumbing a crumb off the corner of his mouth, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but he must be your soulmate then. Like, your red string of fate is making damn sure you’ll bump into each other several times a week.” He scratched the side of his jaw, “I read this one story where Cupid was getting pissed because this couple kept ignoring blatant signs they were supposed to get together, so he came off his cloud and shoved their heads until they kissed.” He took another drink. 

Y/N sighed, “Is this the same story where Cupid had 'huge, tit-like pecs and a giant bulge’? The yaoi?” 

“Ugh, yes, it was so good,” Niall unlocked his phone, “Let me send you the link again.”  

It was weird, all of it, but again – she fully believes that if Harry was stalking her still, he’d A: Tell her about it, or B: Be so stealthy and secretive that she’d have no clue. This did seem like a next-level sort of Cupid-like fate, trying to get them to run into each other in a normal, meet-cute kind of way. Like that had been the plan all along, but they screwed it up by Y/N going on the blind date and Harry mistaking her for some model, knees deep in some garbage. 

The only time this now routine interaction starts going differently is when she accidentally goes to a sex club. 

Now, it was more complicated than it sounded. Y/N, Aki, and Niall had all made plans to go to this new spot in the city that had special, coordinated theme nights. Y2K, cybercore, burlesque, kpop, 90s hits, 80s party – things like that. They had never been before, but they had all been seeing advertisements around, whether in person, on the back of a bench, the side of the bus stop, or online, when FYP and home pages started getting a little too clued in on the area they live. And there was J.J., the receptionist at work, who overheard them speaking about it and let them know she’d gone on ‘Hippie Hooray Thursday’  and it was a great experience. The drinks were still relatively cheap, and it wasn’t overcrowded yet, like most places like it tend to get. The vibes were also very “girlie pop,” which was comforting and at least gave them a little more of a chance at escaping borderline harassment from drunk dickheads at the bar. 

On a normal day, the three of them would pull up together, not only to save money when they Lyft but also because none of them likes walking in alone. Whether that be at a restaurant, at a club, a bar, or a random swim meet, so Niall’s nephew has more people rooting for him, or Aki’s cousin’s graduation, that she didn’t want to be bored during – arriving together is a must. Namely, because it saved them from the horrible and awkward interaction of scanning the crowd in search of your friends, not being able to find them, trying to message them, and having terrible service in that moment for no other reason but to make life harder. Also, that’s too much time for an unwanted suitor to stumble up, smelling like he might have missed the toilet during his last piss, and smelling like he might have gone into a sauna without deodorant early in the morning (when everyone is at their stinkiest, or at least that’s what Y/N thinks). 

But tonight, Y/N would be a little under an hour late. She had made a promise to her neighbor that she would help them hang something – his name is Mikey. Mikey is really nice, and he and his boyfriend have helped Y/N bring in some pretty heavy boxes from the mailroom, so she thought it was the least she could do. She had a studfinder and a drill, and was at least proficient-ish enough to use them to help hang his new telly. It wouldn’t take long, but Mikey didn’t get off work until 7 PM, so it would stunt her getting-ready time by a little. 

Theoretically, Niall and Aki could wait for her, but she doesn’t want them to miss out on any time since she had made a promise to someone. And this particular club stops selling drinks at a certain time – earlier than the others, for whatever reason – so she didn’t want them to miss out on that either. They liked drinking more than her anyway, so it wasn’t like she felt pressured to catch up either. So she told them to just go ahead, and she would catch up with them. Niall sent her the address for her to put into Lyft. 

Y/N should have known something was up the moment her Lyft driver, a nicer, older woman (thank god), who raised her eyebrows when she saw where they were headed, “Oh, wow,” her voice was soft, but shocked, “I didn’t realize they’d opened up yet.” She looked through the rearview, a glint in her gaze, “My husband's been wanting to go, but I don’t know if it’s necessarily our scene.” 

“Oh no, you should definitely go! I think stuff like this can be anyone’s scene,” Y/N smiled, not thinking anything of it. She’d imagined a middle-aged couple dressed like the red carpet in the early 2000s, or in their best 1920s Hollywood glamor, having the time of their lives, and it made her heart warm. Just because you’re on the older end doesn’t mean you can’t have fun anymore – she hated that notion. 

The intersection was innocent enough. Her car smelled how they do when they’re fresh from the dealer, and the interior is sleek and dark, so she pretends that she’s a celebrity with her driver taking her to the city for a big gala. The shorts she was wearing were riding up her ass, and the seam was shoved up against her puss, but she could bear it when she was maladaptively daydreaming. Y/N messaged them that she was en route and to at least keep an eye on the door so someone could grab her when she walked in. 

When they pulled up, there was red lighting pouring out of the door, highlighting half of the bouncer's face. The theme tonight was some hybrid version of cybercore and the feeling you get when you’re in the title screen of a game on one of the first PlayStation consoles. Aki sent her a couple of Pinterest boards and brought her a bag of clothes to pick through so that she could construct an outfit. So Y/N has a glittery, silvery belt that isn’t functional mostly just for fashion, and everything is white and blue. She surprisingly had these sort of reflective boots from a rave that her cousin begged her to go to. And her hair was filled with silver hair clips, enough that she thinks if she walked through a metal detector, it would start screeching. There’s also a little Tamagotchi clipped to one of the belt loops – she hopes this is the actual vibe, or she’s going to feel like an idiot. She is a little confused by the lighting, though. 

“Be safe!” The driver told her, waving, “Remember to use protection!” 

Y/N gave a shocked giggle as she left the backseat – she had not been expecting that for sure. It was sort of presumptuous of her to think that Y/N was going to be fucking, but she is a young woman going to a club, so – fair enough. She thanked her, closed the door, and then walked up to the bouncer. It was 20 quid at the door, which Niall hadn’t mentioned, but she figured that with as many advertisements as they have and their current social media presence, they needed to recoup some, somehow. 

When she walked in. . .well, she was a little confused. Y/N seemed to be the only person who took the theme seriously, which automatically makes her want to crawl under a rock. It’s a little smoky here, like they had a fog machine somewhere, almost, but she had a feeling that it was just a lot of vapes, cigarettes, and weed – her lungs would definitely be upset with her after this. The air felt heavy and warm except for a few spaces where the air conditioner was blowing hard, and she could tell there were more clusters of people hovering around. There are more sitting areas than she’d anticipated, and the music is not as electronic as she was expecting, either. Plus, everyone was moving very. . .horn-ily? Y/N doesn’t know what else to say. People were pressed close, with not a ton of space, and they’re grabbing and holding places that are not super respectful for a first meet, and unless all of these people know each other, she’s imagining that some of these people are strangers. 

And Y/N doesn’t slutshame! She just had no idea that this was the vibe here – J.J. did not mention that this was so sex driven. She would have definitely prepared herself a little more mentally (and physically, too, hell) if she knew that was the main objective of this place. Y/N’s squinting, searching for her friends, and reaching into her purse to find her phone to let them know she was here. 

When she was looking down at her phone, she accidentally knocked into someone. Hard enough that she nearly stumbled back, a gasp leaving her mouth when she felt someone grip around her waist to steady her, “Whoa, whoa!” The voice reached her, and Y/N looked up from her phone to the guy who caught her before she made more of a spectacle, “You alright?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” she righted herself, standing up straighter, and his hands fell away from her. The man before her looks sort of familiar, but she wouldn’t be able to place him if she tried. Maybe he just had one of those faces, honestly. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

“I could tell,” he chuckled, reaching a hand to comb through his hair – in the lighting she couldn’t tell what color it was, but it was dark. He’s in a tank top, but in a fashion way, over a douche-y frat guy way, she thinks. Y/N is suspicious of the sunglasses that he has, pushing his hair from his face, but he has an earring that dangles from his left ear that catches in the glimmering neon sign. He’s cute, and if she were in a situation, she better understood she might think he was cuter, but she’s a little disoriented right now. His gaze comes up and down her body without even bothering to hide it. “Are you here alone?” 

Y/N blinked, “Oh, um –” 

“There you are, baby.” More hands slip around her belly, the sliver of skin from where her shirt rides up, only this voice she knows quite well at this point, “You’re late.” 

When she tilted her head to look up at him, he was already looking at her, a soft but exasperated smile with a gentle huff, shaking his head, and there was something in his gaze that said play along,  “You need to watch where you walk, Sweet girl.” Then his arms squeezed around her a little tighter. This is as close as she’d been to him since he’d held her at knife point in an alleyway. She thinks she should be somewhere in a sympathetic response, all things considered, but she melts into him instead. Harry feels so broad like this, and she can feel his chest through whatever he’s wearing, 

The guy doesn’t walk away at first, looking at the two of them curiously, “Hm. Is she a puppy?” 

Harry’s hand, feathery, snakes up to her throat. He drags the pad of his thumb across her thudding pulse, and Y/N’s brain completely blanks, “She’s more of my kitty,” he presses down a little, her eyelids flutter – what the fuck is happening, “But she’s too shy to be collared in public.” 

“Hmm,” the man hums, “You should get her a necklace then, to ease into it.” 

“Ahhh! You’re so smart,” he taps her, “Isn’t he smart?” 

Y/N nods, at least being able to respond when prompted, “Yes,” she answers, blinking, probably looking like he’d cleaned out all the thoughts in her brain because he did – there was nothing left to knock around in there, “So smart.” 

The guy chuckles, holding out his hand to shake, and Harry meets it first, gently, then Y/N. His grip is firm, and his rings are still cold, pressed to her sweaty palms. “I go by Ben,” he replied, “Are you and your kitty up for a third for a night? I wouldn’t mind helping you train her.” 

What the fuck is going on?!! 

Harry laughs, presses his cheek into the top of her head, “Hmm, that’s really a nice offer, but we’re still quite shy – this is our first time. Maybe next time?” 

Ben is thankfully (or maybe she isn’t thankful – what the hell, she doesn’t know), Ben takes it well, “Of course,” he nods, “I come on most Fridays, if you ever change your mind. Have a good time, yeah? Be safe.” 

He touches them both lightly, then heads in the direction opposite to them. Harry doesn’t take his arms from around her, waddling them deeper inside the club. “Just come with me, okay, kitty?” He murmurs close to her ear, and Y/N nods, resting her arms over his arms and letting him lead her. She should probably yank away. Honestly, she probably should have pulled away the moment that he started whatever role-playing scheme she had somehow gotten caught in.

But instead, for whatever reason, she just goes with him. There’s a large, open archway that leads to a hallway that’s a little darker, but still a muted red-ish pink. A ton of doors line either side – it almost looks like one of those backroom edits, but Harry seems to know that one three down and to the left is empty. At least he opens the door pretty confidently, twisting the knob and shoving it without a second thought. He ushers her inside before they finally separate, and she feels far colder than she had. The heat immediately left, and Y/N is left shivering, frowning a little. 

The room is nice. It’s a little small, but she guesses that a sex club doesn’t necessarily need a luxury master bedroom to fuck in. Still, the walls are a velvet blue, and the red lighting is finally exchanged for something warm and yellow – string lantern lights and lamps that bring this nice, comforting glow. The bed is on the wall perpendicular to the one with the door, neatly made with light colored sheets, which might be both a blessing and a curse (she’d love to use a blacklight on that, and the walls, that must be horrible to try and clean). There’s a small loveseat adjacent to the bed, a small coffee table, and beneath the table top, there’s what seems to be different whips and cuffs. A few random art pieces are on the wall, all varying sensual pieces – how could a blob of colors be sensual, she doesn’t know, but she’s just catching a vibe from it. 

“Sweetheart, I’m going to ask something, and I don’t want you to be offended,” Harry finally began, and Y/N turned to him, where he was standing in front of the table, looking concerned. Her brows dip, and the frown that had been on her mouth pulls just a little deeper on her cheeks, “Are you following me?” 

Y/N blinked at him. Her brain, which had finally started working again, starts to short-circuit again, “What? Excuse me?” 

“It’s just – I see you everywhere, and most of those things I can kind of explain away – especially since I had access to your internet. Well, technically I still do –” he runs his fingers through his hair, “But I know for a fact that this sort of scene is not for you at all. You’ve shown no interest in a BDSM club, and I don’t think you’d just randomly hook up with someone here either.” He shook his head, “If you’re following me, sweetheart, I don’t mind it, but I’d rather you just ask me if where I’m headed is work-related, because I don’t want you to get caught up in something dangerous again. Like with –” 

“Okay, wait, wait, wait!” Y/N put her hands up, “Why would I be following you around? What would that do for me? Jesus Christ, Harry,” she huffed, “I haven’t been following you, I’ve been wondering if you were following me. I’ve been going to the places we run into each other for years now! And I promise you the last thing I want is to get mixed up in all of the – whatever it is, since the first time I did, I was almost killed.” Harry grimaces at that, like the memory is just as horrible as being held at knifepoint, “Plus, if I were some mastermind, wouldn’t you know that already? You’ve got access to all of my shit.” 

Harry considers it, nodding a little, “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. But still,” he searches her face, “Why are you here? This really doesn’t seem like your thing. And you aren’t necessarily dressed for it.” 

She is still frowning, pointing outside, “I’m meeting up with my friends. But I have a feeling that Ni sent me the wrong address,” she pulls out her phone, pulling up their message thread and flipping it over, “See?” 

Harry’s eyes darted across the screen, then he pouted his mouth, “Ah, I see –” he pointed in the vague direction of outside, “The themed club is a few spots down.” 

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, flipping her phone back around and replying to a slightly panicking Niall and Aki, who are wondering where she is. She tells them that she just went into the wrong place and that she’d be on her way in a minute, before slipping her phone back into her purse, “So that’s my explanation. What are you doing here?” 

He scratches the back of his neck, “Ah, well – that guy you and I bumped into? He’s got a link to ‘pet food man’,” he explains, and Y/N realizes then why he’d looked so familiar. When she’d done a hate stalk of the pet food guy post being stood up, this dude must have been in a lot of photos with him. At least enough that she could recognize him a little, seeing him in the low, red lighting of a club, “I rented this room in particular because he was using the room next door, but I stepped out for a drink once I realized he was really just in there to fuck. When I was at the bar, I saw you bump into him and – yeah. Sorry about all that, I was just. . .I was worried that he might try to sleep with you.” 

Y/N knuckles at her eyes – the night hadn’t even officially started for her, and she was more than ready to go home. A hot bath, Muffy eyeing her warily from the edge of the tub, and the promise of her bed just a couple of meters away seemed really nice right now. “So that’s why we were LARP-ing a kinky couple?” 

“Yes, exactly. Plus, if he realized who you were, he might start getting suspicious and. . .yeah, I just don’t want you mixed up in this at all,” he takes a step closer, looking guilty, “I’m sorry for accusing you of following me. I really had no place.” He reached out and readjusted the straps of the tank top she had on beneath her off-shoulder t-shirt, fixing them so they weren’t folded in on themselves. It feels nice, his fingers beneath the fabric along her shoulders. “But, for the record, if you were following me, I really wouldn’t mind! It’s mostly safety reasons that would have me concerned, you know?” 

Laughing, Y/N nods, “I get it, I’d – I mean, I’ve been wondering the same for you. Our circumstances are just weird.” Then she points toward the door, “I really should go to the right club, though, before Niall and Aki have a panic attack.” 

“Let me take you, I know exactly where it’s at.” 

Y/N finally looks at what he’s wearing now that everything has been settled. She thinks that only he could make a plain white shirt and jeans look almost sultry enough for a sex club. The shirt itself wasn’t all that fitted, but his chest was so big that it almost made it pretty tight around the area. And for some reason, the watch on his wrist was doing something for her, but she blames that on whatever must be getting pumped through the vents here. Like an aphrodisiac or something, to get people wanting to fuck. 

“Um, not to be annoying, but to avoid suspicion, I probably need to be on top of you again,” he suggests before they open the door, “If you don’t mind, that is. But – uh – if he, for whatever reason, knows who you are because of the pet food man, I just have this bad feeling that he might try and. . .lure you in, or something. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid.” 

If the assassin is paranoid, Y/N is going to take it to heart. The pet food guy had messaged her a while ago, and she had simply never responded, all things considered. She’d even asked Harry if he wanted her to respond in the name of his investigation or whatever, but he told her absolutely not. Y/N isn’t sure what Mr. “I go by Ben” could do by wanting to fuck her, or get involved with her and Harry, but she’d like to avoid it, she thinks. 

She grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist before twisting around and melting back into him. There are worse places to be, definitely, and the way he morphs around her body is so natural, it’s almost like he’s done it a thousand times before. 

“Just follow my lead again, kitty,” he murmured softly, “You did so well last time.” 

The praise shouldn’t go to her head (or her pussy), but it does, and she blames the little sliver of arousal burning low in her belly on, again, them pumping something through the vents. Instead of acknowledging this, or how her heart is racing, or the way she’s kind of dizzy when she realizes, once again, how good he smells – she says, “Meow.” It made him laugh, and then he opened the door. 

Exiting isn’t difficult, though they do pass Ben again, who gives them a little nod as they leave. They don’t peel off each other until they’re further away, and even then, Harry stays close, a hand gripped around her bicep as he squeezes her arm. “You usually don’t show up at places on your own like this,” Harry noted, “There’s safety in numbers, you know?” 

“I know,” the weather isn’t horrible tonight, relatively warm for what it has been, so she doesn’t feel like she’s shivering out of her bones for the first time in forever, “I was helping my neighbor, so I had to come a little late.” 

Harry hums, “The one on the left? The girl with the bunny? Did Oliver get stuck under the dresser again?” 

“No, it was the one on the right – Mikey,” he squeezes her arm again, as they’re walking up to the door to the bouncer, and he slips out his wallet and takes two bills out to pay. Y/N starts to go to grab her wallet so she can immediately pay him back, but he shakes his head and uses his free hand to remove her purse from her hands, and holds it instead. Y/N, at this point, knows better than to argue with him and just lets it go. “He needed help with his TV. He’s bad with drills.” 

Before Harry could respond, as soon as they stepped into the club, she was almost instantly jumped, “God, where were you?” Niall’s hands grabbed her shoulders, “I was about to send Aki to go hunting!” 

“You look good,” Aki pulls at the bottom of her shorts a little, her fingers sneaking up beneath the denim, “Gorgeous. Who is the straggler you picked up?”

“Oh! Um, this – this is Harry,” she introduced Aki, who had only known him in name alone, and Niall’s borderline perverted description of him (“He was wearing jeans when I met him, so I was catching print, and it was flat Aki, I think he’s a size D for sure.”) “The Lyft dropped me off at the wrong place, I think, or you sent me the wrong address. I haven’t dug deep enough to figure out who was at fault,” she nudged Harry with her hip, “But he saved me, so it’s okay.” 

Aki, who clearly was at least one drink and maybe a shot in, drops her mouth open, “Oh my goddd,” she gasps, “You’re the level D.” 

Harry tilted his head, smiling, “I don’t know what that means,” he raised his hand, “But I’m Harry! It’s nice to meet you – you’re Aki, right?” 

Aki grins, meeting his hand and shaking once, “Yes, yes, yes, that’s me. Did Y/N tell you about that time we kissed a year ago?” 

His eyes widened, mouth falling open as he looked to Y/N and then to Aki, “Uh – no, she hasn’t yet.” 

“Well, she loves to kiss, fun fact, if you ask her, then she will. All you have to do is ask! She likes it when you bite –” 

“Enough!” Y/N places her hand on either side of Aki’s shoulders and presses her backward, encouraging her to walk, “Let’s go sit or something.” 

“I’ve kissed her, too, a couple of times if you were wondering. It really is just as easy as asking,” Niall told him gleefully, “Come on, Harry, we’ve got plenty of space for you.” 

                                                                          .               .              .

Harry drives them all home. 

First, he drops off Aki. He walks her up to her flat while she and Niall stay in the car, and almost as soon as he disappears from their line of sight, Niall leans forward to stuff his head between the driver and passenger seat. Y/N was on the passenger side, minding her business on her phone, while Niall popped open the middle console. “Should we dig through his shit?” He inquired, but he had already decided what he was going to be doing. Y/N’s heart rate immediately skyrocketed because she immediately assumed that Niall would be finding a gun or something. The gun, thankfully, is not in the middle console where Niall is searching – instead, they find sunglasses, tissues, a couple of spare dollars, and hand sanitizer. One thing that’s a little sketchy is that he has two tampons and two pads tucked neatly in an underneath compartment, but it’s alongside ibuprofen, motion sickness glasses, lotion, and Zyrtec, like a small, driven pharmacy. 

“Oh, wow, what the fuck,” Niall thumbed through it all, “You guys might be perfect for each other, these are your brand of tampon and pads and everything.” He closed it, “Look in the glove compartment.” 

That’s almost painfully normal, too. His car manual, insurance cards, all the shit you get after your car gets inspected. There are a lot of coupons, too, a couple of receipts, and like four punch cards to different places (the boba place near Muffy’s vet, a frozen yogurt spot, a cafe, and what looks like a bakery card), and that’s about it. Y/N thinks he either brought his normal person car and he has a second one, or there’s a secret compartment or something with everything else. 

Niall sighs, “Okay, all we learned is that he is thoughtful and a loyal customer. Does he volunteer at an animal shelter, too, or –” Just as he brings it up, Y/N reaches in and finds a lanyard with his name, a badge, the name of their city’s humane society, and his picture with the label VOLUNTEER. “You’re joking.” 

They scramble to put everything back when they see him appear in the front doors. Their phone buzzes, and Aki has sent a picture of herself on her sofa, with a granola halfway in her mouth and a message: 

Hey, big dick is really nice, Y/N, I love ur new boyfie 

Harry gets back into his car, “Okay,” he buckles back up, and shifts his car into drive, “Let's get you home, Ni. Do you need to stop anywhere before we go?” 

“Noooo,” Ni pokes Y/N’s shoulder, “Hey, can we have a sleepover with Aki soon? I wanna do cute shit.” 

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed easily, only realizing then that she was still holding one of Harry’s punch cards in her hand. She slipped it under her thigh, hoping to leave it on the seat, and maybe Harry would think he’d just accidentally left it out, or something. He probably wouldn’t think that, but he’s also too nice to question her, so it would work out. “We can give each other light back tickles.” 

“Yes. . .Harry, do you have any experience with light back tickling?” Niall inquired, because he’s Niall, and he’s nothing if not a master wing man with the devastatingly good ability to be inclusive in all things. 

Harry, who is just so willing to go along with any conversation and anything in general (like when Aki said that whoever had the biggest hands had to go buy them a round of drinks, and he stood up without even a whisper of a whine or complaint), told them, “I have a lot of experience. My sister used to make me rub her arm for hours at a time, and in exchange, she’d let me hook the PlayStation up to the telly in her room so I could play scary games.” He wiggled the fingers on the wheel, “I’m a tickling master though.” 

“That’s so perfect, because Y/N had an ex once who never petted her ever,” Niall laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, “Which is so sad, it’s like ignoring a kitten at your feet. He was the worst.” 

“Ni, please never speak again.” 

Harry makes a disgruntled sound in her throat, “That’s horrible. I think petting someone is like the best part of any relationship, right? To pet and be petted. We’re all animals at the end of the day, wanting affection.” 

Niall squeezes her shoulder, “That’s what I think too. Well, anyway, make this left up here if you want to take a shortcut.” 

Once they’re dropping Niall off, Harry offers to walk him up to his flat, and Y/N prays that Niall says no. There was zero reason for them to have any amount of time alone, lest Niall start divulging all of Y/N’s deepest, darkest kinks in an effort to get things going. Especially when she spots a borderline evil smile stretching across his mouth. She tries to quickly think of any excuse she could that would make Harry stay in the car and have Niall fend for himself, but she doesn’t have to, “Nah, I can fend for myself. And I can’t be trusted with any sort of brain-to-mouth filter when I’m tipsy. Who knows what I would have started sharing?” He leaned in and smushed a kiss against Y/N’s temple, “Byeeee!” 

They stay in the parking lot until Niall sends a picture of himself in his flat.

Don’t do anything too crazy tonight, but if u do, take measurements

“Alright,” he hums softly, “Let’s get you home, Sweetheart.” 

The drive is nice and smooth – Harry is a really good driver. She doesn’t give him enough credit for it; the couple of times she’s been in the car with him, she hasn’t gotten to really pay attention to it. This is the longest she’s been in the car with him, though, and the way he operates a motor vehicle is hot as hell, honestly, the more she thinks about it. She would be willing to sit in the car with him all day, whether it was going from place to place running errands, or on a road trip of some kind. 

“Do you want to come upstairs and see Muffy?” Y/N asks, and Harry gasps. 

“I thought that was a given,” he held a hand to his chest, “Do you think I’d ever say no to seeing my baby?” 

Y/N is feeling sort of buzzy around the edges, warm. If she and Harry were closer, she’d be employing him to give her back tickles until she fell asleep tonight, but they aren’t. Maybe one day they could be – or maybe that would be weird, all things considered. Y/N isn’t sure what the appropriate relationship to have with Harry is, since it seems like they’ll be in each other’s lives no matter what. Maybe what Niall had been saying about that red string of fate had more validity than she’d originally given it. It did seem like they were running together, twisting, entangling, making it more and more difficult for them to unknot. Like when you’re sewing with a piece of thread that's too long that loops and tightens into the tiniest knot you’ve ever seen – one you can’t get your needle to pierce through, even. 

And there was the fact that he so seamlessly became a good addition to her trio, despite not really planning on being involved. He laughs, and he tells his own jokes, and both Aki and Niall seem to be absolutely smitten with him, which is saying a lot because they absolutely hated her ex. If he wasn’t meant to be in their lives, then how was he able to make it feel like he’d been a part of their group from the very start? To the ease with which he joins banter, to how happy he seems to be involved, and how he’s so engaged with the conversation. He’s asking questions and remembering things that they had said earlier in passing, or things that Y/N has said (he asked Aki all about her clay making). 

But then there’s the thought that. . .well, that’s sort of his job, isn’t it? Was he fitting in seamlessly because of who he is as a person, or was it because of who he wanted them to think he is? She’d seen how easily he could morph into someone meant to be taking up space where he was, only fifteen minutes before they met up with her friends. Nobody would have questioned for a second if Harry belonged in that sex club – and the ease with which he adapted, acting like they were lovers, shy enough to deny a third, but experimental enough to be there in the first place – it should make her suspicious. Y/N should be more suspicious of him now than she’s ever been. 

She wasn’t, though. For whatever reason, Y/N trusted Harry more than she trusted a man with a hood walking down the street, and Harry was a known hitman – they met because he’d held a knife to her throat! Was she stupid? If she told Niall or Aki any of this, they’d probably shame her, then lock her in a cage, and never let her step foot outside alone again. Since she clearly couldn’t think for herself. 

“We’re hereeee,” he says softly, and Y/N gathered her purse and popped the car door open. She waited for him to get out too before she started ahead of him, and Harry made a little sound in his throat, “Oh, hold on, you’ve got something stuck –” The sound of his footsteps sped up on the pavement, so he’s right behind her, before something is carefully plucked from her thigh. It’s with horror that Y/N realized it was one of his punch cards – the one she’d slipped under her leg so that she could inconspicuously leave it in the seat. “Silly, you forgot to put it back.” 

Y/N turned to look at him, blinking several times at him, “I – um – why do you sound not surprised that I have it?” 

Harry smiled, “You guys went through my stuff, right? When I came back in the car, I set my elbow down on the middle console, and it clicked shut, so I figured you went through the glove compartment too?” 

Her face feels hot, twisting to face forward again, “Um, well – uh –” 

“It’s okay! Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind. It kind of seemed like Niall’s speed anyway,” he shrugged. 

“But what if we had found like – like, y’know. . .your stash of stuff? Like guns and – and ties and –” 

Harry chuckled, scrunching his nose, “Ohh, stuff like that I keep underneath my seat,” he pointed behind them, “ I can lift it, and there’s a compartment beneath it for all that.” 

“Oh,” Y/N swallowed thickly, punching in the code to their main lobby, “Sorry though, for like – doing that still.” 

“I really don’t have anything to hide from you,” he said, “It’s nice, actually, since the big thing is kind of out in the open, it feels like I can be myself. Y’know?” 

The list of things Y/N had never experienced in a man just gets longer and longer the more time she spends with Harry. He didn’t mind if she went through his things, he’d very comfortably typed in his phone password right in her line of sight, and if she inquired about his job then he answered her questions right away, with zero hesitation and almost brutal honesty. Not even three hours ago, he had been entirely too accepting of her stalking him so long as she wasn’t following him anywhere dangerous. Enough that he had said it twice! Y/N thinks she could probably show up at his flat without having ever been invited and having zero reason to know where he lived, and Harry would accept her inside with open arms. He’d probably even offer her tea and dinner or something. 

Once they open the door, they’re greeted by Muffy, who must have heard her messing with the lock. She laced between Y/N’s ankles first before toddling up to Harry, who plucked her up and brought her to his chest immediately, “Hi, pretty girl,” he hummed sweetly, leaned in, and nuzzled into the side of her body, “You smell so good – like the bigger kitty.” 

Y/N’s face gets hot when he mentions it again, leading them into the living room, “Shut up,” she murmured, “You’re annoying.” 

“Awww, what?” He followed deeper inside, but he’d walked this pathway so many times, Y/N thinks he even knew where the floorboards creaked, “You played your part so well, I would’ve thought you’d done it before. Maybe you are a kitty.” 

Y/N, who had let her purse slip off her shoulder and drop to the floor with a thud beside the coffee table. She twisted around, eyes narrowed, and pointed at him, “Hey! I barely even spoke; you were way too equipped to play the part of whatever the heck you were doing. You’ve definitely done that before!” 

He smiled, a dimpled cheek, “Well, yeah,” he told her, “I have.” 

She paused, still pointing, “Oh, you – you have?” He nodded, and maybe a sober Y/N wouldn’t be so nosy, but a Y/N with a couple of drinks in her gets possessed by a Niall-shaped demon, “Wait, what? How so?” 

Harry tilted his head, “What do you mean, how so?” 

“Like with who and what were you doing?” 

He held a hand to his chest again, in that ‘old southern woman who is appalled’ way that he likes to, and she’s seen it happen several times that night, “That’s not very appropriate to talk about with a lady.” 

Y/N stared at him, brows dipped, “A lady? You were practically choking me and saying I was a sex cat less than three hours ago!” 

“I was playing a part!” He answered, placing his hand on his chest over Muffy’s ear, “And there’s a baby here, we shouldn’t pollute her ears with it.” 

“So what, were you like pulling them around on a leash or something?” 

“Y/N!” 

“I just want to know!”

“Yeah, I’m picking that up,” he replied, “But why? Is it really that important?” 

Y/N doesn’t know. She’s blaming this on the liquor and also Niall polluting her mind with the notion that if a man is in your house, you deserve to know every single aspect of his life and then some. She thinks that’s only if you’re dating, though, probably, and having sex – if they were, Y/N would expect to know every minute detail. But they weren’t – honestly, Y/N doesn’t even know if he considers them friends. Are they? Maybe not. Y/N isn’t sure what they are, but friends doesn’t seem right – neither does acquaintances. 

She couldn’t explain why she wanted to know; she just knew that she did. Now that the image was in her head and with what had transpired that night, Y/N needed to know immediately why Harry was able to fall into that dynamic so easily. Even if it was brief, and even if they didn’t need to go that deeply into it. Y/N thinks that if they had to do a scene or something in front of Ben, then he would have enacted it flawlessly. And then the picture of her on her knees in front of him on her hands and knees starts to haunt her, and she just needs to know, okay? A few cocktails crossed her blood-brain barrier, and suddenly every question she’s ever had needed to be answered right now. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, shrugging in an effort to seem nonchalant but actually being very much the opposite, “Like – friends talk about this stuff, right?” Saying friends even seemed weird on her tongue, and her body feels warm, flushed from alcohol and the embarrassment of Harry even looking at her right now when she was floundering. She isn’t looking at him, instead pretending that there was a stain on her shirt that she was suddenly hyperfixating on. 

Harry said, probably the worst thing he could have said. 

“We’re friends?” 

So, she is actually refusing to look at his face at this point. And she’s not drunk enough to not remember this so it will haunt her in the morning, but she is drunk enough for tears to threaten the back of her eyelids almost instantly as she mutters, “Um, nevermind, I’m just g’na go take a bath,” before turning on her heel, “Just  – uh, see you later.” 

But Harry doesn’t let her get away with it that easily. “Wait!” His voice was a little loud as he looped around her, intercepting her route, still clutching Muffy to his chest, “Wait, Y/N, I didn’t mean it in a shitty way! I was genuinely asking!” 

“Okay, well, now I’m embarrassed,” she answered a little too honestly, and the tears were coming whether she wanted them to or not, so she held a hand over her face, “You’re not allowed to look at me right now, or it’ll be more embarrassing, so you have to go.” 

Harry is usually pretty good at listening, but this time he isn’t. He carefully placed his fingers on her wrist and pressed down, moving her hand away from her face and revealing her watering eyes. She doesn’t even know why she was about to cry – it was stupid. First, she tried pressuring him into explaining the clear pet play dynamic he had with a relationship in the past, and then she suggested they were friends, and he questioned her, and vodka cranberries always made her a little quicker to get teary over anything, especially if she was embarrassed. And right now she was embarrassed. It wasn’t Niall who couldn’t be trusted alone with Harry, it was her. 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, it came off differently than I intended,” he offered, “I was just wondering, that's all. I kind of thought of us as friends, but with our situation, I didn’t know if you thought of us as friends, y’know? But I honestly see and spend more time with you than I do with any of my other friends.” His fingers stayed on her wrist, looping around it gently, “I just wanted to confirm. It makes me happy that you see us like that, instead of me being the weird, creepy stalker that got you mixed up in rich people bullshit. Please don’t cry, or honestly, I might start – I’m sort of a sympathy crier.” 

“Crying, who’s crying?” Y/N asked, clearly moments from tears, “You are a weird, creepy stalker,” she sniffled, and Harry giggled, squeezing around her wrist, “But yeah, I think – I don’t know, I think we’re friends. Niall definitely thinks he’s your friend at this point – Aki, too. It takes one good drinking experience and a drive home before you’re locked in as one of their pals.” 

Harry stayed for a little while after that. At least until Y/N has drunk two glasses of water and preemptively taken a paracetamol, and pinky swore she won’t fall asleep in the bathtub, before he finally made his departure. Muffy watched him leave at the door, and it almost made Y/N cry again, and she realized, once more, that she was a little drunker than she originally thought and intended to be. 

She feels tired, but she still makes herself get in the bathtub. Y/N filled it high with bubbles and oils, then sloshed around in there for a while, while Muffy – as per usual – hovered from a spot on the corner of the tub and watched her carefully. Every so often, she’d bat the foam of bubbles, and Y/N would scoop and place it in front of her. Besides that, Y/N scrubbed some of the bar sent off of her and slowly, but surely, sobered enough that she was re-embarrassed by almost crying in front of Harry and actively replaying how it felt to be pressed up against him, with him kissing her head and pretending they were a BDSM couple. It’s a haunting mix of humiliation and desire that’s ruthlessly making her horny, so she tried to ignore it. 

Alas, she couldn’t. After toweling off and shoving herself into a big shirt, she pulls out her phone and gets an incognito tab. It isn’t like she’d never seen it before; there’d been posts and stuff online, smut she’s read with it, fanart she’s seen drawn of it – she doesn’t think she’d ever seen an actual video of it before. So she’s curious, what it would actually look like, and if she is doing this with the intent to imagine Harry in the place of the man and her in the place of the woman, then that’s her business. 

Because at the end of the day, Harry is very attractive. He’s attractive and nice, and he just doesn’t put off nearly as many bad vibes as he should, given the context in which they’ve met. Plus, he looked sexy driving, and his watch was hot on his wrist, and it made her want to hump his hand – she doesn’t know, maybe thinking all of this is crazy, but she’s ovulating probably, so. . .sue her. 

The couple she finds seems to have another page with non-free content, but she doesn’t fall into that wormhole, so she just clicks through their 3-minute previews. They were fully committed, actually, collar, leash, and all – but Y/N found that it isn’t necessarily the aspect that she was interested in. Pet play was all fine and good, but she thinks she just liked the condescending tone and the humiliation that probably came with it, walking on all fours, acting like an animal. 

So then she finds other profiles. A lesbian couple where one of the women in the video had rules that she couldn’t touch herself, but she did, and subsequently got punished for it. A gay couple where one of the men was tied in pretty, purple silk rope in a way so lewd that Y/N’s mouth had fallen open (and she pulsed around nothing). There was a throuple that had one member sitting on the floor, helplessly rubbing his face against their legs, begging for attention that they were keen on withholding. 

Y/N wasn’t even masturbating – it felt like she was researching for a project or something. She’s maybe on her 10th or 12th video when a message from Harry pops up at the top of her screen. 

Are you still interested in what you asked before? 

About how I acted it out so well? 

It took her a second to register that Harry had not only messaged her but asked what he did, that she was staring blankly at her phone, and was almost checking out for a second. Her brain helplessly clicked its gears for her to respond before she finally paused the video and swiped out of the tab, going to their message thread and opening it up. 

Well, yeah I am 

I give him a lot of shit but I am just Niall, at the end of the day 

The three dots pop up immediately. 

okay, but you have to promise to answer a question of mine too, but you can’t ask a question about my question 

Okayyyyy

Sketch but i wanna know 

Harry takes a moment to respond, but the dots are there on the screen, so she knew it was only because he was typing. She could swipe back into the porn tab, but she quickly convinced herself that, if he wasn’t already tapped into her phone before, messaging her somehow would give him a direct gateway to what she was looking at. Or, she imagined Muffy stomping over her phone, then copying and pasting the link of the video and sending it to Harry, all with her teensy little paw pads. So instead, she just stared at the screen and waited patiently, her heart starting to kick a little faster against her chest. 

sooo, it was a couple years ago but i used to be in this like pretty intense dom/sub arrangement where we sort of let it bleed into our real lives, and it wasn’t master/pet or anything but it really wasn’t all that spectacular or crazy, but we did have a list of rules and they did get punished if they didn’t follow them. . .stuff like that 

idk if you were expecting something like spectacular and insane, but that’s all there is to it really

i guess i don’t come off as someone who is into that though since you seemed kind of surprised  

Y/N’s fingers moved before she could really think. 

Like what sort of punishments? 

Asking in the spirit of friendship, of course. 

Her heart is full-blown thundering now, when Harry replied.

y’know like usual stuff

spanking, edging, overstim, understim

things like that 

Oh wow, okay 

Thank you for telling me all of that. I was really curious

Y/N’s palms felt sweaty as she held her phone in a tight grip, afraid it would slip and hit her in the chest. She felt short of breath and antsy, like she needed to stick her hand down her pants, but also go to bed immediately because once she actually gets off thinking about Harry, she’s done for. “The first nut dedicated to them is the nut of impending hyperfixation,” is what Aki had said once, and Y/N agreed that it could not be good. Unless she was on the direct route to have sex with the person, she had to keep her hands to herself. 

I'm glad to satisfy your curiosity

So now you don’t have to look up porn about it

Her face lights aflame, looking around her room hastily, as if Harry would suddenly be standing beside her or something. Then she remembered that he had access to her phone, and her thumbs tapped against the screen to exit out of the tab, then go back into their messages. 

Heyyyyy, I thought you weren’t looking at my phone anymore!! Jerk!!! 

sorrryyy, i didnt realize i still get notifs when u open an incognito tab 

:( 

Aww, c’mon, don’t cry about it 

You’re a cute crier though so maybe cry about it a little and send me a picture. In the spirit of friendship, of course.

Y/N immediately opened the camera and frowned at it, making sure Muffy – who was slowly waning in and out of sleep – was in the shot. 

Pretty girl 

Girls *** 

I’m going to ask my question now, okay?

Y/N hearted all three messages then waited for him to answer. 

Mikey, your neighbor. . .does he invite you over to help him a lot? 

Ummmm not a ton, no 

Just when tools are involved 

Do you ever go to not help? Like to hang out? 

Not really??? We’re friendly, but not that close 

He usually has his boyfriend over anyway. 

Oh! Boyfriend!! 

Well, that’s great! Was just wondering, glad you can help your neighbor :)) 

You should drink one more glass of water before going to bed

Ugh, but I’ve been peeing like every five minutes from the first two

The more pee the better, keep it up! 

Sweet dreams!! 

Y/N flopped her phone face down on the mattress. She isn’t sure what he cared about Mikey for, but knowing Harry, it was probably some long, convoluted background that he somehow shared with the uncle’s, sister’s, cousin of Mikey, knowing the pet food guy. She’s still sort of caught up in the fact that not only did Harry tell her what his old BDSM-y relationship entailed, but let her know that he knew she was looking at porn, and on top of that, called her a cute crier and then called her pretty when she sent a pic. That was a lot to handle – if she told Niall and Aki any of this (sans the incognito mode tidbit), then they would both spontaneously combust, she’s sure of it.  

She buried her face into her pillow and squealed. 

What the hell was going on right now? 

                                                      .                               .                           . 

Y/N was a little scared.  

In any other time of her life, she wouldn’t have been, because there wouldn’t have been a reason to be. Seeing some guy she was supposed to go on a blind date with that stood her up would have made her angry rather than frightened. Her teeth would grit together, she’d dance with the idea of calling him something derogatory or being the bigger person, and end up stalking off, thinking about beating his ass. Then she’d recount the story to Niall on the phone in dramatic detail, who would recount it in even more theatrical detail to Aki later on when Y/N had finally let it go a little bit. 

But this time she was scared, yeah. Mostly because she didn’t really recognize him when he walked up to her. She was at the mall. Y/N liked to go, sometimes, if she had a free day with no other plans and nobody to shop with. She used to think it was sad to go alone, but it was relatively cathartic being able to float around aimlessly, walking in and out of stores that she wanted, leaving when she didn’t want to be in there. The only thing that sucked was if she wanted to try something on and was unsure about it, there was nobody to bounce ideas off of, and she was nowhere near outgoing enough to ask one of the staff. 

So, this Saturday, she’d planned a little mall day. She’d gotten a mani/pedi that morning, as soon as the place by her flat opened to beat that afternoon rush of all the walk-ins and scheduled appointments. She wore sandals today, for the first time of the year, since the weather was nice and her feet looked well-cared for rather than the reptilian-like appearance they take if she takes too long to get them done. There was nothing fancy about her outfit, just a t-shirt and shorts, but the sun felt good on her skin even in the brief moments she was outside, so she wasn’t overly concerned with what she looked like. 

Y/N had been to three stores already and had gotten a good amount at each. Each hand had two bags each in it that she’d been swinging around at her side while she debated if she wanted to go into the candle store and obnoxiously sniff all of the scents, until she needed coffee beans to clear out her nose. She’d already spent like 80 quid, and while the financially responsible side of her thinks that she should stop there, the less clever side thinks that she might as well round it up to 100.  

She had just decided that she was going in when she’d been stopped beside the massage chairs. 

Y/N has only been stopped a handful of times in her life by strangers. Once, it was because she favored someone’s cousin, whom they had been waiting for at the park, and then had Y/N stay so they could meet (they did look quite similar). There was a second time somebody had asked her where the nearest bus station was, a heavy accent that she had never been able to place, but she walked them to the subway (and told them to use the translator app if speaking their language was more comfortable – and then she learned the Polish way to say thank you). And then the third time was because her shoe was untied, and a very nice (albeit very drunk) older woman placed her hand on Y/N’s shoulder to grab her attention, pierced her bicep with fake, pointy nails, and told her, “You’ll trip like that, Hon, you need to tie ‘em. “

It doesn’t happen often, though. Y/N isn’t sure why – maybe she doesn’t look very friendly, she always thought, but Niall told her that was not the case at all. In university,  he did his thesis on the social interactions of modern young adults and realized that it was disordered and complicated. Going up to someone to strike up a chat rarely inspired confidence in making a new friend, and instead made most people’s hackles rise. Immediately guarded, worried, and wondering what their next move would be, and if it might involve hurting them. That used to be the only way to make friends, to amble up to them while you 

So, understandably, when it happens at the mall, Y/N is instantly paranoid, especially with everything that was going on. She gasps when their hand reaches out to rest on her shoulder, and she jerks away, only to be met with a soft chuckle, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” and that is not the voice she’s used to hearing those words from.  Where she should be turning around to see Harry, all sweet and smiling at her with two dimpled cheeks, she instead sees the pet food man (who she knew was named Finley, at this point, but just simply didn’t deserve to be referred to by anything other than his job description). 

Y/N blinked – she looked him up and down and noted that he was in a suit at the mall, and this was not wealthy enough of a mall for him to be wearing a suit here, of all things, “Oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” he said, in a way that didn’t seem sorry at all, but she might just dislike him so everything he does is going to be horrible and annoying, “I just – you look very familiar.” 

“I hear that every so often,” she replied, “But I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for.” She rolled her shoulder in an effort to get him off of her. 

“Ah, you might be, though,” he held out his hand, “I think we were supposed to go on a blind date together?”        

Y/N paused. She knew why, she knew what he looked like, but she didn’t know how he could have known what she looked like. It made her skin crawl a little – she isn’t even sure why, or what he’s doing that’s so sketchy, it’s just the fact that it is, and the fact that Harry so adamantly dislikes him is enough for her. Plus, the suit at the mall, and the way his smile doesn’t reach his eyes very well.  She can tell that he’s someone who pretends to smile a lot. 

Still, even with the fear that tickles the back of her brain, she nodded, “Yeah, I think we were. Before you stood me up, that is.”

His eyes widened like he hadn’t been expecting her to bring it up, and honestly, Y/N hadn’t been expecting herself to bring it up either. Niall and Aki would be proud of her, she knew that at least, but Harry would probably grumble at her. It was silly to engage, he would tell her, that he’s a dangerous man capable of doing dangerous things, even though he just runs a pet food company. The best thing would have been to politely decline that she was anyone he could possibly know, then head off in the opposite direction. 

Instead, she stands before him, trying to look unwavering, “I need to go,” she told him, clearing her throat, “Have a good day.” 

He should leave her alone, but he doesn’t – of course, he doesn’t. When she tried to walk away again, he stopped her once more, “Please, hear me out – something came up,” he told her, sounding a little desperate, “And time just got away from me, so by the time I realized what time it was, it had been far too late for me to show. Then I felt like a dick trying to contact you, but –” 

“Really, I’m not interested, okay? It was very embarrassing and –” I almost got killed because of you, you random jackass! “--and I never want to think about it again, so let’s just call it.” 

It was weird, though, wasn't it? That he had even stopped her in passing in the first place – why would he do that? (And why was he at the mall in general? She thought rich people did most of their shopping online and in those fancy boutiques that only they could afford.) It’d be one thing if they had met before this moment and he had recognized her as she passed, but this was odd. Y/N would never in her life stop a blind date that didn’t even happen, on their way to their next destination, to do what, exactly? She really hadn’t let him get far enough to explain what his purpose for stopping her was. There was just something fishy about the entire thing, and now, ever since Harry, she’s been a lot more wary about the people who surround her, and this guy – Finley – was a major red flag. 

Something prickles at the back of her neck, and she is suddenly very, very grateful to be in the middle of a crowded mall rather than somewhere stuck and alone with him. 

“I just want to make it up to you,” he told her, but Y/N was sliding out her phone from her purse and clicking on Harry’s message thread, typing an all-caps ‘CALL ME’ that she hoped he would see right away, “Seriously, just one coffee! It’d be on me, yeah? To make amends, and –” 

Y/N’s phone began to buzz, vibrating against her palm as she clutched it tight, “I’m already seeing someone else,” she lied easily, “And it wouldn’t be respectful to him.” She slid to answer, placed the phone to her ear, and gave Finley a small nod, before pitching up her voice a bit, “Hey, baby,” she used the pet name, hoping that it would indicate to Harry that something was wrong. Harry may call her baby this, Sweetheart that, but Y/N never used any pet names when she was referring to him, “Are you on your way?” 

“Y/N?” He immediately seemed suspicious – she could hear it in his tone, “Is something the matter?” 

“Yeah,” she answered vaguely, already wandering away from Finley, who, thankfully, hadn’t followed her; however, she did see that he was immediately on his phone, which was also weird. Still, despite the distance she’s putting in between them, Y/N still feels anxious and worried enough not to explain the details too vividly: “Can you come?” 

“Okay, I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me until I get there.” 

It wasn’t the most dangerous situation to be in – again, she was in a very public, crowded mall on a Saturday – but still, her heart thundered in her chest. She felt a little queasy about all of it, squidgy while her bubble tea from earlier sat heavy in her belly. Y/N’s looking around, suddenly feeling very helpless, very hopeless, and wondering if he’s bad enough to have a hitman after him to some degree, then he could be bad enough to have his own hitmen. Should she have acted more chill? What if she pissed him off and now he’s going to send a hit out on her or something? Fuck! How horrible is it that she even has to worry about shit like this? He was the one who stood her up! He was the reason she’d even had a knife to her throat in the first place, even though she somehow, in the most dysfunctional way, made a friendship out of it. 

Harry makes her talk about what she did today. She could tell he was trying to distract her, but it wasn’t really working – Y/N was too hyperaware of all of her surroundings now. For some reason, she keeps imagining him popping up Michael Myers style and slowly but menacingly following her through the mall, and somehow keeping pace with her running while he does a slightly fast pace walk. Still, she tries to tell Harry about the earrings she bought with a matching ankle bracelet, the new skincare, and lip gloss. Even he seemed distracted, though, as he hummed at her, prompting her gently but nowhere near the active listening he’s usually doing when anyone is involved. 

It takes him a little less than 12 minutes to get there. Y/N takes one brief look over her shoulder to see if she could spot him hovering behind a plant or a person. Then she trots a little when she’s going to the front entrance, where Harry idles illegally in the fire lane. The door is already being pressed open, like he didn’t want her to waste even a single bit of time, and only once she’d crawled into the passenger seat does he hang up the phone. 

“What happened, baby? Tell me every little detail.” 

And she does. Now that she tells it back to him, it really didn’t sound all that horrible, but her heart was still racing, and her palms were still sweating like he’d grabbed ahold of her and pushed her down, or said something threatening. She mentioned several times that maybe she was just too in her head about it, and it was actually more normal than it felt. Y/N even momentarily suggested that maybe she was the off-putting one to him, with how frantic she started to get trying to get away. 

Harry nipped that in the bud quickly, “No, you aren’t being dramatic, this is very odd behavior for him. He never goes to the fucking mall – rich fuckers like him, never do.” Y/N nodded, “This whole thing is weird. You were right to call me.” 

“Do you need to go back in?” She pointed toward the mall, “I feel better about going back in if I’m with you, since –

“No,” he denied her immediately, “Not, this is as close to anything as I ever want you to get. And even this was entirely too close,” he shook his head, “Honestly. . .would you be okay if I came over to your flat and stayed for a while? Would you mind?” 

Y/N shook her head, “I would mind more if you left me alone,” she told him, “You can stay for as long as you like.” 

                                                            .                         .                       .

Harry is irritated and feeling soft, and it’s the weirdest combination of feelings that he’s ever had to deal with in his life. 

Irritated for the obvious reason – Y/N doesn’t deserve any of this. He meant it, from the moment he realized that she was not Antonyia, he was so deeply apologetic that he was breaking his own key rules, like giving out his name or letting someone see his face. Both of which he’d done in rapid succession of one another, when most of the time, what he perceives as a target never sees him coming in the first place.  All she’d been doing was going on a date that had been set up by her friend, and she was not only stood up, but then held at knife point in an alleyway because she’d been trying to save a kitten, of all things. It was a horrible case of wrong place at the wrong time, and she had to suffer because of it – it’s not even like she could go to the police about it, namely because he had to threaten her not to. 

So, yeah, Harry feels horrible about it. In a different universe, they would have had the meet-cute of the century. Like in the human society where Harry volunteers on weekends, or at the boba place she seems so fond of (Gladys is starting to like Y/N more, he thinks, and he has a feeling he’s going to have to start fighting for her top spot as favorite customers). He would probably be bewitched by her gentle demeanor, then thrown off by a quick tongue and a sort of bratty mouth, but he’s always been into that, so it would’ve worked fine. He would have asked her on a date, for coffee, or to share a little slice of cake at a bakery. 

Instead, Harry met her in an alleyway, thinking she was someone else, and threatening her for information that she didn’t know. Then he left her with a tiny, stinky kitten after she’d been traumatized because he needed to go find the actual Antoniya, who very clearly must have been tipped off for neither her nor Finley to show up to the restaurant they both separately had reservations at that night. Though he warned her, he had to track her messages, her calls, internet searches and history, and her location. It wasn’t the most ideal way to get to know someone. He really tried to lay off too, after like the first couple of days, he realized that she seemed to be more of the suffer in silence and the ‘pretend like it didn’t happen’ approach, which benefited them. 

It seemed as though fate had wanted their paths to cross, though. If Harry believed in soulmates, even in a platonic sense, then he would think they were something of the sort. How else would it make sense that they literally run into each other everywhere? Harry technically, only officially followed her without her knowing a couple of times. He’d traced her to and from work the first couple of days, and all of this had started. And once he realized quickly that she had no intention of exposing him and blowing up a plan that had been years in the making, he stopped. The fact that they’d run into each other so many times was even starting to get creepy to him, and he was technically the weird stalker of the two. But it seemed like everywhere he turned, she was there as well, almost like she was following him. 

He should be more weirded out by it than he is, but he isn’t. Harry doesn’t mind it – and she’s cute, and gets this silly look on her face every time she sees him when she wasn’t expecting to. It’s this very same look that has convinced Harry, without a shadow of a doubt, that Y/N wasn’t actually following him with some ulterior motive in mind (the only time he got really, really suspicious was the whole sex club ordeal, but that was easily explained away). 

They were just meant to be in each other’s lives, for whatever reason. Harry believes that even if they hadn’t met in the off-kilter way they did, then he and Y/N would have found their way to each other somehow, someway. Their paths were meant to cross, whether it be in an alleyway, at a boba place, in a bowling alley, in a craft store, at the grocery, at a sex club – it was certain, and predetermined, he thinks. It was enough to make him believe in something like soulmates. 

He’d been growing quite fond of her, too, the more they interacted and spoke to one another. Y/N was funnier than he thinks she knows she is, and she’s sweet, and almost way too okay with their dynamic and how they met. Harry thinks he’d be hard-pressed to find someone who would willingly let a known, somewhat stalker accompany them on the rest of their grocery trip, or sit down with them for a boba. He doesn’t think he’d be able to find one who was willing to let him come into her flat at all, and have total faith and trust in what he says. Because Harry always means what he says, but she had no reason to believe that after they first met, but she just does.

When she admitted that she considered them friends (and then promptly cried because she was drunk and Harry had the worst sort of response in the world, probably), Harry’s heart felt squishy and malleable in a way it only does when he’s feeling particularly endeared. Like when he looked Muffy in the eyes for the first time and thought he’d probably do anything in the world to protect that kitten. The same goes for Y/N, he thinks. He’d felt this urge to protect her once before, when she had called him on her way home, nervous about a guy in a hoodie. But that had been relatively new to their dynamic, so it wasn’t anything crazy.                                                                                       

But now, it was something else entirely. Now, Harry just wanted to lock her up in her flat and keep her safe where he knew he could. He didn’t like that Finley, all of a sudden, was at the same mall that Y/N was at, and was close enough to grab her and make her uncomfortable, both physically and with words. It was suspicious, just like she had described it to him – the fact that he stopped her even more so. Harry suspected that whatever this was had something to do with Y/N’s likeness to Antonyia. Finley was sort of a dog, so it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to utilize someone to his personal benefit, even if it meant putting them in danger. Harry isn’t sure what the plan is, but he knows with time, he could sure as hell figure it out, and figure it out quickly enough that he would be ahead of them again. 

He would do a sweep of her flat, just in case, and make sure that nobody other than Harry had been tracking anything regarding her. Then he’d double-check that all of her locks and windows are still latched firmly. He’d look for even a bowl or a bottle of lotion that was out of place. He’d probably teach YN how to spot differences like that, too, just for future situations where this might arise. 

So that’s why he was feeling irritated. He was feeling soft because Y/N was currently asleep on the sofa with Muffy against her belly, and he thinks it might be the cutest thing he’s seen in his life. She’d been so wired right after they got home, she was just jittering with nervous energy. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she fell asleep quickly on the couch beside him when he was looking at the weather. She was closer to him than he wondered if she actually meant to be, with her head curled up on the pillow that was directly besides thigh. Harry had to hold back from combing his fingers along her skin a couple of times after finding out that she liked to be petted. She was snoring even, these feathery little noises. The fact that she felt safe enough with him to fall asleep so deeply made something warm stir in his chest. Same with Muffy, snuggled all close to her, sweet and soft. 

Harry thinks he’ll probably be spending a lot of time here in the following days. 

i.

Y/N can see the breath in front of her mouth. 

That’s all she can see right now, really. That’s all she can focus on, beyond the loud, almost obnoxious thudding that her heart echoes through her ears, bouncing off the membranes inside like a kettle drum. She hears that, her own staggered breathing, and then the resounding silence that can only manifest in times of pure panic. Like that time she honest to god thought a bear was in the backyard of their rented cabin (with a very unreliable door, that even a raccoon had managed to open with a little shove of its body – it turned out that it wasn’t a bear, but someone’s dog from a spot rented nearby, thankfully), or when she was driving in a thunderstorm so horrible that she could barely see the car in front of her beyond the sheets of rain (she was alone, of course, on her way to Niall’s and thinking that she could beat out the storm, but it turns out that when the weather app says rain in 20 minutes, it actually means 5). 

Well, it just so happens that when an unknown assailant has her pinned against bricks with something sharp at her throat, her body has the same response. Her sympathetic nervous system is consistent, to say the least, and maybe a little confused about the difference between a thunderstorm and being kidnapped and potentially killed. 

Her day had started like any other day. Y/N had woken up ten minutes before her first alarm, then rolled around beneath her covers until her second. She did her morning stretches, a New Year’s resolution imposed by Niall, who was convinced they could hold each other accountable (he stopped doing them a week in), then forced herself into a shower where the water was too on the side of too hot. The way it pelted at her skin felt like little pieces of lava raining from the sky – or what she assumed that felt like. She made half of breakfast because she was already running a bit late and wanted to stop by her favorite cafe on the way to work. The barista, whose name she did not know despite seeing him at least 2-3 times a week, already had her typed in, so she swiped her card and loitered around the pick-up counter until it was ready. She took the subway further into the city, which let her off just a block away from her office building. 

Once she got to work, it was much the same as well. She clocked in, and her coworker Aki was usually around the time clock at the same point she was in the morning, so they’d walk in together. Y/N would get to her desk, and she’d set her coffee down on the table, and while she was organizing her stuff to set up shop for the day, Niall would pop his head over the top of her and Aki’s shared space. Only Y/N’s coffee is the only one that Niall plucks up from the desk and steals a drink from without asking (something that would typically send her over the edge, but she and Niall had been friends since UNI, had even lived together for a couple of semesters before he moved in with his boyfriend at the time, and what was hers, was his, and vice versa – he’d beaten that into her within the first month of knowing him). 

She’s a part of the marketing team for a music company, and with an album release around the corner, their days were pretty busy. Enough so that when Niall grinned, asking her what she was wearing to her date tonight, she barely looked away from the screen to say, “What date?” And promptly get swatted in the shoulder for it, by Aki though, not Niall (he knew Y/N would hit him back 10x harder) “Hey –” 

“You seriously did not forget your date!” Aki’s voice is relatively deep for how girly she looks with pink hair and an even pinker cardigan on, but it can get pretty shrill when she’s upset. “With the handsome guy Niall set you up with? The CEO of –” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, the pet food guy.” Y/N filled in. 

“The CEO of the pet food brand,” Niall corrects, “You could be Miss. Yummy Bites Meow-edition, but tell me you brought something different to wear.” 

Y/N pouted and looked down at her outfit – sure, maybe it wasn’t the best thing in the world, but it wasn’t horrible, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

“Are you planning on seducing a CEO in a sweater?” Aki inquired. 

Her pout deepened, “It’s cashmere!” She told them, “Besides, I’m not looking to seduce anyone. This is more of a courtesy date since he’s Ni’s friend of a friend, or however this got set up. Bestie's rules say that I can’t make him look bad.” 

“That is true,” Niall wrapped around the cubicle half wall, instead of leaning over it as he was, and pulling the stool Y/N used to set her feet up on from beneath her desk to sit, “Sweater or not, I want you to give him a chance, yeah? You were just complaining about not having anyone to cuddle during the winter.” 

Y/N sighed and finally spun around from her computer, “I was drunk when I was whining about that, you know you’re supposed to take that with a grain of salt.” 

“Drunk mind, sober truth,” Aki quoted, and Niall nodded his assent. 

“So when Ni said he was open to tentacle porn after four tequila shots, he was telling the truth?” 

“Hey, I was drunk, you can’t trust a thing I say.” 

Y/N scoffed, then rumpled her lips, she sagged her shoulders, “Listen, I promise to give the pet store guy a chance, yeah? We’ll fall in love discussing kibble marketing tactics.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Aki chirped, squeezing her knee, “There’s love in the air – I’m sensing your soulmate nearby!” 

Even with the proposed date, the rest of Y/N’s day went by as it usually does. She went to meetings, she ate lunch with Niall and Aki, then got into an intense discussion regarding a Korean drama that Niall had never watched but liked to have invested opinions on. Y/N almost spilled the pasta she had on the cashmere sweater, but thankfully, it just hit her pants instead, and a stain remover pen works far better on wool-blended pants. The second half of the day is relatively quick, and Aki, who kept a mini flat iron in her purse at all times for her bangs, re-did Y/N’s hair in the bathroom. 

By 6 PM, she was sitting in a restaurant with a glass of red wine in front of her. Every sip she took, her face pinched, because she hates wine, actually, but Niall said it would make her look more affluent and cultured or whatever. She thought it’d be better to try and get used to the taste now, while she waited for him to show, rather than trying to police her face in front of a stranger whom she was meant to be “wooing”. 

They were supposed to meet at 6:15 PM, but Y/N showed up a bit earlier because she was closer. Y/N had tapped into the two-week-old message thread during lunch break to confirm dinner, because if she forgot, and she wasn’t a CEO, then she’s assuming he most likely forgot too. Surprisingly enough, he confirmed the time and the place, and said he was excited to meet her. She wondered if it was his secretary or personal assistant responding instead of him, because the exclamation points and general excitement seemed not that of a CEO. Maybe she was casting judgment before giving him a chance, though – maybe he would be a quirky guy. He runs a pet food company, and Y/N felt as though she shouldn’t expect a brooding, grumpy executive. 

Y/N was open to being shocked by the guy. 

If he ever showed up. 

Because 6:15 turned into 6:30. And 6:30 turned into 7:00. And Y/N was two glasses of wine and about half a loaf of complimentary bread in before she accepts that she got stood up on a date that she didn’t even want to fucking go to. Y/N knew that her waiter knew, and her waiter definitely went to the back with the rest of the staff and spoke about the sad girl in booth 8 waiting for some prick that never showed. She took her check, sent Niall and Aki a very strongly worded message, and tried to walk out of the restaurant with her head held high, even though she definitely wanted to cry a little. She was embarrassed, above all things, and Y/N hated feeling like she was a part of a humiliation ritual. The only time she likes to be kind of humiliated is in bed, but that’s where she draws the line. 

So, yeah, tears were beading at her eyes as she was shoving her arms through her puffy winter coat. She could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket, but she wasn’t in the mood to answer it. Y/N needed to get home, get in a hot bath, and roast in it seafood boil style, then eat her leftovers like she had intended to do from the start of the day. Now she was further from the subway than she’d like to be, and on top of that, it’s late now, in the middle of winter. There was a cold front coming in, too, one that was bad enough they’d been told to turn their faucets on and let them drip.  The wind chill was bitter when it slapped her across the face – nearly as bitter as the wine she drank and the way she felt. 

She was in the middle of pulling her gloves on when she heard a soft meow. Y/N picked her head up and looked around – there were a few people on the street, but not many. It wasn’t the weekend, and typically on Thursday nights, this part of town wasn’t that busy (even ritzy, wealthy people need to go home and get ready for bed at a suitable time during the weekday, it turns out). The meow is sad – it sounded like a cry, and Y/N frowned at the thought of a stray cat out in this weather. It was far too cold, and they weren’t nearly close enough to the animal shelter for it to scout out one of those heated huts they set up for the winter. 

In retrospect, it was stupid of her to be lured into an alleyway because of a cat. Had she known that when she stepped into it with her phone’s flashlight lit up, she’d be yanked further in and placed in this particular predicament?  Not at all. All she knew for sure, really, was that if she made it out of this alive, she was going to beat Niall’s ass (not Aki’s, though she held some blame in making her go – because she was well aware Aki could beat her ass). 

“Don’t move,” the voice was low, right in her ear, and she felt the cold, sharp tip of a blade right against her throat, “If you do, you’ll get hurt, yeah? We don’t want that, do we?” 

Y/N’s mouth runs dry, her heart is echoing in her ears, the visual of her breath ghosting in front of her is all she can see, “N-no,” she replied, her hands stiff at her sides, “I – you can have my wallet, it’s in my pocket, and –” 

“I don’t want your money,” he cut her off, “Your little friend you were supposed to meet – you must have been tipped off, yeah? Told him not to show?” Y/N’s brows furrowed, “Who paid you?” 

“Wh-what?” Y/N thinks that if this guy wasn’t holding her up, she’d probably fall out, “Nobody paid me, I was – I just got stood up –” 

He scoffed, “Do you think I’m stupid?” He replied, “I’ve been following him for weeks, tracking his calls, his emails, his messages – the dumbass didn’t even use a burner. You have connections to Holland.” 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” Y/N all but squeals, her voice raising, but when he shushes her, she feels the blade against her throat; she swallows hard – her neurons are misfiring, she’s certain of it. She is so overwhelmed, confused, and flushed with fear that she thinks she might pass out. Or that wine is going to make a reappearance on the concrete. Or she’s going to piss herself. Fuck, she doesn’t know. Is she seriously going to get murdered after being stood up? That’s like two messed-up things in one day, and totally not fair! Is this because she didn’t forward that chain mail when she was 11? This has something to do with that, she’s sure of it, because there’s no way that this just happened to her randomly. 

Her phone buzzes in her pocket again, “I swear, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, voice hushed but rushed, “I literally just work on a marketing team, and I got stood up for a date that my friend set up with some dickhead CEO! I don’t know a ‘Holland’, and I certainly did not tell him not to show up! I barely even know his name!” 

A hand reaches into the pocket, her phone is buzzing, and when he holds the phone out in front of them, Niall’s stupid contact photo is on the screen (it’s him, cake smeared all over his face, grinning ear-to-ear after someone random at the bar smushed his head into it after he blew out his candles). “If this call is sketchy in any way,” he threatens, “I’ll kill you where you stand.” 

The man behind her swipes the call to answer it, and never has Y/N been so happy with the fact that Niall immediately starts talking as soon as the call clicks over, “Baby, I’m so sorry! I’m seriously going to kick Oliver’s ass, he said this guy was super sweet. And to stand you up, of all people, you’re a catch! You should have been standing him up!” He sounds flustered, “I’m so sorry I made you go.” 

She could scream, and holler, and tell Niall to call the cops, but she doesn’t really see what that would do for her right now. This guy could slice her up and be long gone before Niall even believed this wasn’t some elaborate joke to make him feel bad. The blade against her neck was a helpful reminder, too, that he had the upper hand in this situation. 

“It’s fine, Ni, I’m just going to go home,” Y/N steels her voice, and tries not to sound like someone being held at knife point, “I’ll – call you when I get there.” 

“You don’t want to stay on the phone? I know how much you hate the subway this late. I was kind of hoping he’d use his CEO money to get you an Uber, or like – I don’t know, buy you a car and profess his undying love or something.” 

She swallows hard, “No, it’s fine, I just want to be alone with my thoughts for a little while.” 

“I get it,” he agrees, “Mope away, baby, call me when you get home, okay? Don’t forget.” 

They hang up the phone, and in that same instant, the knife is taken away from her. “Oh, wow, I’m so sorry.” The guy switches up so fast, Y/N nearly gets whiplash, and when she’s twisting to get a look at him, she sees a man with a mask over his mouth and a beanie. He does pull the mask down and pockets the knife – she guesses as a show of trust or something – she doesn’t know. She still feels frozen in her spot, “This is so embarrassing, let me make a quick phone call. Stay where you’re at, though, yeah?” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials someone. The guy keeps his gaze on her, and as her eyes finally adjust to the darkness, she can just barely make out his face with the scant amount of light oozing in from the street lamp. It casts shadows over his face – he looks normal. Not like someone who would pull a stranger into the alleyway and threaten them. And he looks incredibly apologetic, scratching at his chin, when the person on the other end answers. 

The conversation is short, kind of coded, but Y/N listens when he says, “Yeah, well, I’m staring at the wrong woman right now. Mhm. Yeah – no, yeah, this is definitely bad. Of course I showed her my face, I feel horrible,” he frowned, nodding his head, “Well, yeah that’s a given. Uh-huh. Okay, I’ll tell her,” then he chuckles, “God, shut up, I know – I haven’t done something like this since I was a recruit. Nobody is going to let me hear the end of it.” 

He clicks his phone, shuts it off with the pad of his gloved thumb, then slips his phone into his pocket, “Okay, so here’s the thing – I’m not going to hurt you, okay? But I also can’t just let you off into the night – if you go to the police, that kind of really puts a damper on everything, y’know? And this has been years in the making, and a lot of money riding on it, that will piss off some very important people if it gets screwed up.” He pointed to himself, “I don’t want that,” then he pointed to her, “And you definitely don’t want that. I guarantee it. So I’ll have to take you home, okay?” 

She stared at him, trying to register everything he told her, and honestly, everything that had just happened in the last 10 minutes. He really didn’t phrase that like a question, so it seemed like what she answered wouldn’t matter either way. When her gaze warily drops down to where he pocketed the knife, he pulls it out of his pocket and delicately gives it an underhand toss across the alleyway. The sound of it clinks and twinkles as it hits the concrete, careening over to a stop against the bricks. “Here, I won’t bring it,” he tells her, then apologizes again, “I’m really sorry, this is so horrible, but – I mean, if you refuse, then I’m going to have to knock you out, and I really don’t want to do that either.” 

“You had no problem holding a knife to my throat,” Y/N reminds him, and he holds his chest. 

“Hey, that was different, I thought you were someone bad!” He defends himself, “Really, I’m a gentleman.” 

She huffs a laugh, finally regaining some of the feeling in her legs, “Um, okay, I guess, I don’t really have a choice,” He nodded,  and Y/N couldn’t tell if he mockingly felt bad for her, or if this was genuine, “Can I – can I ask two questions though, really quick?” 

“Hm, depends on what they are. I can’t answer some of them.” 

“What’s your name?” 

He peers at her, squinting a little, “Y’know, I’d normally refuse that one, but it seems like you’ve had a rough night. And if you do go to the police, well – I’ll know, y’know?” No, she doesn’t know how he’d know, but she doesn’t really care to ask either, “And I’ll have time to get things in order, so I’ll be honest with you. My name is Harry. I won’t tell you the last name though,” he held out his hand, formally, to shake, “And your name isn’t Antonyia, I’m guessing? That’s who I thought you were.” 

She tentatively takes his hand – she wouldn’t have, if not for the fact that she was wearing a glove too. Their gloved hands meet, and he shakes once, “I’m Y/N,” she replies, “How did you make such a realistic cat sound? Like – that’s the only reason I came in here.” 

The man – Harry – blinks, then shakes his head, “Oh, that wasn’t me, that was just really lucky. Good thing you’re an animal lover,” God, is this guy for real?  “I reckon there is a real cat in here –” he pointed deeper into the alleyway, “It was meowing the whole time, but I think you were scared, so you didn’t hear. Do you want me to go look? You can keep the flashlight on me to make sure I’m not doing anything weird.” 

So Y/N does send him deeper into the alleyway, because she came in here to save a cat, and it almost cost her her life, and she would be saving the fucking cat at the very least. Y/N keeps the flashlight trained on him, watching as he clicks his tongue and calls for whatever cat might be hiding in the alleyway. It takes a while, but soon she hears a gasp, more little chirps, and meows, and then he’s crouching down. When he stands back up, he turns around and makes his way back – when he’s close enough, Y/N can see he’s got a tiny little thing in his arms, covered in mud, and shivering. 

“Poor baby,” he sighs, “She’s freezing, isn’t she? And so stinky, ah – let’s get her home.” 

“It’s a girl?” Y/N tilted her head, “How can you tell?” 

“I can’t,” he answers truthfully, “It’s just a guess. Alright, so my car is kind of far, but –” 

“Do you – I mean, do you mind if we take the subway instead?” 

They do. Harry is kind enough (that’s funny to say) to allow her the small grace of them taking the subway, rather than Y/N really sealing a night of horrible choices by getting in a stranger’s car. Harry holds onto the cat the entire time and chats idly, as if they were old friends who had just bumped into each other. He talks about the weather, about the show that’s being promoted on the top of the subway, and about what he wants for breakfast tomorrow morning. At this point, Y/N is kind of dissociating, so she’s replying but not to her fullest, probably. He doesn’t seem to take any offense to it, though. 

In the light, she can make out his features much better. His eyes are green, his brows are well-groomed, and even his face seems cleanly shaven. His skin looks smooth and soft, like someone who takes delicate care of it. His lips look smooth too, and glossy, and his cheekbones are high. He even has pretty cute dimples. Objectively, he’s handsome and quite pretty, but he was holding a knife to her throat no more than 30-ish minutes ago, so she is still wary. What must his job be, if that’s something he does? Did he work for the mafia? Or just some random gang? Honestly, with how he coos and talks sweetly to the kitten, she doesn’t see how he could be the type of person carrying around a knife at all, but she supposes she’s been wrong in her assessments before. 

He walks her all the way up to her door, where he’s handing over the sodden, muddied kitten that had been a very good girl (boy?) during the entire venture home. Her eyes widened, “Oh, I can’t –” 

“You’ll have to,” he replied decisively, carefully navigating her, “I have some stuff to take care of, since I messed up, haha.” Y/N takes the stinky, muddy kitten in her arms and tries not to think about getting these stains out of her coat and sweater. “Take good care of her, okay? I’ll keep in touch!” 

Then he’s leaving, relatively leisurely for someone who said they had things to take care of. And Y/N is left, holding the dirty kitten, wondering what the hell just happened, because what the fuck. 

What the fuck! 

                                                                     .                       .                     .

Y/N stayed up far too late for someone who needed to be at work this morning. Could you blame her, though? She’d first been humiliated, then went through something incredibly traumatic, and on top of that, had a scared, shivering, starving, and dirty little kitten in her arms. If she had gone to bed at an appropriate time after that, then she’d probably need to be checked in somewhere for a mental exam to make sure she was processing things adequately. 

After Harry left her, she decided to focus all of her attention on the baby that he’d left her with. The kitten doesn’t move around much, which yanks at her heart – she was probably so cold and hungry, Y/N needed to figure something out quickly. So she uses her phone to order a variety of cat-related goods, and what started as just essentials turns into treats, toys, and a warming cat bed. It was scheduled to arrive in 30-ish minutes, since she lives pretty close to a pet store, and the delivery drivers are always making laps around the area (she lives close to several grocery stores, too). She makes a mental note to make a vet appointment for tomorrow after work, but before that, she needs to get the dirt and grime off of this stinky kitten. 

The bath goes better than she’d expected, but again, it makes her heart hurt that the tiny baby is probably most likely so exhausted and hungry that she has little fight left to give. She puts one of her towels in the warmer that Niall sent her the link to three months ago (that had changed her showering life entirely), and fills her sink with warm, sudsy, shampoo-y water. She scrubbed her carefully, gently, stripping her of the dirt and grime. She drained and replaced the water three separate times before it stopped getting murky as she massaged her newly revealed, gray fur. 

She was fluffy and puffy when Y/N dried her with a washcloth at first, getting the majority of the dripping water off of her before she carefully wrapped her in the warm towel. Y/N placed her carefully in the cradle of her lap, then sat in front of the space heater. There was a little rumble at first, which Y/N almost mistook for the heater, but then she felt the lump of towel with a cat head sticking out of it purring, and her heart did another little twitch. The poor thing was so cold and lonely out there, she wanted to cry thinking about it. 

Harry had pretty confidently suggested that she should be close to 8 weeks, and Y/N had asked how he knew that before he launched into a whole thing about their eyes, their mobility, how much weight they should be gaining in a month, etc, etc. To be honest, she’d only been half listening, because she was borderline dissociating the whole trip back to her flat, wondering if she’d actually just drunk too much wine and passed out waiting for her date rather than nearly getting kidnapped. 

As Y/N set up the litter box, the food and water bowls, and the warm bed, she had decided for sure that she wouldn’t be going to the police about this. Harry’s vague threat was enough to scare her, that’s for sure, and even though he seems like he feels bad, she’s certain he would be comfortable killing if it meant keeping him out of jail. Niall and Aki wouldn’t be hearing about it either, at least not until she knows more about this, or until all of this blows over and a few months (or years) pass, and she’s confident Harry doesn’t have her chipped somewhere. Plus, both of them are such big mouths (she says this endearingly), there was no way they could keep it a secret. 

So what happened tonight was between Y/N, the kitten, and Harry. Those would be the only three who knew anything about anything that was going on. Which was alright; Y/N was kind of banking on stuffing this back in the recesses of her mind so she doesn’t get weird about having to pass alleyways or go out on dates that could lead to being stood up. 

“It was just a weird, one-time thing,” Y/N was speaking to herself, but also the kitten, who had just eaten some wet food, drank water, and let Y/N place her in the warm cat bed that she placed on her bedside table (she moved her lamp out of the way for now – she just wanted to keep an eye on her, and it was big enough that she wouldn’t fall right off if she rolled around at all), “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Harry will probably low-key stalk me for a while, realize that I’m not going to say anything, and then leave us alone. Right, kitty?” 

That’s what she expected, at least. The following day, Y/N left the kitten in her bathroom with all of the trinkets she bought for her, along with her food, water, and litter box. On the way into work, she scheduled the vet appointment and, thankfully, got in at a good time with her story. Niall meets her at the time clock today, with an extra coffee in hand, and a bag of a pastry dangling out of his mouth. When Y/N grabs it from him so he can talk, he immediately launches into 1000 apologies and threats towards the guy who stood her up. 

“Seriously, I’ll put a hit out on him.” Niall unintentionally makes a mockery of her current situation, and the irony of it is almost funny enough that she wants to reveal everything that happened. “What a prick! I tore into Ricky about setting you up with such an asshole.” 

Y/N sighed, “You didn’t have to do that, Ni,” she shook her head, “It’s whatever, you know, some people are just stupid. Maybe he just changed his mind and was too embarrassed to cancel.” 

“What he should be embarrassed about is his fuck ass CEO position at a pet food company.” 

“Weren’t you just hyping him up yesterday for that?” 

Niall turned his nose up, “That’s before we found out he was a major dick,” he slid closer to her, so that as they walked, their arms touched. Niall was a touchy-feely guy in general, but it is exacerbated tenfold when he feels bad or guilty about something. She already wasn’t going to tell him about Harry, but if she had been planning to, all of that was thwarted by the way he slid her favorite order in her palm and used his freehand to scratch gently at the nape of her neck. He feels horrible already; if she let him know that she had almost been mistakenly kidnapped and killed, she thinks he’d lose his mind. 

“Really, don’t worry about it, okay? I’m okay. I was sad last night, but I’m just –” I’m honestly, happy to be alive – “ – fine, yeah?” 

“Okay,” he pouts his mouth, “But if you want to talk about it, you know I’m here, right? Aki too – I had to tell her so she didn’t say something stupid.” 

Aki appears suddenly beside them, “I’ve never said a stupid thing a day in my life,” she rebuts, then reaches in to squeeze Y/N’s side, “You know every Baddie has to get stood up at least once or twice? It builds character and makes you extra hot – I read that somewhere, like a Seventeen article or something.” 

“Do they even print that anymore?” Niall inquires, still rubbing at the back of Y/N’s neck – she likes it, so she doesn’t tell him to stop – plus, if she got too weird about her neck, he might inspect a little closer and notice the little cut on her skin. She’d already come up with the elaborate ploy to blame it on the kitten and her clunky, clumsy use of her nails. 

The rest of her morning is relatively normal. She sets up at her desk, reveals to Aki and subsequently Niall (who at this point should just shack up in a desk near theirs, because he’s over there more than he’s at his own space already) that she had found a kitten after being stood up the night prior, and both gasp. Obviously, they want to come meet her, but Y/N tells them she needs to make sure she’s up to date on her shots and more comfortable before they do. She does show them pictures, though, and they coo and awe at her phone loud enough that their floor manager also comes to look. 

They eventually have to work. Y/N answers emails and coordinates dates for different record stores to release an album's special vinyl edition. She worries her lip between her teeth when she starts thinking too much about what happened last night, then shoves it to the back of her head when she decides to focus on the new addition to her flat waiting for her at home. Actually, anytime the flutter of Harry tries to tiptoe back into her head, she swats him like a fly out of it. Imagining a miniature version of the man she met last night flying away from her head after being hit by the miniature guard version of her that patrols her brain – makes her giggle, at least. 

It’s around lunchtime that the front desk receptionist shows up at Y/N’s cubicle before she has the chance to flee with Niall and Aki to the cafe down the road. In her hands is a huge bouquet of wildflowers, an assortment of pinks, purples, and periwinkle blues. “These came for you!” She grinned at Y/N, clearly giddied by flowers sent, “I didn’t know you were dating anyone!” 

“Oh, I’m not,” Y/N’s brows raised, taking the bouquet by the glass vase, “Ah? Are you sure it’s mine?” 

“Positive,” she replied as she started walking away, the front desk phone ringing. “They were sent for you by first and last name.” 

Y/N spots a card in the midst of the flowers, nestled between what looks like lavender, and she plucks it from the center. On one side is her name, and on the other is a little note. 

Sorry again about last night ( • ᴗ - ) ✧ - H

Her eyes widen as she reads over it, before she quickly stuffs it inside her work bag hanging open at her feet. Thankfully, Aki was in the bathroom, and Niall’s nosy ass was just far enough that she could get away with it before he made it to her desk. It would be too difficult to backpedal and try to explain the card when she’s pretty sure the guy she was supposed to meet did not have a name that began with H. Not only that, the wording suggests that they had spoken with each other and he’d already apologized, which he hadn’t (asshole), and Aki and Niall both already know that. Clearly, Harry doesn’t care if she seems like a liar whose story isn’t straight in front of her friends  – that or he’s trying to test her. 

“Holy fuck, look at the size of that!” Niall exclaims, dangling over the side of her cubicle again, and Aki lets out her own gasp when she comes back, letting her fingers touch and graze different parts of the plant, “I guess dickhead thought this was going to fix it all, hm? Did he leave a card?” 

Y/N shook her head, keeping her gaze locked on the flowers as if she were marveling at them, only because she knew Niall could scan her face and read her lie in 3 seconds flat. “No, this is crazy,” she murmured, because, objectively, it was. To Niall and Aki, it would make sense how the CEO of the pet food guy would know where she worked, because he was Niall’s friend of a friend, and Niall’s friend would have an idea where Niall worked. But to Y/N, who knows that it was the guy who had just pressed a knife to her throat the night prior – she knew there was no way for him to know without him having done something creepy. Whether it was somehow look into her, on whatever weird, fucked up software hitmen have, or he followed her this morning. Both were equally horrible, she feels. 

The logical part of her brain told her that he’d basically told her he was going to do this the night before. He literally said I’ll keep in touch – she just hadn’t thought it’d be in the form of apology flowers. Or, well, threatening flowers. She isn’t sure – she couldn’t get a read on that guy at all! Part of her could see where this was a thinly veiled threat disguised as a flowery, spring-y gift, like a ‘See, I know where you work, so you better keep your mouth shut,’ kind of thing. But the other part of her could imagine that, as weirdly apologetic and helpful as he was after the fact, these were a genuine peace offering. She couldn’t decide. How quickly he switched up his attitude once he realized she wasn’t the woman he was after made it hard to tell what kind of person he was. Did he have split personalities? Maybe you had to, to do the work that he does. If she could even tell what that work was – she’s really just guessing. 

And what was up with the emoji after?

“Guys always think flowers are going to make up for their shitty disposition,” Aki clicks her tongue, taking the vase out of Y/N’s hand, and setting it on their shared space in between them, “But we needed some garnish for our desk, it’s been looking extra depressing lately. You know, we should really look into decorating it all cutesy.” 

“Please do, I reckon we could really liven it up with your Hentai collection.”

Aki rolls her eyes, “I think you mean your Hentai collection, you fucking perv.” 

Y/N is thankful for her friend’s varying levels of attention deficits that get the heat off her quicker. The back of her neck feels hot, and she feels a curl in her stomach – it feels wrong to lie to them, but it felt like she didn’t have much of a choice. It was either that or Harry would probably kill her, so she’s sure that they would understand if it came down to it. The note that he sent is burning a hole through her bag; she can practically feel it radiating heat. Her fingers itch to grab it, but what would it matter if she did? Rereading it wouldn’t help – it’s not like there would be some clue or something. 

She needs to view it as a weird, hybrid apology/threat and go about her day. 

So that’s what she does. The rest of her day is as normal as the first half had been before lunch, and her boss lets her leave a little early for the vet appointment. She beats the evening rush of people going home on the subway, then makes it to her flat in record time, all without being accosted by some random criminal. The kitten is happy to see her, chirping and meowing loudly when she opens the door to greet her. Last night, she had purchased a small, collapsible crate, and she coaxed the kitten inside it with treats, then stuffed Y/N’s winter scarf inside so that she could smell it. 

The vet went well – better than she thought for a stray kitty. Y/N finds out that she is, in fact, a girl. They did a flea check, and there were none, thank god, because Y/N had not considered that a possibility when she let her sleep beside her bed. Preventative dewormers, a broad-spectrum antibiotic for what they told her was a respiratory infection, an ointment for her left eye that was looking red during the exam, a vaccine schedule for the coming months, and a day to be spayed. They also give her an idea of what sort of food would be best for her, concerning her age and other factors. Y/N appreciates that they aren’t trying to force her into purchasing the food they have at the counter. There’s also a new patient sign-on bonus and a discount for stray care (since they require more interventions than a run-of-the-mill adoption, but they want to encourage people to help strays on the street). 

Leaving the vet, Y/N felt a lot better about the situation. She was going to stop at the pet store again, to get the food they suggested, though she was starting to panic about how she was going to carry all of this home. Y/N had the (now) sleeping cat in the crate, a bag full of meds, and the thought of adding a huge thing of food to that seems just horrific. 

Whether by the grace of the universe or as another slap to her face, she hears an all too familiar voice. 

“Oh, good, you took her to the vet,” Y/N whips her head around to see Harry, but he looks much different than he did during their first meeting. No dark clothes and black hoodie, no black mask, and no knife – at least none that she could see. He probably has it strapped to his ankle or something, “I was worried you’d just drop her off at a shelter or something. There are plenty of no-kill ones in the area, but you know, sweet kittens can get lost in the cracks there sometimes.” 

When he reaches out to let the kitten sniff his hands, Y/N pulls the carrier closer to her, regarding him doubtfully, “What are you doing here?” She inquires, “You don’t have to follow me, I’m not going to tell.” 

Harry’s brows raise, “Huh? I’m not following you. I was getting a tea,” he holds up the boba cup in his left hand, shaking it around, then reaches into his pocket and produces a punch card, with ten cups scribbled out, “I come here all the time, it’s my favorite. This was my 10th one, so the next time it’s free. You can ask Gladys, I’m her favorite customer.” 

She relaxes a little – there’s something about Harry that is very convincing. . .she doesn’t know. Maybe it’s a part of his job to be convincing, whatever his specific job title is. He seems so unsuspecting and normal right now, Y/N is starting to wonder if she’d hallucinated the whole attempted kidnapping and knife to throat part. How could this guy, who is in a white shirt with a lamb on it, a zipped-up windbreaker, and athletic shorts, be the same person she’d met last night? He’s got sunglasses pressing his hair up and out of his face, and in this light, his eyes are very green. Really, the only suspicious-looking thing about him was the fact that he had a small bag strapped across his body, which really could be holding anything. It was decorated with pins and keychains, though. Would someone really keep something nefarious in a bag that had a patchwork cat with big button eyes dangling off the side of it? 

“Oh,” she replied, “Well, after the flowers I just thought – I don’t know.” 

“The flowers,” Harry repeated, tilting his head, “You didn’t like them? But you had wildflowers on your doormat?” 

She blinked, “No, I liked them! They were pretty, but I just thought you sending them to my job was like a threat or something.” 

His eyes went wide again, “A threat? Jeez, you are very distrusting. Which is wise, sure, but you should be just a little more trusting sometimes, your life would be much more lax.” It was a crazy thing to say, all things considered, but he continued as if he didn’t realize how stupid what he just said was, “Your hands are kind of full? Do you need help?” 

Would it be stupid to agree to this? Of course it would – this man is probably dangerous! He is dangerous, and she doesn’t know the extent of what he could do or to whom he does it. But it’s like. . .he already knows where she lives. And the thought of lugging a 6kg bag of food around, plus her work bag, plus the cat, and all her meds. . .it just seems like a lot, really. She also thinks that if he was going to actually hurt her, he would’ve done it in the dark alleyway that he found her in, and not in broad daylight outside of a boba place and an animal clinic. 

“Actually, would you help me carry this home? I need to stop at the pet store and get food for her. They think she should be on a semi-special diet – one for sensitive tummies.”

He easily took the crate from her hands, fixing his fingers around the straps at the top, “Ahh, I see – they probably put her on a lot of meds, right? Sometimes those antibiotics can be really harsh on the stomach.” 

“Yeah,” she told him as they started walking – the pet store wasn’t very far, and she’d really prefer not to walk in silence, honestly, it’d give her way too much time to think. And right now she can’t really think, or she’ll overthink, so she just talks – maybe she’d even be able to get some information out of him. Not that she really needs anything. She doesn’t want to be involved, but she’d just like to know how involved he’s actually going to be with her, so that it could settle her mind. “Um, do you know a lot about cats?” 

Harry turns and looks at her with a smile, nodding, “I foster them from time-to-time,” he explains, “Every couple of months. But then I get attached. They’re usually medically complex, so they need a lot of time and attention and love, and when work gets busy, I’m unable to provide all they need, so I don’t adopt them officially, even though I really want to.” 

“Oh, that. . .was not what I was expecting,” Y/N thought he’d admit to growing up with a cat or something – maybe saving a stray once a long time ago, or knowing a friend of a friend who did. She guesses it makes sense, though, how comfortably he’d been cradling the kitten to his chest the night before. And she was surprised to find that there were fluctuations in his work, but this at least gave her an opening to ask, “So, I’m not trying to be nosy or anything, but what is it that you do, exactly?” 

Harry hums low, tucks the straw into the corner of his mouth, and takes a drink. It doesn’t seem like he’s stalling, though. “Well, officially, and as far as the government and my family are concerned, I work remotely as a financial advisor for some of the wealthier people in the area. I got my degree in finance with an emphasis on business administration.” 

Y/N slides her work back from her left shoulder to her right, rolling out the tension that had started to form from having it hooked and heavy over her arm for so long, “And unofficially?” She prompts, and the corner of Harry’s lips twitches in something of a soft smile. 

“Ah, there really isn’t a name for that.” He tells her, “Just some part-time stuff.” 

She blinks at him, “I guess I was just wondering how much this part-time stuff was going to involve like. . .like watching me, or whatever.” Y/N gently prods, “I understand why you have to, I guess, but just – like knowing what you’re doing and when you’re doing it would make me feel a little better about it all. At least I think it will.” 

Harry is quiet for a moment, like he’s contemplating his response. Finally, it seems like he’s having an appropriate response to the situation, though his gentle and overall flippant, calm, and otherwise friendly attitude has kept her calmer than she thinks she would have been otherwise. There’s something about him that is just. . .it makes her let her guard down, a little – she can feel it. Y/N doesn’t even know if she’d have felt comfortable enough to let the CEO come with her to the petstore, yet here she is with this stranger. A stranger, who was probably far more threatening than he let on. 

“Again, I’m telling you a lot here,” he finally began, “Only because I feel so bad for what happened last night. The fact that you got stood up and got mixed up in shitty, rich people bullshit. I just have to track you for a little while; it would make the people I work for feel a lot better, and I’d rather it be me than them sending someone else. Especially since I’m the one who got you involved in all of this.” He waves his hands around, motioning like he was referring to the bigger picture, but ends up bopping the kitten around a bit in her crate, “So, full disclosure: I’m tracking calls and texts, and I know when you leave your flat and where you’re going! Otherwise, I’m leaving you be.” He smiles like it’s something to be proud of, and something that she should appreciate. “Today, though, I really wasn’t following you. I’d already been getting my tea when you showed up, and I wanted to greet you to check-in. If I were really following you and didn’t want you to know, then you wouldn’t.” 

That was an unsettling note to end it on, for sure, “I – uh. . .I appreciate the honesty,” she nods, swallowing. 

Harry sighs, almost comically, dragging a thumb across his brow, “Ah, you’re so understanding! I’m glad we got that settled; it was kind of eating away at me, too,” he replied, “Anyway, I’d suggest staying away from that CEO; he’s under a lot of scrutiny right now, by a lot of angry rich men – definitely not the place to be. I’m one of the kinder options of my colleagues, so it would be a shame if someone else mistook you for Antonyia.”  He tucked his cup between his bicep and chest before using his newly free hand to squeeze her shoulder, and Y/N tenses under the grip but doesn’t pull away. “Anyway, what are you going to name her?” 

“Pardon?” Y/N’s head is reeling, her thoughts tied up in disjointed knots. 

“The baby?” Harry holds up the crate, “Her name? Have you given it any thought?” 

Y/N finally registered what he was asking her and shook her head, “Ah, no, I haven’t,” she answered honestly, “I’ve just been so focused on getting her settled that a name has completely slipped from my mind.” 

A gentle hum leaves Harry, almost sounding like a purr himself, but then she realizes the kitten is purring in her crate, and when Y/N peers through the side window, she sees her kneading the scarf she has in there. Her heart felt soft as Harry spoke, “Let’s name her Muffy.” 

“Muffy?” Y/N tilted her head, “Do you mean Miffy? Like the rabbit.” 

“No, silly, I mean Muffy. Like a Muffy.” 

The kitten stretches up to the little window and presses the soft, new skin of toe beans up against the wall. They had somehow stayed so soft, even after her rough life on the streets, and Y/N thinks that’s nice. Really, the only indication that she had been in an alleyway the night before was the small tear in the thin skin of her ear. Her big eyes either plead with her to not name her Muffy or to keep the name Muffy – she really doesn’t know. 

“Okay,” Y/N agreed,  “Muffy it is.” 

“Yay! Muff for short,” he smiled, “And when she hops off the bed during midnight zoomies, we can call it Muff Diving.” 

Y/N doesn’t know who this “we” is, but she lets it go as they walk into the pet store.  

It was interesting. Harry suggested a cart because, allegedly, they couldn’t just come here to get pet food and nothing else. He was telling her all of the things that she needed with the bag of food. More toys that are “mentally stimulating”, a small cat treat, scratchers for her nails, a special brand of shampoo, and conditioner. He loads her cart, all while talking her ear off about how important every one of these items is to ensure success for Muffy’s life. Y/N has no choice but to believe him, all things considered – he did allegedly foster cats and seemed pretty knowledgeable about it all. And since he would be there to help carry, she was okay with it. The only slightly off-putting thing he said the whole trip was when they were near the beds and he murmured, “You’ve already got one of those, so we’re good here.” Which meant – yeah, for sure, he was somehow in her phone – but she tries not to think about that. 

He carries all the heavy things while she carries the kitten and the lesser full bags. Harry doesn’t complain, and she thinks that if his jacket were off, his biceps would be bulging out of his sleeves. They felt big last night when they were wrapped around her at least, and she was, for the most part, immobile. He barely breaks a sweat on the entire walk to her car, or when they discover the elevator is down and have to trek up the stairwell. 

Once they get to her flat, he politely turns his head when she punches the code into her keypad and then only steps inside the very front door to set the things on the floor. 

“Ah, thanks for letting me tag along,” he smiles, as if he’d asked to go, “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be like –” he checks his watch, “30 minutes ago. Do you mind if I set a camera up outside your door?” 

“Um, a little?” 

Harry gives a nod, “You’re right. Okay, bye!” 

Y/N unzips Muffy, who ambles out of her carrier and then stares at Y/N with eyes that could only suggest Hey, what the hell is up with that guy? 

“I don’t know, Muffy,” she clicks her tongue, “Let's get you fed.” 

                                                                 .                       .                      .

The coming weeks were uneventful. 

Work was busy as ever, but that’s to be expected. As the rollout for one album progressed, they started the beginnings of marketing for another, so the team was divided in half, heavying the workload on both ends. Their days were so jam-packed with meetings, calls, creating playlists that include new singles, and promotion of an upcoming tour –  that Niall could only stop by Y/N and Aki’s desk 30 times, which is far less than his typical 93 a day. Everyone is a little miserable, but their trio especially, because they have been afforded no time to be even a little silly.  Aki, every so often, will take one of her hair clips off her head and scrape it against Y/N’s scalp to clip it, which offers three giggles before they are reduced to silence again. Y/N has been halfway arguing with the production team of a talk show to briefly mention the album, because there are two separate covers, and for some reason they are stuck on the risque one being too much for TV (“Which is why you would use the single’s album artwork, as discussed in the prior email.”). 

So, yeah, work sucks, but it shoves all of what happened last month to the back of her head like a distant memory. The only proof that it had occurred was Muffy toddling around her flat, now done with her antibiotics and becoming more and more comfortable with the space (Y/N has even taken to letting her roam around the flat in her absence rather than shutting her away in the bathroom when she’s at work). Otherwise, she hadn’t heard from Harry or seen him, which she doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. He had told her that she wouldn’t know if he was following her or not, which she thought would make her more nervous, but it turns out she really doesn’t care. It’s not even like she feels prickles on the back of her neck or anything. Either Harry is really sneaky, or he’s too busy to be following her at all.

Even the little scar on her neck had since faded, replaced by many scars on her hands and thighs from someone who isn’t in the best control of their claws yet (her name rhymed with Tuffy). The flowers he’d sent had withered and wilted, so Aki threw them out, and the card he’d sent with them, Y/N, had tucked somewhere on her desk at home, so it was surely lost. It really did seem like just a bad dream. Or a very vivid, wine-induced hallucination. 

On a Friday, she, Niall, and Aki go for drinks. They needed it, for sure; their clock-out time is typically 5 PM, but the three of them ended up staying until closer to 7, merely because they’re good friends and excellent coworkers. Y/N and Aki were pretty much finished up with their end of the marketing for the newly released album, but the other project that Niall’s team got placed on was still in the working phases, and at its most difficult when promoting the single of a relatively new artist. It was always a little harder to get different ads and influencers on board advertising someone that they weren’t familiar with. However, Niall was in luck to have two friends deeply invested in social media, who knew that someone making a really good edit to a song was a sure-fire way to get people interested. So long as they had a clip of it that they could utilize. 

Still, contacting the artist’s team to get a clip of the song takes time, explaining their thought process takes time, and then hoping that whatever college student is pouring their heart and soul into editing their favorite celebrities in high definition is willing to bite. They eat there, ordering takeout for themselves and the janitorial staff on their floor that stays late. Niall, who had been in desperate need of physical contact for the past couple of weeks, was practically glued to her and Aki at every move they made. At some point, he was practically in Y/N’s lap while she was on the phone because he knew that she couldn’t tell him to shove off. 

The extra time together hadn’t been enough, she guesses, because all of them are game to go out afterward. Especially when Niall tells them that the bar closest to them has half-priced drinks until 10 PM. 

Y/N is about two drinks in (and two drinks short of being ready to have this happen) when her phone buzzes on the table in front of them. She sees that it’s a text from the contact STUPID DUMB FUCKING PET FOOD GUY (it used to just be ‘pet food guy’, but after that night, she’d changed it in a fit of rage), and her heart drops to her stomach. 

I’m so sorry about the other night. Something came up that I had to take care of, and time got away from me. 

I should have messaged you, though, sooner, but I was embarrassed. 

Would you let me make it up to you? Are you free sometime next week? 

“Who’s messaging you?” Aki hooks her chin over Y/N’s shoulder, squinting (she desperately needs to renew her contact prescription but refuses) at her screen, which garners Niall’s attention, who also leans into Y/N’s space, “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” 

Niall’s brows furrowed, “Is he joking? That was literally last month! That’s so obnoxious. Give me the phone so I can call him a dumb fuck.” 

“I’m. . .wow. That’s – wow. Men actually might be the stupidest things to walk this planet.” Y/N blinks at her phone, “I’m going to turn my read receipts on, so he sees I saw it.” 

Aki and Niall are nodding, “Yes, yes,” they agreed, then Aki goes on to say, “C’mon, Ni, let's get her more drinks. We’re getting you more drinks and a basket of fries.” 

“Why do I have to go?” 

“Because we’re putting it on your tab, babe.” 

Y/N is left at the table, angrily putting her read receipts on. It’s so stupid, honestly, because he was indirectly responsible for her almost getting killed and halfway getting stalked over it! He was also indirectly responsible for Muffy, which pisses her off, because she refuses to give him credit for anything good in her life. And her sweet little Muffy is the light of her life. 

Her phone buzzes again, and she suspects that it’s the CEO (what was his real name again?), but it’s an unknown number. Y/N’s brows dip, and now she’s squinting at her screen in a similar way to Aki. 

Wow, what a douchebag. 

Do you want me to block him for you? I can sign him up for the church of Scientology while I’m at it.

Y/N has a feeling deep in her loins that this is Harry. He had told her that he was inside of her phone – honestly, he’s probably the most honest man in her life next to Niall, and she’s only met him twice in person. Honestly, Y/N should probably be more worked up about that, but at this point, she’s more worked up about this guy thinking he could message her a month after the fact, and she would answer him and go out. What the hell does he even want to do with her anyway? It’s not like she’s a model, a millionaire, and he’s got no indication whether or not she has a good personality – so what would possess him to message her? 

She could ignore Harry’s message, but she doesn’t. Y/N lets her fingers slide across the keyboard while Aki and Niall are busy, because as much as she loves them, they are very nosy and in her business, so they’re always reading over her shoulder. Y/N’s lucky his message was sent when it did rather than when they were still over here, because she has no idea how she would have explained that. 

Hahahahaha, I know right, he’s a fucking prick

I’ll block him later. I sort of want to see if he explains himself 

The Scientology thing would be cool tho

Harry hearts the message. Y/N clicks out of the thread just as Aki and Niall are returning, and Aki already has a fry tucked between her teeth, “Baby, they gave us two baskets!” She cheers at her, sliding them onto the table, “Has he messaged anymore? We saw you on your phone.” 

Y/N shook her head, “No, I was just on Twitter,” she lied, a little bit of guilt welling in her belly. She really didn’t like lying to them, but she has to move on. “Should we eat these and then go dance? My bones feel jittery, like they need to move.” 

“Oh my god, yes,” Aki breathes a sigh through his nose, “That sounds beautiful. Do you think the DJ takes requests? I’ve always wanted to close my eyes and exist in the same sphere as Charlie XCX blasting since BRAT summer.” 

“You’re in luck, it’s a jukebox, not a DJ – we need to download the app though.” 

Y/N is still able to have fun – that isn’t a hard feat with the two she’s with, that’s for sure, but there’s still something niggling at the back of her head. She just can’t brush it off. How weird it is that he’d choose now to send her a message? Was he really just that stupid? Had he forgotten about her entirely, and then the guilt of it clawed at the back of his throat? She really didn’t think he even knew her enough to feel guilty about it, if she’s honest. It was just weird is all. Like an ex that messages you when they sense your emotional stability is a little too well-balanced. 

Harry must think it’s odd, too, for him to message her. He’s weird, sure, and she hadn’t heard from him for about a month either, but had he suspected this was her involvement in something greater, Y/N doesn’t think he would have messaged her. He would have let her respond and seen how the conversation went, then probably do away with her for lying to him if it seemed in any way sketchy. Though at this point, Y/N thinks Harry could be fairly confident she had nothing to do with anything that he initially thought. She also thinks he could be pretty certain she wasn’t going to go to the police about this, either, at this point.

Y/N was content on pretending that all of it never happened, and gaslighting herself into believing that she’d found Muffy in a completely normal, sane, work-friendly story way. 

They actually don’t stay out very late. By the time they’re leaving, Y/N and Aki had sobered up a fair amount, but Niall was about ten sheets to the wind. It sucks, because those two take a different subway than she does to her home stop, and she really didn’t want to go alone. But she didn’t want to leave Muffy home alone for the night just yet, and already felt like she was damaging the poor cat’s psyche by not coming home the time she usually does. And as fun as it was to wrestle a still ready to party Niall out of his outside clothes and into bed, she desperately wanted to be submerged in the bathtub and then snuggled in her bed. She’d just washed her sheets last night, so they were still fresh and smelling like fabric softener. 

Everything was okay until she and the others actually had to split ways. Then, when Y/N was on a subway car by herself (save for a handful of other strangers surrounding her, all various states of disarray, from just about to start their night to clearly ending it), she starts to get paranoid. She really does not like taking the subway by herself, but it’s either a well-lit underground cart or she’s trekking more than 5km home alone in the dark. And Y/N would rather take her chances with a couple of drug-induced waves of hysteria surrounded by equally dumbfounded strangers. 

Even after getting off the subway, she has a couple of blocks to walk before she’s at her flat building. Fridays were typically busier, but she still didn’t live in the most exciting part of town, so even being busy was a little too empty for her liking. The click of her shoes against the pavement echoes hauntingly, and the sound of her breath is too loud. She can hear the rapid thud of her heartbeat. It’s a little too similar to last month, when all of this started, only it was much warmer in the night than it had been then. She doesn’t see the smoky plumes of her breath in front of her mouth this time, but she still curls her arms around her upper half anyway. 

Her phone is fixed in a tight grip. She would call Aki, but she knows they’re still in the subway and the service is shit on their route. Y/N swallows thickly and looks back behind her, wondering why her city didn’t seem to believe in an obscene amount of street lights and advertisements with huge, bright LED lettering. It would make her feel a lot better about traveling. 

Y/N keeps looking behind her, though, and when she spots someone a few meters behind her, her heart starts racing faster. She doesn’t know if he has anything to do with anything, but her brain has convinced her that he totally does. And he isn’t the same frame or stature as what she remembered Harry was, even when most of his body was hidden in all his bulky clothes. This guy wears a similar black hoodie and hat, from what she can tell. She swallows hard again, dragging her gaze ahead of herself again. She passes a couple leaning against the brick of a closed bakery, sharing a cigarette whose scent burns its way through her nose. Y/N could have stopped with them, pretended to bum a smoke off them, and see if the mysterious, cloaked in a black hoodie figure, kept moving along, but she decided against it. What if it is one of Harry’s deranged coworkers, and she gets two innocent strangers involved in her mess? Then she’d be no better than the dick fuck that got her interwoven in it. 

Clutching her phone, Y/N doesn’t spare too many thoughts about what she does next. The idea of it had popped into her head as soon as she was feeling paranoid, but it also seemed kind of crazy to do. It’s not like she could entirely trust him, either, but for whatever reason, her chances felt better with him rather than the guy behind her, all things considered. The glass on her screen has condensation from her sweaty palm as she clicks on her message thread and finds where Harry had sent her the text, right at the top. She has no clue if this is his actual number or not, but she clicks it anyway, lets it take her to the contact screen, and presses the phone icon to call. 

It rings twice before it clicks over, Harry’s voice low and a little syrupy, “Hello?” He sounded groggy, almost – had he been asleep? Y/N twists around to look behind her again, and the stranger is not holding a phone to his ear and muffling his voice at all. Both hands are still in their pocket, suspiciously, “Y/N? What’s wrong?” 

“One of your colleagues wouldn’t happen to be following me, right?” Y/N cut right to it, feeling like there was no time to beat around the bush, “Like, do you guys have a standard uniform of black hoodie, black beanie, or was that just a you thing?” 

Harry makes a noise in his throat, “I only wore that because I wanted to completely disappear into the alleyway. Otherwise, wearing all black like that can be more suspicious than anything.” Y/N thinks she can hear the sound of a mattress on the other end, or maybe a sofa. Something settling beneath the shift of weight, definitely, “As far as I’m concerned, nobody should be following you at all. I’m assigned to you as of now, since it was my fault you got involved. The others thought it’d be better to pay you off or do away with you at first, but I convinced them otherwise.” 

Her stomach turns, “Yeah, well, I don’t know if I’m being paranoid or if someone is actually following me, but I’m feeling –” scared, “--annoyed. Like, if someone is following me right now, that’s so annoying.” 

“Where are you? I’ll come get you.” 

“No, it’s fine, I just – will you just stay on the phone for a second? Until I know whether or not this is something to be panicking over?” 

Harry hums, softly, “Yes, of course,” he replies, “I’ll stay on with you until you get home, yeah?” 

She’s quiet for a second, turning to look behind her again, and her shoulders sag when she watches the guy pausing to light a cigarette, the ember glowing in the dark as he waits at the bottom of a stoop. The door opens – Y/N can hear the greeting of someone from far away, and Y/N sees a woman hook her purse over her arm as she shuts and locks the door behind her. She probably looks creepy, gawking from afar like this, but she watches them link hands and turn in the opposite direction from her. 

Y/N sighs into the phone, “Fuck,” she gives a breathless laugh, and Harry hums a little. 

“What? What is it?” 

“It was just some random guy,” she admits, turning back around and walking with a little less tension-ridden muscles than she had been, “God, who just walks around in a black hoodie with it up? It’s like – early spring, it’s nice out right now! 

“Ah, men are weird,” Harry tells her, “Reckon it’s programmed in most of them to unintentionally look like the sketchiest person when they’re just walking down the street. There needs to be a course in schools about how not to look menacing.” 

Y/N huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I – thank you, for that. Sorry to call – did I wake you up?” 

“Don’t worry about it! Really, it’s the least I can do,” he drops something on the other end of the line, and it thuds – he murmurs a cuss under his breath about a shoe, then grunts when she assumes he bends down to pick it up, “I fell asleep on the couch, yeah. I was up late last night.” 

Her mind starts racing immediately. Y/N imagines Harry in several scenarios, all in rapid succession. Him sneaking along the perimeter of some billionaire’s estate, lurking until he finds a faulty spot in the security system, and crawls through an open window. Him in some abandoned warehouse, in the middle of a shootout, where he’s hidden behind barrels of who knows what. Him on a dock, beating information out of someone, pulling off fingernails until he admits that there was a under the books deal with Friskies cat treats or something. 

“Oh, was it... work-related?” 

Would he tell her? Was he allowed to? Did someone listen to his phone conversations? Y/N is still pretty confused about what the hell it was he was doing. When she’d asked before, Harry made it sound like he was just some part-timer helping out with odd jobs, not interwoven with some sketchy crime syndicate. 

“Not at all,” he replied easily, “I got caught up watching Stranger Things and finishing out the last season. Hated how it ended, though, so then I stayed up watching video essays about it online.” 

That was. . .not what she expected. Harry is quite full of surprises. 

She laughs a little again, “Yeah, I saw a lot of people weren’t happy with it,” she scratches the side of her neck, just below her jawbone, “Alright, I won’t keep you on. I’m sorry for waking you again.” 

“No, don’t apologize, seriously. And keep me on the phone,” he added, “At least until you get home safely. Tell me about my sweet Muffy. Is she adjusting well?” 

Y/N stays on the phone with him, because honestly, she hadn’t wanted to hang up at all; she’d just been trying to be considerate. At least in this moment, in her slightly tipsy state, something is soothing about his voice on the phone. Even if this very same voice had threatened her not too long ago, his drawl is slow and thoughtful, like he’s choosing his words carefully. He listens well, asks the right questions, and does not give off ‘finance bro’ vibes at all, which is refreshing (their finance team at work is the worst, honestly, like leftover greek row alumni that wouldn’t let their fraternity days go – Niall had fucked his way through at least half of them at this point, and they all sucked. . .literally and figuratively). 

This definitely wasn’t healthy or probably appropriate,  but neither was any of this, so – she thought it was okay to use this weird dynamic for her advantage just this one time. Y/N felt safer on the phone, and Harry seemed okay with staying on it, all the way until she was in front of her door. 

“I see you made it home,” he noted, “Do you feel safe now?” 

Y/N’s brows furrowed, “How’d you know I made it home? Hey, I thought I told you not to put a camera out here.” 

“I didn’t! I just have your location, remember?” 

“Oh yeah, my bad,” she giggles again, typing in her keycode and slipping into her flat, really feeling all the tension leaving her joints and muscles the moment she locks her door, slips the bar lock closed at the top, and then uses her additional, portable door lock as a tertiary line of defense. “Yeah, I’m okay now. Thank you again for staying on the phone with me.” 

“Again, don’t even mention it,” she can imagine him waving his hands, like he’s brushing her gratitude to the side – he gesticulates quite often when he speaks, or at least he did in their brief meetings, “I’m glad you made it home safely. Give Muffy lots of kisses from me.” 

When they get off the phone, Y/N finds herself. . .kind of wishing they had stayed on. Which is crazy. She tries to convince herself that she only wishes they would’ve, so she could have poked his brain on why he thinks the CEO would have messaged her randomly tonight, but she knows that isn’t the case. Honestly, she’d forgotten all about that when they were just talking. 

Y/N had always considered herself the more well-adjusted of her friends, but she’s starting to find that hard to believe now. There’s no way a well-adjusted person would be reacting to this situation like this, she thinks. Hell, tonight was the first time she’d felt genuine fear since it all started, and she’s certain she probably should have been feeling paranoia and worry to that extent this entire time. 

But there is something about Harry and knowing that he was watching her, to some degree, that was. . .disarming, she thinks, is the word for it. Maybe it was the blatant honesty that gave her a sense of security in him, whether it was false or not. She isn’t sure, and she thinks that if she looks too deeply into it, it’ll drive her crazy. 

So she chooses to ignore it instead. Muffy greets her in the living room, and when she plucks her up, she presses kisses to the top of her head. 

                                                            .                          .                        .

Y/N is shit at bowling. 

Like, seriously, she’s the worst at it. Somehow, she gets roped into a bowling extravaganza every month by Niall, who owns his own platinum blue bowling ball that was customized to the shape of his very hand. When he’d first mentioned liking bowling, Y/N told him she enjoyed it too, but they were talking about two very different types. Y/N enjoyed the kind where you’re with your friends, silly names on the board, negging each other for bumper balls, and finding creative ways to roll the ball down the lane. Niall enjoyed the competitive, you’re against strangers, critiquing techniques, and the toe of your shoe better not cross that line type of bowling. 

Y/N found out his approach to the sport was far different than her own, and while she was imagining Niall putting a name like Monster Cock on the scoreboard and sneaking in a flask of tequila, he was wondering where Y/N’s custom ball was. She never did come clean about what she suspected, mostly because he just seemed to happy to have someone to practice with, before his competitions. Even when he found out Y/N was horrible at it, he was stoked to create a proper training regimen to help her get better. And to see the fruits of his labor when she got her first (completely accidental) strike? Y/N doesn’t think he’s ever been so proud of her. 

It makes Y/N happy to make Niall smile. For as obnoxious as he was, he was her very first friend when she started at this company three years ago, feeling battered and beaten from her last job, and coming out of a ridiculously convoluted situationship. Her first day on, the woman who trained her (who has since left the job, thankfully) ripped her a new one about how she formatted emails and her less-than-proficient use of Excel (even though use of Excel had not been on the job description and she’d even been honest with them during her interview, that she knew bare minimum and they still hired her!), and Y/N’s only option was to find somewhere to cry during her lunch break. 

There was a spot on the fourth floor that Y/N thought would be very popular among the workers there. It was set up like a cafe, almost, with a self-serve station and a basket of snacks that were routinely swapped out for new ones. They also had a microwave, a hot water spout, tea bags, and various syrups of all different flavors to mix in your coffee. There were windows, very big and slanted, that took up the entirety of one wall, which always had plenty of light pouring into it from the outside world. That’s what Y/N thought would have been the selling point to get people sitting in the booths and tables they had set up here. 

But in this particular spot, not only was the service bad, but during the extremes of weather – either very hot, or very cold – the windows made sure you felt every bit of it. On nicer days, sometimes there’s a couple of people, but enough below-freezing days and sweltering hot mornings have steered people clear of it. So during her lunch break, she charges her ass up there, finds the booth in the furthest corner, and tucks herself away to cry. It just turns out that Niall, who had only started a year before her, also storms up there to have a good cry. And when they are confronted with the other one, all teary eyes and frowning faces, because it turns out that their floor is not kind to new orientees. 

So he scooted into the seat across from her, a big pouted lip as he wiped away the tears in his eyes, “Lorraine is a huge bitch.” He tells her, sniffling, “She’s shitty with all her orientees, so don’t take it to heart.” 

Y/N nodded, knuckling at her left eye, leaving the side of her finger all wet, “And Victor has a stick up his ass, I heard he’s always too hard on new people.” She’s referring to Niall’s trainer. They both giggled, shared a muffin, and then exchanged numbers and have been in each other’s business ever since. (And Aki was trained by Y/N, who had been a year in and not feeling like an imposter too much anymore, so she made sure to give her a far better experience. Aki still cried, but that was because Y/N was being too reassuring when she screwed something up, and she’s got some intense ‘former prodigy child’ stuff to work through.) 

There are no secrets between them, not really, but keeping Niall out of the loop of Harry has been making her feel pretty guilty lately. So when Niall told her it was about time for his yearly bowling competition and he needed to start training, Y/N obviously offered to go with him. He always wipes the floor with her, but she tries her best, and they do have fun, even when Niall gets weirdly serious about her technique. 

So that’s where they are now – at the newly renovated bowling alley that was equipped with an arcade that she and Niall would definitely stop at and try to get stuffies from the claw machines. The food is pretty good here too, and after a particularly gruelling match (Niall almost doubles her score), he’ll treat her to a milkshake. They won’t actually eat the burgers like they used to because then they have all of fifteen minutes to get home before they shit themselves. 

It’s the usual crowd here on a Saturday morning. There’s a birthday party taking up the last two lanes on the left, which accounts for most of the bowlers here today. Other than about 10 kids and a couple of parents, there was a group of six people with greying hair in the classic bowling button-ups that Y/N is surprised Niall doesn’t own one of. The later into the night, the crazier and more hectic this place gets, with teenagers and tweens, because you only have to be above 12 to enter without an adult, so they run amok here. For that reason, she and Niall come bright and early when they’re all still sleeping in because no matter how much older they get, the age range of 12-17 is scary as hell, and Y/N will not be getting bullied on her day off work. 

For the quieter atmosphere, it makes it easy for Y/N to people-watch while Niall is taking his turn. It always takes him at least 30 seconds to a minute (sometimes two, if it seems particularly difficult, like two pins on adjacent sides of the lane) to decide how he’s going to throw it, so she keeps herself busy. Since the classic button-up wearers were pretty chill, just taking their turns and chatting amongst themselves, Y/N was watching the party. The kids were well-behaved, everyone politely taking their turn, and only seeming a little zany while they were sitting and waiting. One of them had a birthday crown and a sash. Two of them were dancing around in a circle, but it was confined to their area, and they weren’t very loud. Y/N would think it was a church group, but usually they all have a matching shirt. And she’s pretty sure she saw one of the adults smoking outside when they came in.

One of the adults was clearly the birthday girl’s mom, because she wore a shirt with the birthday girl’s face on it, which was quite cute. Her hair was pulled out of her face, and she was smiling pleasantly. Two of the adults were talking animatedly off to the side, one of them waving their hands, their eyebrows lifting in shock at whatever the person in front of them had said. One of them was on their phone, with a dupe LV case that Y/N only knows is a dupe because she spent an hour one night watching a video of a girl pointing out all the things that help you spot a real from a fake (like she had money to be buying Louis Vuitton in the first place – she just liked to be in everyone’s business). And then one adult was Harry, who was staring at her. 

… 

Huh. 

Yeah, there he is. He also has a shirt with the birthday girl’s face on it, and Y/N’s eyes widen – holy fuck, did he have a daughter? Were he and this lady together? Did she know that her husband and/or boyfriend and/or baby daddy was threatening people in alleyways? Did Y/N have a duty to tell her, or was she supposed to mind her business for once in her life?

She can’t stop staring, mouth falling agape. Niall’s presence is sudden beside her, and she almost screams when he starts talking, looking to her side to find his gaze already trained across from them, “Okay, what hot dad are you looking at?” 

“I’m not,” she shook her head, turning her body so that she wasn’t facing them directly, “I think we just locked eyes or something.” 

“Okay, well, you must’ve had ‘come over here’ in your gaze because he’s headed this way.” 

“What?” Y/N exclaimed, turning again to see him, and lo and behold, he was stepping over one of the kids sitting criss-cross on the ground, on his way to them. What was he doing? Wasn’t this stupid? Y/N’s pretty sure he was supposed to act like he didn’t know her, and they would go on their merry way. Doesn’t he know how bad she is at lying? 

The closer Harry gets, the nearer Y/N can see he’s already showing a dimple. “Hey!” He greets her familiarly, “Weird to run into you here.” 

Y/N opens her mouth, but Niall starts speaking before she can fumble through her own acknowledgement, “And who might you be?” He inquired, head tilting, “I’ve studied every single one of Y/N’s followers and following on Instagram, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face.” 

Harry doesn’t even seem startled by Niall, though he comes off quite strong, “Oh, I really don’t have social media,” he answers smoothly. 

“Hm. In a weird, ‘I’m better than it way’, or an ‘old soul’ way?” 

Harry seemed to chew over the thought before settling on, “In a ‘I don’t know what I’m doing with it and my pictures always come out kind of shitty’ way.” 

“Very well,” Niall likes that answer, “Proceed. Who are you?” 

“I’m Harry,” he smiles, “I – “ almost kidnapped her instead of this woman named Antoniya on that blind date you set her up with a month and a half ago, “-- know Y/N from UNI. We were in the same Psych lecture.” 

“Yes!” Y/N finally spoke, agreeing, nodding her head, because whether Harry had actually dug into her past or not, he had said the perfect thing, “You remember, Ni – I’ve talked about him before?” There was a guy she mentioned every so often, from her psych lecture, who was cute and had a pretty smile. She only mentions him because she had a wet dream about him like two years ago, but it was so filthy it stuck with her. 

Niall’s eyes went wide, “Ohhhhhh, that one? The hot guy?” Y/N forgets, though, that Niall doesn’t have a filter. And even though this is not the same man, her stomach still drops all the same when he says it, and Harry chuckles warmly. 

“I didn’t know that you – um – that you had a kid?” Y/N tries to change course before Niall can get too crazy, motioning to Harry’s shirt. 

He looked down like he’d forgotten he was wearing it, “Oh, I don’t – see?” He pointed to the star button fixed to the upper corner that says WORLD’S BEST UNCLE!! in big letters, “I’m the world’s best uncle, actually. My niece is turning 8 today.” 

That makes Y/N relax a little, her shoulders slumping when she breathes out a soft, “Oh! Right, yeah, that’s – that’s great.” And she’s happy because she isn’t spiraling that Harry has a wife and daughter that has no idea what he gets up to, but she thinks Niall mistakes the sigh of relief and the relaxed shoulders. Because, ever the wingman, he pinches her hip in the way he does before he’s about to ‘work his magic’ as he calls it. 

“So are you single or. . .?” 

“Ni!” Y/N chides him, but Harry only answers easily. He always answers questions so easily, like he doesn’t have a thing to hide. 

“Yeah, I am. Have been for longer than I care to admit.” 

Niall snorts, “I hear that,” he murmured, then motioned to Y/N, waving his hand up and down her torso, “Y/N is pretty, isn’t she? I heard that she’s really good at breaking people out of a dating slump.” 

She thinks that if anyone felt her cheeks, their fingers would be immediately set to flame and seared from how hot they burn. It’s one thing when Niall is pulling these moves out at a bar or club, and Y/N’s tipsy and actually dressed pretty. It’s another thing when she’s in a shirt three times her size and her pre-period bloat sweatpants (that were just nice enough a brown and straight-legged, so she could pass them off as actual pants), hair pulled out of her bare face, and not even a single bit of jewelry on. It probably looks like she just rolled out of bed. And if Harry wants to squash this right here right now, he’s honest enough that he could probably say something like, “Eh, she wasn’t my type then and isn’t really my type now, but there’s plenty of people out there that would like her!” Then she’d have to curl up and roll herself down the lane to crash into the pins and disappear into the bowling abyss. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Harry answers, and his tone is so sickeningly genuine, Y/N thinks she’s going to roll herself down the lane anyway, “I’ve thought that since the moment I got a good look at her. She’s far too good for me, though.” 

Something twirls and spins inside of her that hasn’t twirled and spun in a long time. There’s the reasonable part of her that reminds her he only said that to be nice, but then there’s the evil, deluded part of her. The one who thinks “to be nice,” all he had to do was agree she was pretty and move on, but he really didn’t have to say she was beautiful or anything. 

Even so, what did it matter if he thought she was beautiful? Clearly, she’s a little disturbed to feel a giddy rush through her veins when the circumstances of their meeting are the way they are, but. . .like it feels good. Harry’s cute, and his biceps are just as big as they felt wrapped around her that first night, and even though she can tell the shirt he’s wearing is supposed to be oversized, it still stretches around his chest pretty tight. Plus, he’s got this 70s porno mustache that’s doing things for her. And she has never been one who can differentiate feelings of gratitude from real feelings, so since he’s been nothing but nice to her (after the obvious), and had answered her call no questions asked when she really had no business calling him the other night. . .well, she isn’t proud to admit it, but she’d had a dream about him too. 

It was brief! Really, she barely remembers any of it – just a bleary subconscious rendezvous where he was holding her, but he was shirtless, and Y/N was gnawing at his arm. That’s all she remembered – she didn’t even see his face, but she just knew it was him from his slightly distorted voice murmuring, “You’re worse than Muffy,” all breathy, “Naughty thing.” – and she woke up confused, a little breathless, and with a weird dream crush that would eventually fizzle out if she ignored it. 

God, this is so fucked up – she’s probably so fucked up. It’s not even like she can tell anyone about it, and she thinks that would make her feel a lot better, but who the hell is she going to tell? Harry? She can’t even make a Reddit post in case he’s still looking at her search history! 

“Oh god, she’s been stunned into shy silence,” Niall pinched her hip again, “Sweet baby she is. Are you willing to write your number down for her?” 

Harry puffs a laugh through his nose, and she isn’t sure if it’s because of how forward Niall is being or because Y/N already sort of has his number, “Ah, sure,” he shrugs, “Why not? I think it’s more empowering for the guy to give out his number first, y’know? Then you don’t have to feel pressured to answer when they message you, and you can let them down easily in the event that you never text at all. It’s a win/win and much better for not getting harassed.” 

“I’d think you were being performative right now, but you have a very genuine aura and tone,” Niall clicks his tongue, “Was he like this in school? Should we be suspicious?” 

There are like a thousand things you should be suspicious of right now. “Yeah, he’s always been pretty genuine,” Y/N clears her throat, “I do think Niall is doing more of the pressuring right now, though.” 

“No pressure, just gentle guidance.” Niall has never had anything gentle about his guidance, but Y/N bites her tongue before she says anything, “My sweet Y/N is the one that got away for loads of people in the back. It’s heartwrenching, the number of suitors at her door, but she’s got high standards and doesn’t like time wasters, so tread carefully. Those she deems worthy are those who get a chance.” 

Now he’s just straight up lying, but leave it to Niall to make her seem like some desirable lady in a high court. This same tactic is actually what launched her into her last situationship, who did, in fact, waste her time. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior then,” Harry plays along easily, and for this reason, Y/N already knows that he’s on Niall’s good side. Anyone who doesn’t scurry from Niall’s generally intense demeanor always has a win in his book. Instead of sliding the number and leaving it on the table, Harry places it delicately into Y/N’s hand, his fingers stroking along hers when he passes it over. “I should get back, I reckon it’s almost my turn. I’ll look forward to your call, Y/N, if you decide I’m worthy enough. It was nice to see you,” he turns to Niall, “And it was lovely to meet you.” 

When he’s out of earshot, Y/N turns to look at Niall with wild eyes, “You are out of your mind.” 

“What? He’s cute! And you’ve been talking about that dream with him for two years unprovoked, so it’s time to get a real taste, and maybe your subconscious can finally rest.” Niall presses himself up from his seat, “Okay, no time to dawdle, we need to get back to this game. You missed my spare this last round when you were staring; it was impressive.” 

Later that night, when she’s at home with Muffy in her lap, Y/N looks at the number Harry had given her. It was different from the number he’d messaged her from before. Was this his real number? 

I’m sorry about him

Ni gets excited sometimes 

That was one way to put it, for sure. Harry answers almost immediately, though. 

Oh, don’t worry about it, he was funny 

I did a full background check on him, too, since he was the one who set you up on the date

Came back clear! He did get a ticket for jaywalking, though

Y/N blinks at her phone screen, then looks in her lap to Muffy, who is giving her that look again – one that reads, ‘Seriously, what is up with this guy,’ and Y/N can only shrug her shoulders because she has no idea. He’s so weird, and that message should scare her, but instead, it just reminds her how weird he is. And because she’s sick in the head, she actually feels a little endeared, even, by how weird he is. 

Wow, was she really this easy? Apparently, all you’ve got to do is seem pretty apologetic for holding a knife to her throat, and she practically forgives and forgets! Be nice to her a couple of times and call her beautiful? Well, hell, go ahead and do a background check on her and her friends! She’ll do you one better, and she’ll give you their fingerprints too. Would that make it easier? 

It’s messed up, but she guesses she’s a little messed up, too. Niall and Aki both have always said that she needed to be in a ‘Freak for Freak’ kind of relationship. 

But she’s getting ahead of herself. This is stupid! Harry was just playing along and having fun with Niall, that was all. There was nothing more to it, and Y/N needs to stop turning it into something. Besides, he “mostly” kidnaps people for a living, whatever the hell that means! He’d told her that himself. Y/N had no business getting anywhere near involved with something like that, even though she is already kind of halfway involved. Not for much longer, though – surely Harry could prove to his coworkers that she, without a shadow of a doubt, had nothing to do with the pet food guy and was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. So long as he doesn’t keep messaging her or something stupid, then she could just put all of this behind her. If she and Harry ran into each other in public like the universe seems keen on making them do now, they’d give each other a polite nod and be on their way. 

Her phone buzzes in her hand, and drags her eyes to the top of the screen again. 

I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable though! 

Earlier, y’know

Y/N’s fingers swiped quickly over the keyboard. 

Hahaa, not at all, that’s okay! I know you were just playing around with Ni

You’re lucky tho, usually he can spot lies from a lightyear away 

The three dots reappear almost instantly.

I wasn’t lying though

You are very beautiful

Who I thought you were is a model, and I didn’t question if you were actually her or not for a second y’know

I don’t lie about things like that!! 

Anyway, you should go to bed soon, Muffy’s vet appointment is early tomorrow morning 

Goodnight!! Let me know how it goes 

Y/N stares at her phone, and Muffy stares at her. 

As he always did, Harry watched the front lobby and held the door for residents each day. But it felt different since she had moved into Kingsley Place. In one short week, she had an extremely varied schedule. It was impossible to predict when she would come down from her apartment which only meant Harry was constantly nervous that she would randomly appear and he wouldn’t be ready. He liked the routine and predictability of his other residents so he could do his job well. She made him feel out of sorts and it constantly felt like he wasn’t doing a good job in her presence.

She came and went in and out of the building at random times between early and mid-morning. He couldn’t really make sense of it. Maybe she just didn’t have a job. That would be pretty similar to the other young residents that had money to spare and time to kill. It made Harry’s stomach twist because it just seemed so unfair that someone so pretty and lovely would never consider him in the light that he was looking at her in after the very short time he knew her.

The rational part of Harry’s brain reminded him that he could just ask her what her hours were so he could do better by her schedule and make sure she had everything she needed. But that would require his mouth to speak words to someone so pretty and sweet, and he wasn’t sure he could do that unprompted. The only thing he managed to say to her was quick pleasantries. She was in and out of the building so rapidly he barely got to say have a nice day.

God, he really just needed her schedule and then maybe he would feel better.

Harry also replayed their more private encounter over and over like a movie scene that wouldn’t leave his head. Her place wasn’t put together the way she probably wanted him to see. She soaked the elevator floor as well as the lobby floor because she was drenched head to toe from the rain. She seemed so sad and Harry thought selfishly for a very brief second that maybe she wasn’t all that different from him. It was the only time Harry felt a semblance of similarity to a resident and while he felt terrible that she was so upset, he relished the idea that maybe there was something there that they shared when he never felt like he belonged.

As if she had heard his thoughts, she exited the elevator earlier than she had any day prior since her arrival. She was wearing deep blue scrubs, comfortable sneakers, and a winter coat. Her hair was pulled back tight, and she had a bag overflowing with papers. A lunch bag dangled from her fingertip as well as a water cup. Harry’s eye caught on the shiny, circular piece of a stethoscope that spilled over the side of her bag as well.

Holy shit, is she a doctor?! All thoughts of Harry having anything in common with her flew out the window. He was a bit starstruck at the thought. She seemed almost too young. And too nice. Weren’t doctors a bit… egotistical? She was unbelievably kind for her age and had been since she walked in Kingsley Place. To Mrs. Wentworth to boot.

“Good morning, Harry,” she smiled brightly as she headed over to the front desk to chat with him.

Good God, she was pretty. Harry cleared his throat and tried to calm the pounding of his heart so she wouldn’t be able to hear it if she got closer. Did he turn the heat up in the lobby again? He wished he wasn’t wearing his suit coat.

“Good morning, 12A,” he cleared his throat again hoping he didn’t sound too eager or over the top. “D’you need anything before y’leave?”

“I’m okay thank you. I left myself enough time to stop for coffee and breakfast on my way to work.”

He nodded looking her over trying to discern what her profession was. Maybe she was a nurse? That was such an important job, maybe more important than being a doctor, but it would make a lot of sense. When she walked into the room it just felt like she was important. Or maybe Harry was imagining it. She just seemed too… young to be a doctor. “I didn’t realize... I could have had it delivered.”

“That’s alright,” she shrugged and smirked. “I’m a grown woman I can get my own breakfast.”

He could not like her this much, already. He just couldn’t. They were worlds apart even if they lived in the same building. The floors separating them were proof of that. It was a terrible idea for him to fall in love with someone so far out of his league. Yet Harry was standing there trying not to think about how unbelievably cool it was that she was capable of getting her own breakfast when he had to call for cars and food deliveries almost hourly for the other residents in the building.

“Do y’need anything?” He sounded too eager, again. “For when y’return,” he qualified quickly. He hoped there wasn’t a long enough pause for her to notice he was so out of sorts around her.

“No, I’m okay, thank you,” her smile was so sweet and Harry really, truly thought it was genuine. Not just the “you work here so I have to be kind to you.” Or maybe he was reading into it because of his own wishful thoughts.

He cleared his throat again. “Uh… what time will you be back? Can I have anything ready for you?”

“I’m still not used to that,” her smile softened somehow and Harry thought maybe he would just melt into a puddle on the floor at his desk. “No, I’m alright. I’ll be back late anyway,” she shrugged. “Probably after you get out for the day.”

“Oh,” he felt saddened by this but tried to keep that to himself. The time frame didn’t bring him any closer to a conclusion about her profession. Also, he didn’t like the idea of not seeing her again for the rest of the day. “Well, have a nice day, Miss,” he hoped he sounded sincere and not saddened by her departure.

“You too, Harry. Don’t work too hard,” she said sweetly.

Harry thought that maybe it wouldn’t matter what her job was. Maybe she wouldn’t really care if he didn’t have any money. But Harry barely knew her and he already thought she deserved more than him. It sucked even more because Harry truly loved his job. He liked spreading joy to the residents and helping take care of the building because it was also his home and he loved it.

But it was difficult with the comparisons his mind made all the time. Especially when he interacted with new-money residents (or Mrs. Wentworth). He just always felt less than around them.

Perhaps the very worst part of it all was that she really didn’t make him feel less than at all.

*

The clock read six in the evening, and she was excited that there were only two hours left. Today there was a lot of paperwork and getting to know the rest of the staff. She set up her office as best she could with what was there and tried to make it feel more like she was at home. Maybe it was the plight of the job, but it just felt dark. She would need some twinkly lights ASAP.

But the staff was nice and welcoming. It was a quiet place to work overall. Very similar to her internship and her last job before the move. Although, she’d never really heard of a rowdy medical examiner’s office, so it probably wasn’t that surprising.

She looked over the files that were left by the previous examiner and made notes to herself in case someone had questions. One of her coworkers informed her that there wasn’t tons of work. At least not like on TV. The last place she wanted to do her job was in a big city. She was only in a big city for a semester during her internship and she didn’t want to go back to that kind of emotional grueling work as long as she lived.

There was a soft knock on her door. She looked up and smiled politely.

“Sorry to bother you, just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lieutenant Davis of Major Crimes.”

She stood and held her hand out to shake his. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m hoping we won’t be seeing each other too much, but you never know.”

She nodded. “Thank you, I hope I don’t see you either,” she smiled kindly.

He chuckled. “You’re Alden’s niece, yeah?”

“Does everyone here know him?”

“He was well-liked. Quiet but kind. I won’t keep you. Just saying hi, just in case and whatnot.”

“Sure. Thanks,” she grabbed a card off her desk with her name and contact info. “Just in case.”

He smiled. “I’m going to like you,” he nodded and headed out. A lot of the interactions here were like that. Very brief, nothing deep. She hoped to get to know her coworkers a little more, but her job was a little dark so it was almost natural that the interactions would be on the colder side.

She went out for lunch and stared at her phone for the better part of an hour. She brought a book with her that she probably should have read instead of mindlessly scrolled but it was her first day and even though it was going well, she was still a bit overwhelmed and nervous.

Good luck honey! Her mom texted. But she was really the only one. Her sister and brother were probably in class so they didn’t pay any attention to her, but she felt that impending loneliness that often plagued her.

Then her mind rolled over to the cute doorman at her apartment building. His smile was so kind this morning and he didn’t mention how embarrassing she was the week before when she got rain all over the building’s communal areas. The green of his eyes haunted her (but really it was her own fault since her bedroom walls now matched the very color). She tried to steer clear of the lobby as much as possible after that day because Harry was just so unbelievably kind and sweet it unraveled her.

She was usually ignored by her family. Not in a mean way. She was confident no one loved her more than her mom, dad, brother, and sister. It was like the detective said of her uncle. She was quiet and didn’t need a lot. The cousins and aunts and uncles she spoke to at parties all loved her too; it wasn’t something she could quite place. It was just a different feeling she got.

So, when she saw Harry and spoke to Harry it was like something warm and familiar washed over that she had never felt before. It was just nice. She never wanted it to go away, and she was pretty sure she’d ruined whatever was in her head when she nearly cried in her messy apartment in front of him looking like a drowned rat.

“Hey, do you want to come see our process for an autopsy?” Brooke asked. She was technically below her, but she knew more about the office since she’d been working here for much longer.

“Absolutely,” she set aside her notes and followed her coworker. When she was younger, she never thought about the kind of doctor she’d end up being—just that she wanted to be one. It was never the plan to inspect cause of death and go over reports of suspicious nature. But she liked the thoroughness, the methodical quiet that allowed her to do her job well.

It was hard to explain; and it was why she didn’t say much about it. Only to her uncle when he asked.

She put on gloves in case she would be asked to assist and a mask as well. She tilted her neck back and forth then stretched on her toes trying to get the kink in her back out and her shoulders to crack. “Rough night?” Brooke smiled.

She sighed. “I just moved into my apartment that was left by my uncle. My bed hasn’t come yet so I slept on an air mattress. I figured it would be more comfortable, but I guess I should have opted for the couch.”

“One of the interns naps on the table,” Brooke shrugged with an awkward chuckle.

“Good lord, that’s scary,” she snorted shaking her head as she laughed quietly.

“Well, just wanted to give you a fair warning for sure,” Brooke nodded and slid the glasses on that had a light attached at the middle so she could see properly. “But the point was, he said it’s very comfortable,” she smirked.

She shook her head. “I’ll hold off for now. I have to contact the delivery company, but I was on hold at lunch for twenty minutes and gave up,” she explained. She grabbed the tray of tools Brooke would need. It was perhaps a little morbid, but it felt… peaceful to be back in a routine. Someone had to do this job, and she was good at it. So, it may as well be her.

*

She walked through the door of Kingsley Place at 8:24. Not too bad of a commute, all things considered. The lobby seemed cold without Harry standing behind the desk but she was glad he wasn’t working late. She’d seen him at all hours of the day working around the lobby. It was like he never left. She wondered where he lived if he could keep such hours. Or maybe he just needed overtime. She understood that. Until Uncle Henry bestowed her new place to her, she was drowning in med school debt. It felt like she could breathe for the first time in ages.

She was tired but felt good. It was nice to get back into the swing of things. It was nice to talk to coworkers and feel like she belonged somewhere. Dinner would be something quick; probably grilled cheese or maybe the frozen burrito she bought for a situation such as this. Maybe she would try sleeping on the couch tonight because the air mattress was simply not cutting it.

She went to the mailbox just to see if anything showed up for her. She was still getting junk mail under Uncle Henry’s name, so she wasn’t surprised when it was just more stuff for him. The ping of the elevator signaled behind her, and she scurried quickly, sticking her arm in the space before the door totally shut her out.

Harry looked at her in surprise. His shoulders heaving up and down because it was very clear that he had just finished a run. Sweat clung to the tips of his hair and a few drops rolled down the sides his wind- and cold-reddened face. He had his phone attached to an armband with his headphones wire draped around his neck. Harry wore nothing more than a thin long sleeve shirt that clung to him like it was actually capable of keeping him warm and long jogging pants that she couldn’t look at too long because it was nothing like the suit slacks he’d been wearing. And that was very okay with her. “M’heading down, actually,” he mumbled and covered his mouth with a cough as the doors closed behind her anyway.

“Oh,” she murmured. She bounced slightly as they began to descend to the floor marked with a B on the panel. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize you lived here. Or that there was a basement.” He nodded without speaking. She felt like she was intruding. “Did you have a nice run?”

“Mm,” he hummed.

She bit the inside of her lip. Maybe she was wrong after all. Harry was quite cold toward her a little more than she’d like him to be. The elevator pinged as it reached the basement floor. Harry stepped out of the elevator. “Have a nice evening, Miss,” he said quietly without looking at her.

Once more as the door was just about to close, she stuck her arm out. She dropped some of Uncle Henry’s mail and she shifted her bag on her arm once more. “Have you eaten dinner?” She called right as Harry stopped in front of a door just down the short hall. He looked at her curiously. Then he knelt to the ground (which made her think insane, crazy things with him in that position (like marriage proposals, or begging)) and he untied his sneaker to produce a key off his shoelace. She thought that was incredibly smart and just wanted to disappear into the elevator again after thinking such inappropriate things.

“S’a bit late for dinner,” he murmured.

“I was just going to make grilled cheese. Or a frozen burrito. But… I don’t know. I thought you might… maybe you could—er… never mind,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bother you. Have a good night,” she bit the inside of her lip and headed back for the elevator, so she didn’t have to look at his pretty, sweaty face any longer.

Her face burned probably as red as Harry’s cheeks with embarrassment of asking for company when he so clearly didn’t want to talk to her. “Jus’ let me shower and I’ll come up t’yours in a bit.”

She spun on her heel and saw him staring at her, the corner of his lips tipped up in a small half-smirk that would probably also haunt her dreams along with the green of her walls for the rest of her life. “Yeah?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I like grilled cheese,” he twisted the key in the lock. “See you in a minute, 12A,” his pretty voice faded away as he closed the door behind him.

*

Brilliant!

NOT brilliant Niall. This is actually a terrible idea. What was I thinking?

You were thinking she’s cute and you LIKE her.

Harry thought he could just knock on her door and say he didn’t want to keep her waiting, but he was actually really tired and he had to be up early and as much as he wanted to have a nighttime grilled cheese with her, he needed to separate himself from her or he was going to explode.

Niall was absolutely zero help in trying to keep his wants in check.

But the elevator kept climbing and Harry felt ridiculous. He wasn’t in anything close to resembling a uniform or his more formal attire to look professional. He hoped no other residents saw him. Especially Mrs. Wentworth. She would probably tell him he was going to be fired for not wearing slacks.

The elevator signaled its arrival at the twelfth floor before he could talk himself out of doing just what he said. (If he did, he’d have to sneak into the office and get her phone number and tell her he was unwell and wouldn’t be able to come up for grilled cheese. And seeing her disappointment only very briefly as she tried to talk herself out of inviting him did something crazy to his heart and he didn’t want to cause her any further grief.) He stepped into the luxurious hallway. He felt a little guilty that the hall was seeing him in regular clothes even though no one was milling about. He rapt two knuckles against the door labeled with an A as quietly as he could while still being heard. Withing just a few seconds he heard her footsteps and then the door was no longer in the way.

She changed out of her scrubs and into what he assumed she would sleep in. It felt almost a little too private for him to be there, but he couldn’t back out now. She had let her hair out of that tight tie she had had this morning, and he could only imagine the relief she must have felt from ridding it of its constriction. Her shampoo’s scent wafted from the soft-looking tendrils that looped around her face, and he wondered if he could bottle up the fragrance for himself. She looked so pretty and so soft Harry just wanted to wrap her up in him and never let go.

God, she did something wild to his brain chemistry. “Come in, I’m almost done with the sandwiches,” she gestured. Harry was grateful to get out of the hall but he wasn’t sure inside her place was going to make his mind any less fuzzy or any more coherent.

The place was a little more put together than the last time he saw it. The fridge had a few numbers on it and sticky note reminders. There were a few more pictures around the walls and there was a really pretty carpet that lay in the center of the living room.

The last thing Harry wanted to do was make this seem more romantic than it was, so he opted to stay across from her at the island. She flipped a sandwich from the pan to plate and then carefully slid it over toward him. “Do you want tea? It’s called ‘sleepytime’ so it shouldn’t keep you up or anything.”

“Uh… sure,” he nodded.

She poured it into a mug with the words Tea-riffic Mood Lifter, and he smirked at it as she passed it his way as well. Her mug said Pilates? I thought you said pie and lattes. “Do you need milk or sugar or honey or something?”

He shook his head. It was already kind enough of her to make him something to eat and he liked sugar in his tea, but he didn’t need it. And he didn’t want to make her do any more work than she already did. Surely, she wanted to go to bed soon if she was just getting home.

“M’good, darling,” he nodded and sipped the tea so he could keep his mouth from saying anything worse than darling.

She used a knife to cut her sandwich in half (diagonally, which he found very adorable). She left the knife in the middle of the island (presumably) in case Harry wanted to cut his as well. It was merely just grilled cheese, but it felt like a five-course meal that they were sharing. Harry couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. He wasn’t trying (that hard) to think that she made it with love or anything. But there was probably something to be said about that and how it tasted like the best grilled cheese he ever had. The bread was crispy and buttery and the cheese was gooey and melty.

“Is it okay?” She asked. “Sometimes I do too much cheese.”

He shook his head. “S’delicious. Thank you.”

She nodded. “How was your day?”

He blinked and tilted his head at her in surprise. Had anyone ever asked him that? His mum, sure. Maybe Niall on occasion. Even Mr. Langley probably asked every once in a blue moon. But right out of the gate, she asked. Harry didn’t even have to ask about her day first. “Uh… it was good. How was yours?”

“It was good. First day jitters and all.”

“Oh,” he took another bite. “I was… I was kind of wondering what your schedule was like. It seemed a little… random last week.”

She nodded. “Yeah, it was. It was actually awful for my brain to be so out of sorts. But I’ll have a better routine now.”

He could just ask. It was right there. But he held off. “What do you do?” He asked instead. Maybe he could just research what her hours were.

“I’m a medical examiner.”

Good grief. She was way too smart and way too important for him. “S’very impressive,” he smiled gently at her hoping he didn’t look completely devastated that she was way too cool for him.

She shrugged—she did a lot of that. “I don’t know how to say it without sounding crazy, but I do love it. It just sounds super creepy,” she explained. “We don’t have to talk about it. I don’t usually. People get freaked out.”

Harry would definitely be researching when he got back to his place. He didn’t want to be one of the people who got freaked out by her job. He wanted her to talk about it and if she was passionate about it then he would listen to her about anything. He was certain she could read a grocery list and he’d be entertained. “Well… m’not freaked out,” he chuckled. “M’jus…” he swallowed awkwardly. “M’a little embarrassed. You’re a doctor.”

She shrugged. “I am. But I don’t know why you’re embarrassed. It’s just a job.”

If Harry’s heart had vocal cords, it would have screamed. “I’m a doorman, darling. S’quite different.”

She shrugged again. “Like I said, it’s just a job.”

Harry sipped his tea and had a few more bites of his sandwich so he wouldn’t confess how in love he was with her right then and there. So instead, he asked the question that was plaguing him. “What kind of… hours do you have?”

She sipped her tea and then curled her hands around the mug like she was trying to keep her fingers warm and Harry just wanted to hold her hand and her and he was spiraling so bad from such small things it was brutal. “I work three twelve-hour days. Then a four-hour morning—but I can go in a little later on that day. I’m on call on the three days in case something extra suspicious happens. But I don’t see that happening in this little city much.” Harry catalogued her hours in his mind, so he knew when to expect her. She really needed to get to bed soon. It wasn’t even ten yet, so he didn’t feel too bad, but he didn’t want to keep her any longer than necessary. “What are you hours?” She interrupted his thoughts.

It seemed so dumb in comparison. “I uh… I work six days a week. The hours kind of vary. M’always around really. I… I like what I do, actually.”

Her smile was so beautiful it was nearly blinding. Harry had no other thoughts in his mind other than it looked how her shampoo smelled and he just wanted to bottle it up for his own personal adoration. “That’s a lot of work, Harry. I really hope you get some time to yourself to do things you enjoy. Do you always run at night?” She asked.

His heart skipped a beat. “Uh… yeah. It’s… quiet.”

She nodded almost encouragingly. Sympathetically. “I like quiet.”

He wondered if he looked insane as he shoved another bite of his sandwich into his mouth so he wouldn’t say the thought that ran through his mind for the umpteenth time. “Well, this was really delicious. Great post-run snack,” he took the final sip of his tea and moved his dishes toward the sink.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it.”

He nodded gratefully. “I don’t want to keep you. I’m guessing you have an early morning.”

She smiled sweetly. “Yeah. I do. Thanks for… for keeping me company, Harry. This was nice.”

It was really fucking nice and he wanted to crawl under a rock because it was so nice. “It was, thanks for inviting me,” he moved toward the door and she followed behind him. “See you in the morning,” he waved (so he wouldn’t do something insane like kiss her) as he headed to the elevator and pressed the button to bring him back to the basement. He looked back at her in her doorway after he boarded and thought he had never met anyone softer and prettier than her.

“Have a nice night, Harry,” her voice quietly reached him right as the elevator doors closed.

*

The following morning, she was still quite giddy about her evening with Harry. Evening in the loosest sense of the word. It was perhaps all of twenty minutes to eat grilled cheese and drink tea, but it was nice and she felt very happy that Harry didn’t mind spending time with her.

She was looking in her bag as the elevator descended and she was eagerly hoping that she would see Harry when she got to the lobby. The elevator stopped on the ninth floor. “Good morning, Miss Alden.”

She smiled at the nickname the older man had given her. “Good morning, Mr. Langley.”

He fiddled with the watch on his wrist and smiled to himself. “Off to the races today?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded once.

“It’s good to keep busy.”

She agreed completely. But the slow twenty minutes she spent with Harry last night weren’t so bad either. “Idle minds, yeah?” She remarked. He chuckled and winked at her as they arrived in the lobby.

There he was. Looking prim and proper as he always did in the lobby. But she really enjoyed his jogging outfit and even the outfit he put on to come upstairs to have grilled cheese. Harry looked great in anything. He could probably wear a trash bag and look good.

“Good morning, Mr. Styles how’s the weather this morning?” Mr. Langley asked after he gestured for her to exit before him (ever the gentleman).

“Good morning, Mr. Langley. Brisk day. Will you be home around five thirty?”

“Yes, sir,” he grinned and grabbed the coffee on the desk that was waiting for him. “Thank you, Harry. Have a wonderful day. Miss Alden, have a wonderful day as well. Don’t work too hard.”

“Have a nice day, Mr. Langley,” she waved as Harry ushered him out of the building and let the door close behind him. He shivered slightly and she opened her mouth to greet him however the elevator signaled her favorite neighbor’s arrival.

Harry grimaced and hurried to the side of the elevator. “Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth.”

“I don’t know what’s good about it. My apartment was freezing this morning.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Mrs. Wentworth. Did you contact Mr. Horan, or would you like me to?”

She hurried to her mailbox before the elevator was opened. Even though she was certain there would be nothing given she checked it late last night. But she couldn’t hold her tongue around Mrs. Wentworth and she was nervous she was going to say something she wouldn’t be able to hold back if she insulted Harry. However, her heart leapt to her throat, gasping as she saw Niall hiding in the mail alcove. He grimaced and put his finger to his lips. She plopped her bag down on the floor and stood in front of his crouched form as she busied herself with her box snagging some random papers from her bag as she did.

“I already called him,” she snapped. “He was supposed to be up before I left. I don’t know what we pay those exorbitant fees for if he’s not going to show up when I ask.”

“Perhaps he was on another call when you contacted him, Mrs. Wentworth,” Harry said delicately. “I will make sure he heads right up as soon as I see him. If the problem isn’t remedied by the time you’re due back, I’ll make sure there’s a space heater or we can investigate alternative sleeping arrangements until it’s fixed.”

How nice it would be to not see her sunshiney face for a few days if they got her into a hotel. “Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth,” she smiled kindly as she entered the mailroom. Harry stood beside her to help hide Niall as well. She could feel the warmth rolling off Harry. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket and he wasn’t even touching her. She didn’t understand how Mrs. Wentworth could even think about complaining when Harry was holding her arm.

She fiddled with the papers she had pulled from her bag and looked them over as if she really was checking the mail. Mrs. Wentworth didn’t even acknowledge her greeting. “Did Harry ever give you your umbrella back?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded. “He’s quite lovely like that, hmm?” Harry coughed awkwardly and she felt a pull on her pant leg ever so softly. She grinned brightly at the encouragement from Harry’s friend.

“Right… sure… is my car here?”

“I believe so, Mrs. Wentworth,” Harry nodded and held his arm out for her to take once more.

He glanced over his shoulder as he did and mouthed thank you.

As soon as her nagging voice disappeared Niall stood. “Well, thank you, darling,” he brushed his hands on his legs. “I simply cannot talk to her before I have coffee or a beer.”

She giggled. “Happy to help.”

“Thanks for complimenting Harry too; he gets a little in his head around her. Forgets he’s good at his job.”

“I don’t blame him,” she nodded. But that was pretty easy to do as well.

“Guess I better go figure out her heat before she gets back.”

“I don’t know how her rage doesn’t keep her warm… but not for nothing, it’s probably the pilot light. Mine went out too. I had to relight it the other night.”

He blinked at her. “You relit it?”

“Yeah, it happened at my parents’ house all the time. It’s an older furnace or whatever.”

“But you didn’t… call?”

“Well no. I mean it’s an easy fix,” she shrugged. “Was I not supposed to?”

“No…no! It’s your place. You can… you can do whatever you want. I’m just surprised. But thanks for the tip, darling.”

They left the mailroom and returned to the lobby at the same time Harry did. “That woman is crazy,” Niall grumbled.

Harry sighed heavily. “Thanks for the help, darling,” he returned to his desk and scribbled something down. She wondered what it was. Or maybe he was just writing I Hate Mrs. Wentworth a hundred times. She wouldn’t blame him.

Niall chuckled under his breath, and she wondered if his friend knew something that she and Harry did not. “Course, no problem.” Harry went into the office behind the desk and she turned to Niall. “Where do you get your coffee from?” She asked.

“The little shop at the corner is my favorite around here,” he offered. She nodded. She liked it too. She figured a lot of the residents did—especially since it was so close. But it was helpful info.

“M’going t’get the space heaters out of storage,” he murmured and headed to the elevator with a ring of keys on his fingertip. “Have a nice day, Miss,” he nodded to her quietly.

“Harry likes the coffee shop too,” Niall said knowingly as they watched the elevator descend to the basement. Niall pressed the button once it stopped so he could head on up to Mrs. Wentworth’s place.

She smirked, moving toward the door. “Good to know.”

“Have a nice day, Miss,” he winked.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Horan.”

*

Harry brought the space heaters right on up to Mrs. Wentworth’s apartment. Niall left the door open and even though it was perfectly reasonable for him to enter, he didn’t want to. It felt like going into a lion’s den without a weapon. “I’m afraid you might have gotten that for nothing. Seems that your cute little crush was right. It was just the pilot light.”

“She… what?”

He chuckled. “She’s a really cool person,” Niall nodded approvingly. “I think you’ll make a very happy couple once you grow a pair.”

Harry glared at his friend and stalked off to the elevator once more so he could return the space heaters.

They would not make a cute couple. She was way too cool and way too important for Harry. She had money and time and energy. Harry was lonely and boring and there was nothing he could do to remedy the situation. He was still grumbling to himself when he returned from the basement once more to his desk.

On top of the calendar sat two coffee cups and a small bag that contained two blueberry muffins. A ripped half page from a lined notebook was tucked beneath the corner of the bag.

Have a nice day, Mr. Styles :) He flipped the note over to see if there was anything else.

And Mr. Horan too ;)

--

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Harry was jealous. Just plain, old, green-monster jealousy. Tried and true.

It took him a lot to admit that but, in the end, he knew that’s what it was and there was no getting around it. It wasn’t her fault. She was simply his favorite person in the world, and he just didn’t want to share her with anyone. He had waited so very long to have someone like her in his life. Someone who knew all the bad parts of him and loved him anyway.

He was selfish and wanted her all to himself.

Selfish and jealous.

But the worst part, the absolute worst part of being jealous…

He was jealous of Kian Calloway of all people.

The way she giggled at Callie made his stomach knot. When he smiled at her while she spoke (like he was actually listening and not just picturing her naked) he felt his blood pressure spike. If Harry even thought about him actually picturing her naked then he might have already “accidentally” killed one of his best friends.

She warned him. That he would feel this way. And he knew she’d be right. She was right about everything. All the time. It wasn’t even irritating. It was a calming constant to know that his sweet, lovely Rookie just had it all together. Like she was true north on a compass. Always pointing where to go and he didn’t have to worry about anything else.

But he really hated that she was right this time around.

“Rookie?” He called. She was entranced by her phone. Completely preoccupied. He was almost jealous of the piece of plastic, metal, and glass just as much. But it wasn’t just the phone. He was jealous of who was at the other end of her enchantment with her cell. He turned on his stool in front of the kitchen island where he was eating an English muffin with avocado that she made him. She stood across the island nibbling at her toast with jam. There was a clementine that Harry peeled for her and she bit into a slice while she ignored him while smiling at whatever dumb fucking thing his best friend said. He didn’t even have to ask who she was texting. He already knew. Because they had been texting more and more frequently. For hours at a time.

God, Harry hated Callie. “Kitten, love?” He called a little louder.

“Oh, sorry baby,” she put her phone aside and turned to him with a sweet smile so unbelievably beautiful he couldn’t stay mad at her even if he wanted to—and he wasn’t mad at her, not even a little. He just didn’t want her to be happy without him in her life. And if Callie could make her happy…“I was just checking with Callie if he wanted to hang out tomorrow. Is that alright with you?”

And what was he supposed to do? Say no? She already talked about how she had no friends. How Kael isolated her from her friends and family and everything under the sun that was so awful he couldn’t put it into words. If he said no, how would he be any different than her ex? Because he was jealous? He wasn’t even remotely worried about Callie taking her from him, he just wanted to shower her with love and attention. He didn’t want someone like Callie, who didn’t have the reputation with women that Harry had, to remind her of just that.

So, Harry swallowed his pride and ignored the green monster invading his head and bloodstream. “Yeah, course. Y’don’t have t’ask, Rookie.”

Because she didn’t. She was allowed to do whatever she wanted. As long as she was happy. Harry just really hated that her happiness included spending time with Callie for any length of time. “Harry,” her voice was gentle. Like she was going to talk someone out of a fight. Maybe Harry was thinking of it. He looked up at her and smiled encouragingly.

“Mm?” He hummed.

“I don’t have to hang out with him if you don’t want me to,” she held his gaze confidently. Like she could see the little monster that was infecting him as if he was coming down with the flu.

“Y’can hang out with him,” he knew he sounded stiffer than he wanted to. “Y’really don’t’ have t’ask, kitten.”

She nodded, still disbelieving. Clear on her face.

“Well tomorrow after I get home, we can go to dinner, or watch a movie, I’ll make dessert if you want,” she offered. She moved around the island and slid between him and the counter gently pushing his plate away so she wouldn’t get hair in his food. It warmed Harry a bit more because she was locked between Harry and his seat. He wasn’t sure there was anything prettier than her being this close to him.

He was trying. But his smile definitely wasn’t as bright as he hoped because she still had a (pretty) slight pout on her lips. “You mean you’ll be dessert?” He asked cutely. He wrapped his hands around her back and slid them into her pockets. He pulled her closer between his thighs, and she dropped her forehead to his.

Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “If you think I’m dessert worthy,” she smirked.

He chuckled and pressed his lips softly over hers. His whole body tingled and he thought he couldn’t love someone so much. “You’re the sweetest, Bunny. I could eat you up every day.”

*

“Sweetheart, you hung out with Callie yesterday?” Niall asked. She was standing off ice looking at her camera but checking the lighting with random shots for the new posters that needed to be made for the team.

She nodded almost sullenly. Harry felt his chest tighten a bit. She was gone for a good number of hours, but it felt like weeks while he waited for her to return. “Yeah… we got mani-pedis.”

“What color did you get?” Lang rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t get a color obviously, dickhead,” Callie rolled his eyes. “You guys should try it. It felt like magic. I might go back again next week.”

Asher snorted. “Are you taking her with you or are you going alone?”

“I don’t know; do you want to go again, Sweetheart?” Callie asked.

Harry skated to the other end of the ice and tried to slap the puck into the back of the net as hard as he could. Fortunately for him, it missed. It reverberated off the boards so loudly. It made a piece of the tightness in Harry’s chest crack with the anger he felt as it ricocheted off the wall.

“I usually keep my manicure for more than a week,” she shook her head with an eye roll. Her gaze turned to number eleven at the other end, and she watched him collect the pucks and send them back in the direction of the rest of the team. Niall stopped a few and glanced at her with a knowing smile.

She sucked her lip into her mouth and placed her camera on the bench and slid onto the ice on her skates and headed toward Harry. “Hi,” she skidded to a stop unsteadily. Harry caught her arm instinctively and she smiled kindly. “Nice catch.”

“You are,” he mumbled with a smirk.

She felt her stomach flutter. Harry flirted with her openly for months before they actually started dating and somehow the tiny little compliment, (not even an innuendo that he used to give her or still said when he wanted to make her horny), made her cheeks warm.  “Are you okay?”

“M’fine. Is it my turn?” He asked.

“Baby,” she pouted.

“M’fine Rookie. Jus’ a little tired. Want to go home.”

She nodded. She had a shift at The Locker Room. So, Harry would be alone. That didn’t bode well for him. She could tell he was upset. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, kitten.”

“Okay, baby,” she bit the inside of her lip. “Do you want a kiss?” She asked.

He dropped his stick and yanked his helmet off. His hair curled around his face with sweat, and he was a little red from the cold. He was so pretty it made her stomach twist. “If I ever say no t’kissing you, Bunny, put me out of m’misery.” He tugged a glove off with his teeth and let it fall beside his stick. He quickly put his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her in to kiss her.

She giggled while he kissed her, which made him smile against her lips. It felt more genuine and normal right then than it had over the last week. If he could just get her to stop hanging out with Calloway for a while, he’d feel even better.

“Styles, if you don’t get your filthy hands off my niece I’m benching you for the rest of the season!”

Harry pulled away slowly, pecked her lips two more times and he winked at her. “Worth it,” he grabbed his glove to put it back on.

“It’s my fault Uncle Charlie. He’s just so cute, you know?”

“No. I don’t. Aren’t you supposed to be taking pictures?”

She pouted. “You’re not supposed to pick on me! Pick less hotter players!” She grabbed Harry’s gloved hand so he could help her skate back to the rest of the team.

“Did you hear that, Coach? She thinks I’m hot,” Callie grinned excitedly at her uncle. Harry felt his blood boil once more and before he realized he reacted, she was putting her other hand over his where he squeezed too tight.

“Must be where I get my good taste in men, huh, Uncle Charlie?” She giggled and grabbed her camera and then returned to the ice. She moved Harry to the center of the ice and positioned him just so. “You’re my favorite though, don’t tell the others.”

“I think they know, Rookie,” he chuckled as she snapped photos of him.

“That I’m obsessed with you?”

His smile grew a hair, and he shook his head as he moved his stick around back and forth hoping it looked natural to her. “Yeah,” he hummed. He liked that. That she was obsessed with him. Liked that she said it. Because he was obsessed with her.

“I love you, Harry Styles,” she reminded him as she skated closer, kissed him quickly, and then blinded him with a flash of her camera one more time. She giggled cutely and Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved her gently but never released her from his arms since he couldn’t see where he was shoving her.

“Do we all get to kiss you?” Asher asked.

“Not if you value your life,” Charlie grumbled.

“Agreed,” Harry smirked and kissed the side of her head once more before swapping his position with Niall.

*

She knew Harry was jealous. Really jealous. She appreciated him trying to pretend he wasn’t, but she wasn’t fooled by how he was feeling.

I’ll be home soon 😘

Okay

I love you Harry Styles 🥰

I love you too Rookie xo

She pouted at her phone and looked at Callie. “The poor thing is so jealous of you,” she sighed and stuffed her phone in her pocket.

Callie chuckled. “Good, I’m jealous of him.”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, I’m beyond trying to steal you from him.”

“Callie, that was literally never an option.”

“No need to break my heart,” he flicked her cheek. They were sitting at a high-top counter eating lunch next to each other. Callie had a hat on, and he hoped no one would notice him. She couldn’t imagine what the magazines and paparazzi would have to say about Harry’s girlfriend getting lunch with his best friend.

They’d gone to the party store, the bakery, and the restaurant where they would have the party. Harry had no idea. He assumed they were just hanging out like they had been over the last few days so as not to give anything away. Unfortunately, it made him very grumpy and frustrated. Therefore, she tried to keep their hanging out to a minimum. The mani-pedis they got the other day was the longest length of time and she wasn’t convinced Harry would forgive her.

“I love Harry so much Callie, it’s disgusting.”

“It is disgusting.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

“Good one,” he scoffed and bit into his sandwich.

“He doesn’t have any idea?”

“I don’t think so. I think he’s actually feeling really bad about us hanging out so much,” she pursed her lips as she sipped her lemonade. Callie sighed.

“He’s not really used to this whole girlfriend thing.”

“I don’t think it helps I dated his mortal enemy for a while.”

“Yeah, what did you see in that guy, Sweetheart? Like Harry’s bad enough,” he joked. She shoved his arm.

“You’re friends with Harry.”

“I know,” he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. “You guys are ridiculous about one another. You wouldn’t even know you like each other.”

He chuckled and snagged one of her fries from her plate. “He’s really in love with you,” Callie smiled knowingly. She grinned to herself, feeling a little warm and embarrassed.

“I know.”

“I know you had some reservations about Harry, but you have nothing to worry about,” he smirked.

She smiled a little brighter. “I know.”

“Now you just have to help me find someone,” he winked. “Maybe if you have a friend who is just like you,” he suggested.

She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t have friends,” she shook her head. Callie frowned, draped an arm around the back of her chair and sighed.

“Well, you have me. Until Harry kills me anyway.”

“I won’t let him kill you.”

“I don’t know, Sweetheart. I don’t think you realize exactly what Harry would do for you.”

She smiled again and sipped her drink while ignoring Callie’s teasing once more. I’m heading to the store; do you need anything?

No, just you 😘

You already have that, Bunny.

“Ahh, I’ve been gone too long he’s calling me bunny,” she smirked.

“Ugh, he’s sickening. I swear I barely know him anymore. In the best way. You’re the best, Sweetheart,” he kissed the top of her head chastely. “Do we need anything else before I bring you home? I know you were worried about the away trip getting in the way of planning.”

“I think we’re good,” she consulted the list on her phone once more to double check she and Callie had gotten to everything. Niall was in charge of getting Harry’s mother and sister from the airport. She was very nervous about the day of—worried getting Harry to the restaurant without blowing the secret was going to be next to impossible.

“Then let’s get you home to your boyfriend,” he grabbed her bags with one hand and placed a hand on her lower back to guide her out of the restaurant. “You’re the coolest girlfriend for doing this by the way. He’s very lucky to have you.”

“The feeling is really very mutual,” she smiled knowingly.

*

On the plane ride home, she and Callie were having a giggle fit. Every time it seemed to stop, it restarted because neither of them could hold it in. One of them would think about whatever it was that was so funny, but they wouldn’t share what it was. She had a hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes, and she was shaking as she tried to stop. Harry couldn’t get a straight answer as to why it was happening.

Callie kept snickering, clapping like a seal, hiccupping, and restarting the laughter all over again every time she snorted. She tucked her face into Harry’s chest, and he felt absolutely miserable as they had their inside joke between them.

“My cheeks hurt,” she gasped and pressed her hands to her face to quell the pain. Had she ever laughed that hard because of Harry? He wasn’t sure. God, it really felt like he was losing her and it was so ridiculous of his mind to play such an evil trick on him. She fanned her eyes. “Sorry, baby,” she giggled softly once more.

“Sweetheart—” Callie began, his breath mostly laughter and air.

“I’m not speaking to you for the rest of the flight,” she shook her head and looked at Harry as he faced forward stoically. His hand rested on her lap; his eyes fixated on the little screen on the back of the seat in front of him with some movie he didn’t see the beginning of and hadn’t a clue what was going on.

“Did they stop?” Asher called.

“Oh, don’t make them start again,” Niall groaned.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m not speaking to Kian for the rest of the trip.”

“Who?” Almost everyone on the plane answered instinctively. She shook her head and looked up at Harry’s stoic expression. “You alright there, baby?” She whispered quietly.

He nodded, slipped on his headphones, and tilted his head back against the seat. She frowned, squeezed his hand in her lap and glanced out the window.

“Sweetheart, do you have snacks?” Lang asked. She nodded, reached beneath her seat for her carry on and dug out the snacks she had buried beneath her spare outfit in case of an emergency. Harry exhaled loudly and she pouted more.

“Baby?” She asked.

“M’fine, kitten. Jus’ tired.”

She nodded, grabbed the plane blanket in her bag that she used for travel and draped it over herself and she looked at Harry expectantly. “Do you want to share my blanket?” She asked.

Harry sighed heavily. Almost like he was irritated with her. Maybe he was. She felt terrible, but she really hoped all her secrets would be worth it. She tucked herself toward Harry; rested her head against his chest. “I love you, Harry Styles,” she reminded him quietly.

He didn’t say anything for a moment; his hand rubbed along her hip bone. Then he kissed the top of her head, his lips rested against her temple. “I love you too, Rookie.”

*

Everyone is here.

Niall sent the text about half an hour ago and she was planning to leave in the next few minutes. Harry was quiet and sour. He felt terrible and she knew it was her fault but she really hoped it would be worth it and that he wouldn’t be upset.

But she was very wrong.

“Kitten… I don’t… I don’t really feel like going out tonight,” he was already dressed, he was sitting on the sofa and rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Oh, please Harry! It’s your birthday! It will be fun!” She smiled hoping she didn’t sound too eager or excited to leave. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil the surprise. Just a few small fibs to make his day special. “Just the two of us you know? A quick dinner. I promise.”

“But s’my birthday and if s’jus’ the two of us, can’t we stay here? I feel like ‘ve not even seen you lately,” he reminded her with a mumbled, forlorn look.

She frowned. “I was with you almost exclusively for the last seventy-two hours.”

“Yeah, but it was a whirlwind and… I don’t know. I missed you. S’hard on an away trip. When we were home y’were busy working and busy with Callie…” His friend’s name tasted like vinegar in his mouth.

She blinked, took a deep breath, hoping for the best. “Harry, I’d really like to take you out to eat and spoil you. You spoil me all the time I just really want to return the favor.”

“Well… can’t we do it another night? I’d really rather jus’ be spoiled with a movie and kisses,” he muttered.

She stared at him for a moment. He swore he saw her swallow hard, like she was trying to keep from crying—he’d seen it before. But Harry couldn’t possibly understand why. All he wanted was to lay in bed and hold her close until it was too warm. Before he could read into her saddened look, she replaced it with her pretty, genuine, lovely smile that warmed him to his core. “Of course, baby. It’s your birthday,” she took a deep breath. “Just let me get changed into something comfy. You pick a movie,” she leaned down to press a kiss on his cheek and then she headed to the bedroom.

Harry was still a little upset and uncomfortable. He didn’t know why she didn’t want to spend the night in. They loved their nights in together. It was so much fun to make out with her until his lips hurt and giggle over silly movies. It just seemed so unfair she wasn’t happy with him.

Within minutes of her exit, Harry was scrolling to find a rom-com, and his phone started to ring and of course, of course, it was Callie. “I was wondering if y’were going t’call t’wish me a happy birthday or if y’were jus’ going t’ask m’girlfriend t’relay the message,” he mumbled, irritation thick in his voice.

“Why aren’t you going out to eat with her? She was really looking forward to it,” he said instead of saying happy birthday to his so-called best friend.

Harry felt his blood bubble in his veins. Somehow all his blood felt like ice and hot lava was coursing through him at the same time. “She called you?” In the mere three minutes she left the room? Was it that unbearable, that insufferable to spend time with Harry suddenly that she had to call Kian Calloway to complain about it?

What the fuck?

“Yeah, because—”

“What the fuck is your problem Calloway?” He snapped. He stood up and paced. If they were on the ice, Harry would have had a hard time keeping himself in check. Asher would have probably intervened and shoved them apart. Niall would have held him back too.

“My problem? Harry you’re—”

“You’ve been all over her for over a week. She’s been texting you nonstop and talking ‘bout you nonstop. What is that? She’s my girlfriend and m’sick of it. She won’t leave me for you if s’what you’re thinking and I’d sooner kill you than let that happen. She seems t’think she can’t do better than the likes of your friendship but do me a fucking favor as your friend and jus’ back off.”

“Jesus Christ Harry, you’re so fucking stupid it’s a miracle she’s with you in the first place,” he growled over the phone. “Did you think that maybe, just maybe your angelic, perfect, sweet, girlfriend that you claim to love so much is throwing you a fucking surprise party to celebrate you?”

It was like all the pieces of a puzzle Harry didn’t know he was putting together slammed into place. Of course. Of course.

God he was an idiot. Harry closed his eyes so hard he thought his eyelids might burst open from the sheer force. His stomach dropped like he was on a roller coaster. He sat almost immediately on the arm of the couch and took a deep breath. The pugnacious feeling he had seconds before dissipated into nothingness. He glanced down the hall to see if she was still in the bedroom and, or, if she had heard him talking at all. “No…” he shook his head. “Fuck,” he whispered. “No, I didn’t think of that at all.”

“You have some fucking nerve, Styles. I would never do that to her. While I do love her, more importantly, I love her for you. And even though you clearly are going through it, you’re my best friend. Even if you’re a fucking dick.”

“Ah…” he winced and pinched between his eyes wondering how he could have been so blinded by jealousy to not see it coming. Of course it made sense. So much more sense than Callie trying to weasel his way into their relationship. “Yeah…” now he had a headache for an entirely new reason, and it was his own bloody fault.

“Will you just get fucking down here please? And acting fucking surprised, asshole.”

“Yeah… yeah, be there soon,” he mumbled and rubbed his hand over his face again. He hung up the phone and hurried down the hall to the bedroom. He knocked on the door and tried to think fast on his feet how he could get the evening back on track. “Kitten, y’okay?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah… just a second.”

“Rookie,” he tried to open the door, but it was locked. “I was thinking it over and I was kinda rude. If y’still want t’go out, I’d really like to.”

There was a sniffle behind the door and Harry thought that maybe he should just leave the house and walk straight into oncoming traffic. Who needed a birthday when he upset the love of his life? “We don’t have to,” she said softly.

“Bunny, open the door, please,” he begged jiggling the handle slightly. It was very quiet for a second and then the metallic click of the lock echoed loudly between the walls. Harry pushed the door out of the way and he frowned. The poor thing looked distraught. “Oh Bunny, m’sorry,” he frowned and wrapped her up in his arms quick.

“No, it’s okay,” she sniffled and tried her hardest to keep the tears at bay, but Harry knew it was hurting her more than she could describe. “I should have asked what you wanted to do. It wasn’t fair of me—”

“No, no s’not okay, kitten,” he murmured and kissed the side of her head. “Y’were trying t’do a nice thing for me and I ruined it. M’being a proper idiot. Y’look so pretty all dressed up and m’being selfish,” he rubbed up and down her back. “And now I made y’upset, s’jus’ not nice,” he cupped behind her neck and kissed her temple again. “M’really sorry, Bunny. I hope y’can forgive me.”

She snorted. “You don’t have to be forgiven, Harry… it’s just…” she swallowed. “I just thought that we could—”

He didn’t want to spoil that he knew about the surprise. “Rookie, m’sorry. Please let me jus’ fix it. Let’s go out.”

“Kian called you, didn’t he?”

How she didn’t hear him screaming at his friend on the phone was a mystery. He pressed his lips together and was silent for a minute. She didn’t speak either. After he paused, he pulled her away from him and held her at arm’s length. He smiled gently at her, cupped the sides of her face and kissed her softly. He slid his thumbs across her cheeks brushing the tears out of the way. “I don’t know who that is,” he murmured. She giggled, a little tearily, but definitely happier. “Jus’ take your time t’fix your pretty make up that I ruined and we’ll go, yeah?” He asked.

She nodded. “You’re sure?”

“I shouldn’t have been so selfish, kitten. M’sorry.”

She shook her head. “I just wanted to surprise—”

“Shh, baby. I’m sorry. I was a jealous, hot-headed mess. M’jus’…” he sighed. “I think you’re the best thing s’ever happened t’me and I’ve done a lot of not-so-great things in relationships. I need t’be better. Y’mean everything t’me and I’d be lost without you, kitten.”

She smiled. “It’s your birthday, I’m supposed to compliment you a lot.”

“Rookie, y’have no idea how special you are t’me. I never need a compliment as long as I live.”

“Well,” she shrugged and headed back into the bathroom. “I’m still going to give you a million today.”

He smirked. Relieved she wasn’t in love with his friend. Relieved that the jealous little monster inside him realized how ridiculous he was being so he could celebrate his birthday with the prettiest, perfect woman he loved so much. “That’s why you are the best part of me, Rookie.”

--

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Her new apartment was a spacious two-bedroom with stunning hardwood floors and two bathrooms with tiles that had copper pipes beneath them to keep her feet warm in the middle of winter. The sitting area was large with a TV that blended into the wall like it was a framed picture. Everything except the master bedroom was furnished beautifully. There was a dining room table that seated eight for what seemed like no reason.

It was her mom that helped clean out the apartment and go through Uncle Henry’s things with her other siblings. (It was how she figured out her uncle re-furnished several months before he passed.)  Part way through cleaning, the siblings realized that the apartment was to be left to her as designated by Uncle Henry’s will.

From that point, cleaning was also an investigation. Her mom looked for clues trying to figure out why Henry left it to his niece. At the end of the cleaning spree, she was no closer to a reason. There was still no explanation. Just a line in his will to receive the living space. She was his niece, his goddaughter, sure. But they weren’t that close. It was never spoken about. It just seemed very out of the ordinary.

The siblings took some items after cleaning; things that had sentimental value. Décor that her mother knew wasn’t her style. The living room furniture stayed; a long, warm brown couch that felt comfortable enough to sleep on in a pinch. A pair of armchairs settled into the cozy nook near a picture window overlooking the street. The appliances in the kitchen and the small laundry closet, of course, were all state of the art. The only furniture they had to move out (and subsequently she would need to move in) was the master bedroom set—it seemed a little odd to keep something so personal to her departed uncle.

Unfortunately, (and perhaps just her luck) her new set wouldn’t arrive for a few days.

That meant she was sleeping on an air mattress until it’s arrival. Her suitcase would be her dresser until further notice. The mirror that was supposed to rest on her dresser was leaning beside the bedroom window. If needed, she would have to do her hair and makeup on the floor in front of it.

It was no secret; the apartment was big. Really big for one person. She wished she knew more about her uncle. But didn’t everyone? He was the oldest of her mom’s siblings and her mom was a good bit younger than him. It wasn’t out of the ordinary that he passed away but she wished she got to know him more. He was her godfather—but really only in name.

She spoke to him on his birthday. Chatted with him at family parties. Messaged him once or twice a month to stay on top of things and feel like she was doing her part of being a good niece and goddaughter. He was a quiet man never spoke much of himself or what he was up to. Always asking about her instead. He liked to keep to himself (clearly). It was unbelievably kind of him to leave his place to her. There were plenty of other cousins he could have gifted it to. Maybe one of her cousins that he was closer to (she didn’t really know who he was closest to). Hell, he could have given it to one of her aunts or uncles so they could make extra money.

But for some reason, Uncle Henry chose her.

While she loved the beautiful apartment, she still needed to make a list of things she wanted to consider fixing up. There wasn’t much. The place was renovated within the last ten years—or so she’d been told. But Uncle Henry kept all the walls white, and it felt a little too… clinical. She wanted to add some color as quickly as possible. So perhaps it was for the best that the furniture was delayed—there would be less in the way when she painted.

The feng shui she would need to perform once her bedroom set arrived was a must. She wanted to bring in a large carpet beneath the coffee table. And bookshelves. Uncle Henry didn’t have nearly enough. She needed to get new kitchen utensils—Henry had a service set for four. Kitchen tools as well—she wondered if Uncle Henry cooked for himself or if he ate out most nights. She couldn’t find a can opener nor a potato peeler. His lifestyle was as hidden as the clues he didn’t leave for her.

She wanted to add softer lights into the space too. The recessed lighting was great, but again, it was too clinical and she wanted it to feel more homey. She added to her list and then broke down another box that she had finished emptying. It felt like she had been unpacking for a week (it had only been three or so days). Her back ached (probably not helped by sleeping on the air mattress).

In making her list over the last couple days, she looked all over the place, checking drawers for hidden compartments like she was living in a fairy tale. Maybe her aunts, uncles, and mom missed something. But in the end, it seemed they were correct. There was nothing to give her a reason as to why she was there.

How’s the new place? Her mom texted.

So far so good.

:) When do you go back to work?

Next Monday.

Enjoy your time.

Hopefully by then at least her new bed will be in place. Even if it was just the mattress. She’d sleep on it with it just on the floor if necessary.

She headed back to the living room and sat on the couch and looked around once more. It felt a little odd and uncomfortable being there. Like it wasn’t really her place. It would take some time to get used to—to make it her own.

But it was a new city, new job, new place…

It was a whole lot of new.

There was no time like the present to start making it feel like home.

She pulled her hair up and twisted the elastic at the back of her head. She placed a warm, fleecy headband over her forehead, so it would cover and keep her ears warm. The temperature said it was cold out and if she was lucky, she was just going to walk to the closest hardware store and maybe a couple other close-by stores. She also grabbed her umbrella because the weather said it would rain in the afternoon, and she didn’t want to take a chance it if it was going to start early.

She slid her coat on and noted in her phone that she would really like a coat rack too—whether she hung it up on the wall or it was freestanding she hadn’t decided yet. Grabbing her keys, wallet, and the small cart that would make it easier to carry paint cans back to her place, she set out.

The elevator felt like it was taking a while to make it to the ground floor but maybe she imagined it. She’d have to ask someone at some point. Maybe Niall if she ran into him. She needed to ask Harry how the process of asking for maintenance help worked.

On the ninth floor she was pulled from her thoughts of Niall and Harry. Someone new was joining her. The man was older; looked like he could have been her uncle’s age. She wondered if he knew Henry. He looked her over curiously. She was sure she looked a little odd with her cart and dressed a little differently than the luxurious apartment dwellers he was probably used to. Even her brief interaction with Mrs. Wentworth made her notice she was dressed to the nines for an older woman.

“Are you Henry’s niece?” He asked, jumping right in.

She cleared her throat. “Yes. I just moved in.”

“I’m Arthur Langley, it’s nice to meet you,” he held his hand out. She shook it carefully, like she was doing something wrong still. It felt like she was doing something wrong. She knew her extended family had money—even her parents did well, but Arthur Langley looked like another world of wealth.

“Nice to meet you,” she nodded politely.

“What do you think of our humble manor?” He asked with a kind smile. She felt a little less uncomfortable. She thought he might really be as sweet as he looked and not money-hungry.

She chuckled quietly. “It’s not really what I would call humble.”

He grinned. “It’s a lovely place. I’ve lived here for a long time. It’s special. I know Henry really wanted you to have his place. It meant a lot to him.”

She blinked, surprised to hear the first clue ever of her new life on an elevator while she was pulling a wagon. “Really?” She asked quietly.

“Well sure, he talked about his favorite niece all the time.”

That piqued her interest even more. She tilted her head. “Really?”

He nodded. “He was a great man your uncle. I figured it must really be you, you guys have the same smile,” he shrugged. “Have a great day,” he said as they reached the bottom floor. “Good morning, Mr. Styles. How’s the weather?” He headed across the lobby to Harry’s desk.

She was so stunned by the clues Arthur so casually spoke; she was lucky she remembered to move her feet. The elevator surely would have closed on her if it wasn’t for Arthur saying Harry’s name.

In the entire time Uncle Henry lived at Kingsley Place, he failed to mention that his doorman was hotter than the surface of the sun. Arthur was only able to pull her attention away from knowing even the smallest tidbit of info from her uncle because he said Harry’s name.

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest and sat as tribute at his feet in hopes he would look at her for longer than a minute. When she met him, she noted his distrust and worry—she wondered if he thought she would be like all the other rich people he met. His judgment was unfair, but she understood it.

Perhaps, because he was so unbelievably cute, she was willing to give him a pass on his judgment as well. Harry was tall, not quite lanky, but not overly muscular either. He was dressed professionally. A button down, a tie, slacks, and a jacket (it wasn’t any different than any other young professional working in a financial business). His curly hair was styled neatly around his head, and she just wanted to dig her hands into it and mess it up. His eyes were wide when she met him. Mostly because he was arguing with an angry, old, bitter woman and her cranky attitude and she had just accused Harry of stealing from her. But because of that, it meant that when she arrived at the hardware store, she would be asking for the very shade of green that she memorized the second she made eye contact with him. Maybe there would be a golden yellow in her future as well, for the small flecks of gold that sparkled in his irises because of the cold, January sun.

“12A? Hello?” Harry waved his hand in front of her face. She felt stunned and her mind asked herself silly little questions. How long was he standing in front of her? How long was he trying to get her attention? What kind of cologne was it that wafted over her as he waved his hand in front of her face? Did Harry have a tan in the dead of winter?

“Miss Alden?” Arthur’s voice broke through a little more clearly. Maybe because he was older and she felt like if she didn’t answer him, she’d get in trouble.

She shook her head quickly. Was there a flash of relief on Harry’s face? “I’m sorry?” She wondered how long she had been thinking about Harry’s eyes in the middle of the lobby.

“You better move out of the way, Mrs. Wentworth is due any second,” Mr. Langley smirked.

“Oh. Right.”

She stepped away from the elevators, dragging her cart behind her and hoping to God she didn’t piss off the old woman. “Is your name Alden as well?” Arthur asked making sure the newest resident wasn’t having an episode. Harry eyed her worriedly as she sat on one of the comfy chairs nearest the pretty fireplace.

She shook her head. “No… but…” she shrugged. It was nice to bring a piece of her uncle back to her. “I kind of like it,” she smirked.

He winked at her. “See you around, Miss Alden.”

“Have a nice day, Mr. Langley,” she called.

“That’s usually Mr. Styles’ line,” he called over his shoulder as Harry held the door open for him to exit. Harry turned back to her but before he could even part his lips to speak the elevator chimed with its new arrival. She quickly took interest in her phone researching the closest hardware store within walking distance and all the other little errands she wanted to accomplish.

Harry swallowed his thoughts, whatever they were—and promptly stood no more than four feet from the elevator. “Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth. How are you this morning?”

“Did you call for my car?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wentworth. It will be here in under five minutes. I figured you’d like to check your mail?” He suggested. “Can I get you coffee or anything?” He asked politely.

“No.”

“How about a ‘no, thank you’?” She muttered under her breath.

“Did you say something?” Shit. The old woman’s hearing was still good, it seemed.

“Just reading something on my phone, Mrs. Wentworth,” she smiled politely. “It looks like there might be rain this afternoon. Do you have an umbrella?” So you don’t melt.

“You young-uns and your phones. Addicted I tell you.”

She smirked to herself and lounged back to look at her phone more comfortably. “Perhaps. I read a lot on my phone—there’s this app I downloaded to read on the go and it’s just so convenient—especially on the train or something like that. Makes great for travel. Of course I love real books too. I just love reading. Do you like reading, Mrs. Wentworth?”

The woman stared at her and Harry looked uncomfortable beyond belief. She had to remember that. In the two times the three of them had been in the same room she’d clearly done something to make Mrs. Wentworth mad; she couldn’t tell if that would somehow reflect poorly on Harry, but she wasn’t sure she’d like to take that chance. The last thing she wanted to do was make the hot doorman upset.

“I can recommend you a book if you’d like,” she said gently, softer and less… sarcastic.

“That’s alright,” she grumbled and headed to the mailboxes. Harry shook his head and sighed.

“Do y’need something?” He asked her under his breath. He was standing much closer to her, and she felt her heart skyrocket. Was she sweating? She was sitting too close to the fireplace. She needed to remember that for the next time she sat down in the lobby and Harry was there too.

“No, why?”

“Y’have y’cart and y’seem like you’re waiting for m’attention or something.”

Lord knew she would love to have Harry’s attention. But she wasn’t waiting for it. She frowned at his distaste. “Oh… sorry I was just… planning my day… I can go.” 

He took a deep breath, rubbed a hand over his mouth. “No… that’s… s’not what I meant, darling. S’jus’ Mrs. Wen—”

“Harry, I think my car has arrived, has it not?”

He grimaced slightly, shook his head, and turned back to the older woman. “Sure has, Mrs. Wentworth. Sorry for the delay,” he hurried back to her side and offered his arm for her to take as he escorted her out of the building.

“Have a nice day Mrs. Wentworth!” She called. It wasn’t sarcastic, but she hoped it pissed off the old woman anyway.

Harry turned to look at her briefly with a cold stare.

She watched from her cozy position as Harry helped the cranky woman to her car. She sighed heavily, feeling bad that she made Harry upset. Regardless of how briefly or even if it wasn’t really fair of him to be upset with her.

Because she was too nice for her own good and despite how mean the cranky old woman was, she hurried after her and Harry. “Mrs. Wentworth, here,” she said quickly. “I have another umbrella upstairs,” she offered and handed the black umbrella to her as she situated herself in the car. “I’d hate for you to be caught in the rain,” she said kindly. (Plus, she could only imagine the havoc she could wreak on whomever was subject to an old, cranky, and rain-drenched woman and that seemed unfair to anyone involved. Or worse, when she returned, she’d probably blame Harry for the bad weather.)

It was clear on her face that Mrs. Wentworth wanted to be snappy, but even the heartless old lady couldn’t deny how kind the young woman was. Harry seemed to be holding his breath. “Thank you,” she mumbled. She nodded with a kind smile and headed back inside quickly so as not to upset Harry any further.

She settled into the cozy couch cushions once more and returned to planning her day. “How’d y’do that?” Harry’s warm voice asked.

“Do what?” She looked up from her phone and Harry took a seat across from her.

“She said thank you, t’you. I’ve worked here for ages and ‘ve never once heard her say thank you.”

She frowned. “That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry. I don’t know. I just… was trying to be kind. I’m sorry if I made your life harder with her.”

Harry rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “M’sorry. I shouldn’t… I was a little cold. M’sorry. I jus’… Mrs. Wentworth is still one of the people I think can get me fired.”

“Well, I know I’m new, but I wouldn’t let that happen,” she shrugged.

Harry smirked. “Thank you. M’sorry again.”

“Please don’t apologize, I was kind of being a brat.”

He chuckled. “Y’didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he mumbled. She smiled. “What are you doing with this?” He asked, turning his attention to her cart.

“I have some errands to run. I want to paint my apartment. I need more kitchen supplies. A few more groceries… that stuff.”

“I see,” he nodded.

“Do you need anything?” She asked.

“Pardon?”

“Do you need anything while I’m out?” She stood up and grabbed the handle of the cart, ready to drag it behind her like a kid dragging a wagon around the park.

“Oh… no, you don’t—” he shook his head. “S’not how this works, darling,” he chuckled.

Were his cheeks a little pink or was she imagining it? “Oh… I just thought… I was out, you know?”

“S’very kind of you, 12A,” he smirked. This version of Harry was a bit sweeter than the one she met a couple days ago. Sweeter than the one even a few moments ago. She liked the nicknames she was getting here. It was all just very sweet. “Y’don’t need t’get me a thing,” he assured her.

“If you’re sure. You can text me if you need something. I think you have my phone number on file,” she shrugged.

“S’really not how this works.”

She shrugged again. “I’m not all that conventional,” Harry walked to the door ahead of her and held the door open.

“Have a nice day, Miss,” he said softly.

“Have a nice day, Harry.”

*

Because Harry was talking to her, nothing else really mattered. She forgot about going back up for an umbrella. So, she was unfortunately caught in the rain, she didn’t want Mrs. Wentworth to get stuck in.

Therefore, she was quite soaked by the time she arrived home. She bought a small tarp while at the hardware store, so her items were dry in her wagon. But she was cold and very much looking forward to a very hot shower.

It was windy too. Which only made her cold wet trip even worse. But on top of that, it made it hard to open the door. She felt like Dorothy trying to get the gate open in the tornado scene. She trudged through. Fortunately, Harry was suddenly there. “Jesus 12A, did y’fall in a puddle?” He asked and hurried to catch the tail end of her struggle. He pushed the door open and pulled her wagon from her grip. He yanked it inside and then looked at her. “Are y’okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” she frowned. Rain was dripping off her. “I forgot I gave my umbrella to Mrs. Wentworth.” Harry shook his head and sauntered to the office behind the desk. He returned quickly with a few towels, a fan, and a wet floor sign. She felt so out of place. This building was much too fancy for a mishap like this. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

He tilted his head at her. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I made a mess. Please, let me clean it up,” she didn’t even use the towel to wipe herself off. She merely dropped it to the floor to help dry the rain up. Her throat felt tight for no reason. Maybe it was because she was alone in a new place and just totally out of her element. Like growing pains. It was the same way when she started university. The thought of leaving the comfort of her home (regardless of how insane it could be at times) made her homesick before she had even left.

“S’really okay. M’more worried ‘bout you… The weather is terrible, are you alright?” He asked again.

The problem was if he asked again, she was going to do something insane like burst into tears. She didn’t want to explain that she missed her mom as a grown adult to a stranger. It would seem ridiculous to tell him that she missed her younger brother and her sister and was already nostalgic for the Christmas holiday party that had just passed.

That she felt lonely in that big apartment and the weather only made it worse and it was dumb of her to leave when she knew the rain was going to be bad. It was stupid of her to forget an umbrella after giving hers away to someone who probably would complain that it blew open backwards when she returned it anyway.

But Harry fixed his gaze on her. Those pretty green eyes that matched two of the paint cans in her wagon knew exactly where to look inside her and where to find how scared she was. Harry knew.

He seemed to know instantly, exactly, was wrong with her. “C’mon,” he offered. He nodded succinctly to the other person at the desk—she hadn’t met him yet. Hell, she’d only met four people in Kingsley Place in total. He was dressed like Harry, and she assumed he was another doorman for the building, but she would have to meet him later. Harry ushered her onto the elevator and continued dragging her wagon behind him with ease.

“I’m getting the elevator wet.”

“S’okay,” he shrugged one shoulder and pressed the button for the twelfth floor.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her emotion at bay. They silently ascended to her floor while she hoped and prayed, she wouldn’t cry in front of the hot doorman while looking like a drowned rat. On the eighth floor they stopped. She swore under her breath and tilted her head back and swore she heard the raindrops falling on the floor from her jacket. Harry casually stepped in front of her and pulled her cart to the side.

“Going up, Miss Mercer,” he said politely to the person waiting just outside the door.

The woman sighed heavily. “Okay, thanks Harry. I’ll catch it on the way back down. Is that a delivery?” She had her dainty hand with perfect nail polish and pretty designs on the door to keep it open. “It’s soaking the elevator.”

“I’ll take care of it when I get back downstairs. You may want t’grab an umbrella. S’terrible weather right now. Can’t believe they made a delivery in all this,” he said knowingly. It was a bit pointed.

Before she could stop herself, she reached out and pinched the back of his arm. He didn’t even flinch. Dick. She also hated that his triceps felt taut. And that he was essentially keeping her from being seen by someone else she hadn’t met. Based on the manicure, it was likely someone who had a lot more money than she did. All of it was very kind of him even though he was being short about her.

“Alright. Thanks, Harry,” she said.

It was for the best she couldn’t see whoever Miss Mercer was. She was probably perfectly made up, a pretty outfit that cost more than all the items she had in her wagon. Harry stepped away. “Did you pinch me?” He asked as the doors opened to the twelfth floor.

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes and waited outside her door for her to unlock it. She could feel her socks sloshing in her shoes. Silently, she unlocked the door and gestured for Harry to enter. He filed in and pulled the wagon behind him. It was then she realized the place was a catastrophe. Stuff, empty boxes, and literally everything was in total disarray. Harry was just there to witness it all. “Do y’need help unloading any of this?” He asked as if she wasn’t a mess. He pulled the tarp away and revealed a ton of her items. Surprised to see she had all kinds of supplies to paint. “You’re really going t’paint?” He asked in surprise. She knew he thought she wasn’t really going to paint and was just going to hire someone instead.

“I don’t have a bed right now. Or a dresser. So, I figured it would be… the right time to do it,” she shrugged off her soaking jacket. She should have brought it to the bathroom to drip in the tub. But she didn’t want to leave Harry alone because even though her place was a wreck and she was feeling totally out of sorts, she really liked having him there. Or maybe it was just because he was the first one to visit her new place and she was feeling incredibly alone after her treacherous journey in the rain.

“What’s with the toolbox?” He asked, placing it beside the wagon.

“Oh… uh…” she shrugged. “There were a few issues that I figured I could fix too before I start my new job.”

“Niall could do them,” he told her.

“They’re not that kind of issue. Niall doesn’t need to hang up a coat and towel rack for me.”

“But s’what he gets paid t’do. He doesn’t mind. S’not like… S’what everyone pays those monthly fees for.”

A monthly fee that was still cheaper than any rent she had paid to date but still wildly expensive. “Yeah… okay. Well, if there’s an actual issue, I’ll let him know. I can handle a lot of small jobs like that.”

Harry was looking at her like he’d never seen another person before, and she didn’t really understand why he was looking at her like that. “Do y’have food?” He asked.

“Pardon?” Harry was all over the map with his line of questioning.

“S’jus’… s’cold and y’hair is all wet. I can order and send up some soup when I get back downstairs.”

She felt warmer with his kindness almost instantly. “Oh… yeah, thank you, but I’m good. I have to make something anyway…”

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Mrs. Wentworth is due back soon. I should… make sure the floors are dry enough. I’ll be sure t’get your umbrella back from her.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Course. Thank you. For earlier. Again. Y’know?”

“Oh,” she held a finger up and grabbed a small box from the corner of the wagon. “I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I stopped at this donut shop and they had these massive fun and sugary donuts. It was all themed. One of them had crispy marshmallows and graham cracker crumbs. I didn’t get that one but… I don’t know. I thought you and Niall might like one,” she offered holding the box out.

He looked at her. “S’not how this thing works, darling,” his voice was very gentle. It was like it was peeling all the cold off her and replacing it with a warm blanket.

She shrugged. “I know, but you helped me the other day and today,” she explained.

“S’my job.”

“Just because it’s your job doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be thanked for it.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a second, searched over her face for a few moments and carefully took the donut box from her. “Thank you, darling,” he said gently. “Please call down if y’need some help.”

“Okay. I will,” she probably wouldn’t. But at least Harry seemed to be a little less grumpy with her already. “Have a nice rest of your day, Harry.”

“Have a nice day, Miss,” he nodded and closed the door behind him.

--

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One of the hardest parts of Harry’s job was being happy (or at least looking like he was happy) when he was not having a good day. He didn’t get the best sleep. A lot of his night was spent thinking about all the things he had to do today and all the things that he didn’t get to before falling asleep.

Fortunately, the first resident he saw early that morning was Arthur. So, at the very least, it was a little easier to pretend that he was doing okay this morning.

“Mr. Langley, good morning,” Harry smiled, a real genuine smile that he didn’t need to fake. “Your driver is right outside; your coffee was delivered just a moment ago. What time should I expect you back so I can put your thermostat back on?”

“Five-thirty, Mr. Styles. Thank you,” he took the coffee and checked his watch. Arthur was older, his watch was probably worth more than Harry’s entire salary for a year. But Arthur was kind, tipped well at the holidays, and thanked Harry profusely every single day regardless of if he did all that much for him. If Harry was rich, he’d want to be just like Arthur. “How’s the weather out there?”

“It’s a typical January day. Warm in the sun, cold in the wind.”

“Sure, alright. I’ll see you this evening. Don’t work too hard,” he winked.

Harry couldn’t help but grin. Arthur was one of his favorites. “Have a good day, Mr. Langley,” he said holding open the door for him and then turned back toward the lobby. It was huge, the desk where Harry spent a lot of his day was across from the main doors and it was the shortest distance to the elevator. There was ample seating. Some of the residents spent time down there, especially during the holidays to admire the tree Harry put up and get warm by the beautiful fireplace.

Harry didn’t have a lot of money, but the lobby was one of his favorite places.

Except for when someone, who was consistently in a worse mood than he was, arrived like clockwork.

He was sorry to say, but Mrs. Wentworth was… not one of his favorites. She was very particular and was displeased more often than not.

Harry strode back across the lobby to his desk waiting for the list of demands that he was sure were about to fall from her lips at any moment. “Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth,” did he grit his teeth behind his smile a little? Perhaps. It was something he had perfected morning after morning. The older woman barely acknowledged his greeting.

“I have a package coming this morning. It’s very important it doesn’t get mishandled. I don’t want it lying around down here for anyone to take nor on my doorstep. Set it on my kitchen table.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded politely at her demand. In Harry’s time as doorman, he had not once lost a package to theoretical thieves. Hell, he’d hardly ever mixed up two packages when he brought them to a resident’s doorstep. Most people gathered their items in the lobby. Mrs. Wentworth was one of the only people who asked for her packages to be delivered to her door. “Do you need me to call a car, Mrs. Wentworth?” He asked kindly. Get you out of here a little faster, perhaps? He thought to himself.

God, he was not chipper at all this morning.

“Well, it’s not going to call itself now, is it?”

Harry swallowed the ironic laughter that threatened to bubble out of him. He couldn’t help it; it was comical—almost like clockwork that this curmudgeonly woman would have an attitude like that with Harry. He was nothing but polite to everyone, but the least not her, always. “Right away, Mrs. Wentworth,” he nodded and quickly busied himself with the phone call for her car and driver. He hoped for the person at the other end of the line would send a veteran and not a new driver. That would be disastrous for everyone involved.

Seconds after hanging up, he found Mrs. Wentworth gathering her mail from the boxes in the small little room where they resided to the right of the lobby. He took a small, relieved breath to not have to worry for fifteen seconds before her next demand was ordered. Or that she wasn’t eyeing him like he forgot to iron his shirt.

Within those fifteen seconds, however, the electronic beeping of a large moving truck pulled up and backed up against the curb outside the building. Briefly he glanced at the notes he had prepared on the desk in front of him just to double-check he had all the relevant information corrected.

The newest resident of Kingsley Place was moving in.

The building had been around for nearly a hundred years but had been renovated in the current century. It was hard for a new person to move in unless they had a lot of money or a lot of wealth prior to signing the lease.

Which was exactly what Harry was afraid of.

“That truck is going to get in the way of my car,” Mrs. Wentworth snapped.

Especially if the new resident was going to be anything like Mrs. Wentworth.

Harry hurried to the door hoping to assure Mrs. Wentworth of any problems. (Plus, if the truck blocked her in, Harry would never hear the end of it, and he might not make it through his workday). He waved to the driver to get his attention. “Can I trouble you to move up a bit?” He asked. The driver saluted him and moved up just as Mrs. Wentworth’s car pulled up. Harry held the door open as the old woman crossed the threshold. Harry was excited to see her off for the day. Who knew what she did while she was gone all day, but at least she wouldn’t be souring his mood in the lobby for any longer. The driver of the truck got out and started to open the back with a loud, clanging, metallic sound as the door slid to the top.

“Whoever the new resident is, better not scratch up the floor or the elevator with their junk,” Harry held open the door for her to pass through. She stood just in front of the entry way waiting for Harry’s next move.

“Course not, Mrs. Wentworth,” Harry held his arm out for her to take to walk to the edge of the sidewalk and get into her car.

“Oh great,” she scoffed bitterly. “It’s another one of you young’uns,” her voice was filled with distaste. “She better not play loud music and better not be on my floor.”

Better for her sake, surely. Harry knew next to nothing about the new resident other than her name. Other than she was Henry Alden’s niece and had been given the luxurious apartment on the twelfth floor (luckily for everyone involved, not the same floor as Mrs. Wentworth). For once, Harry sided with the old, cranky lady.

Harry was frustrated that she was young too. Or perhaps jealous was a better word for how he felt (although he would deny it tooth and nail). Harry worked hard. He tried his best every day and yet people were still handed the pretty apartments like the one this woman was about to move into.

Harry glanced in the direction of the truck expecting to find a woman like all the other new-money residents that lived in his building. He expected name brand athleisure wear and a mere photo op of her “moving in” with her make up and hair perfectly done and a crew of men to do the actual moving. He’d seen it at least ten times over.

Harry thought about when he moved into the building. It was a small living space, he was allowed in what was practically the basement of the building. He moved every item in himself without help. Granted he didn’t have much. He was very grateful for any space in the beautiful building at a reasonable price when he saw how much the apartments he served cost.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

The voice came from behind them as Harry helped Mrs. Wentworth into the car. The woman that Harry had been thinking about, and the one Mrs. Wentworth was worried about being too loud appeared just off the side of Harry’s elbow. “I believe you dropped this,” she said holding out an envelope. Harry glanced at it briefly and he wasn’t quite sure of its contents of course, but he’d bet there was a check or money in it, for sure.

Mrs. Wentworth snatched it out of her hands. “Harry, did you see it fall? Did you try to take it?!”

Harry nearly gaped. He started to protest before he could stop it; he spent a lot of time refraining from speaking his mind around his least favorite resident. But he slept poorly and he was on track for a bad day. It would rid himself of Mrs. Wentworth once and for all if he just told her off.

If this angry, old woman got him fired because she was going to accuse him of stealing when he had never been anything but nice to her, he would without a doubt cry.

But before he could finally tell her off, he was interrupted.

“No ma’am,” she said quickly instead. “I was just coming over to introduce myself, when you adjusted your purse over your shoulder, I saw it flutter out. Must have caught the breeze. It’s okay! It’s all sealed and I didn’t see anything else fall,” she said reassuringly with a kind smile. Her voice was gentle and it sounded like the way her smile looked: pretty, warm, and lovely. Harry only had a peripheral visual of her at the moment. He was trying to make sure Mrs. Wentworth was safely inside the car and not about to break a leg between the curb and the door frame. “It’s nice to meet you,” she stuck her hand out in between Harry and the open space of the car. He chose this moment to look at the driver up front, steeling himself for a ride with Mrs. Wentworth. It clearly wasn’t his first rodeo either—and Harry was glad the company sent someone used to her antics—and if she was in a bad mood before she got in the car it was all over for him.

“Oh.”

Harry, in the seven or so years of being at Kingsley Place, had not once seen Mrs. Wentworth at a loss for words (or complaint). She shook the new resident’s hand awkwardly and Harry stepped away from the side of the road. “Have a lovely day, Mrs. Wentworth,” he hoped he sounded level and cool, and not like he was begging for her to leave..

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wentworth,” the woman beside him smiled beautifully.

(It was right at that moment that Harry felt some flicker of emotion in the pit of his stomach. It echoed in his chest. It had been a long time since he wanted a relationship. When he was surrounded by all that money and glamour—especially the new-money residents—he didn’t think of relationships much at all. Since he lacked the kind of money he saw every day, it was hard to convince himself that he could be in a relationship or support someone else. It didn’t feel like it was in the cards for him at this juncture in his life. That was fine by him. He wanted to be out of debt. Wanted to live his quiet little life and nothing more. So, the woman’s kindness and helpfulness to the lowly doorman made that dormant emotion that Harry wasn’t quite sure what it was flutter in his body. It felt almost like some long-ago memory of falling for someone. Was it because she was pretty or because she told off his least favorite resident with nothing but sugar on her tongue? He couldn’t quite tell just yet, but he figured at the very least it was probably both.)

She gave a gentle wave and turned back to her moving truck where the driver was stacking boxes on the sidewalk.

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected.

The new, younger residents didn’t do anything on their own. They needed help with everything. The eye rolls Harry kept at bay when they asked him for inane things and help felt like he was going to develop a head trauma at any moment. They knew how to flash their money around and that was it.

But here she was, thanking the driver and climbing on the back of the truck and procuring a handcart to help with her boxes. “Oh, you’re still here, great!” she said with a bright smile as she hopped down again. “She’s a piece of work, hmm?” She smirked knowingly and tilted her head toward the retreating car.

Harry realized he was staring. How could he not? He had full visual of her now. She was wearing athleisure wear, but he wasn’t sure it was name-brand. He thought back to when the building first opened. Maybe there was something about ankles that were cute. It was cool, but she just wore a sweatshirt over her head. It had a logo for a science seminar of some kind. He didn’t want to get caught staring at her chest, so he opted for a quick scan and nothing more. He cleared his throat. “Uhh… yeah.”

“I’m the new resident. The old Alden residence. My uncle,” she explained.

He nodded solemnly. He tried not to notice the way she lifted her boxes onto the cart because it involved a lot of bending and stretching and she was…pretty. Very, very pretty.

He should have offered his help. He peered around her and noticed the large truck had a lot of extra space and not nearly enough to warrant such a large truck. “You’ll jus’ need t’sign in at the front,” he mumbled.

“Sure, of course,” she grinned sweetly. “I believe I spoke to someone on the phone about who I’d meet today. You’re Mr. Styles, is that correct?”

He cleared his throat again. “Harry, yes,” he reached for one of the boxes and placed it on top of the other. He wasn’t supposed to. If anything, he should have waited for her to ask, at least.

Her pretty eyes followed the movement immediately. “Thank you, Harry,” her voice was so kind, filled with gratitude. “I’m sure you’re busy and I know you’re not supposed to help; I appreciate that. Let me sign whatever you need so I can get out of your way,” she pulled her cart behind her as she headed for the front door.

Harry was a bit stunned. A wave of awe washed over him. She had to have money… right? Her uncle had a lot of money so… it was a family thing… right? Where were her movers? Harry shook his head and tried to remember how to do his job before one of the other residents saw him. Mrs. Wentworth would probably tear him a new one if she saw him not holding the door for her—even if the old lady decided her feelings about the new resident before getting to know her.

Ugh, I’m just like Mrs. Wentworth. Harry thought.

“Uhh… right, yeah, sorry,” he shook his head and hurried for the door. He grabbed it and allowed her through. Behind them, the driver was still stacking boxes on the sidewalk. She pulled the cart behind her, it stuck a bit on the lip of the door frame and she huffed as she exerted a little more energy to get it over the entryway.

“This is going to be such a pain,” she frowned and whispered it to herself.

God, she was cute.

No, no she’s not, stop it. Harry shook his head, moved behind his desk and found the appropriate paperwork and whatnot. “Sign here,” he stated and handed the pen to her. She skimmed over the words; it wasn’t a contract or anything. That was all sent electronically. This was just acknowledgement that Harry handed off her keys.

“I know we just met and all and you don’t have to stand over it or anything, but could you keep an eye on the boxes he leaves on the sidewalk? I just have to run up to my apartment and drop these off. I’ll be right back down,” she looked at him expectantly. Her eyebrows knit together just a bit, and she looked a little nervous, like Harry was going to say no. And he could. She was right. It wasn’t in his job description.

Was it hot in the lobby? Did he turn the heat up too high since it was colder outside? He felt warm as she spoke to him and maybe a little nervous himself. He didn’t like that she was pouting. It seemed genuine. She seemed… lost. There was no one there except for her. Did any of Alden’s family live near by? He couldn’t remember. “You don’t have to fight anyone over it either. I grabbed all the important ones first,” she said quickly. Like that would be the deciding factor for him.

“You’re moving your stuff in?” He realized by then, but it was like he needed confirmation.

She tilted her head. “Well, yeah…”

“What about the driver?”

She turned to look out at the sidewalk briefly before turning back to him with a shrug. “He’s going elsewhere. More pickups, I think. I paid him a little extra to help get the stuff off the truck but I’m on my own here.”

“Oh,” he shook his head. “I’ll… I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“Yeah?!” She sighed with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Styles. Seriously, I appreciate it so much,” she said gratefully and placed the pen back on the paper she signed. He handed her the key to her apartment and then she all but skipped over to the elevator with relief that Harry was going to help her.

Harry realized too late that he was once more not doing his job. He all but ran across the lobby to smack the button before she could. He needed to be a little useful to this woman. Anything would be better than standing there with his mouth halfway to the floor in awe of her.

“You can call me Harry if you want,” he mumbled.

She smiled waiting patiently for the elevator to ascend. “It’s really whatever you would prefer.”

For a brief moment he considered keeping it the utmost professional. But she was young and Harry was lonely and she was moving in all by herself so maybe she was a little lonely too. “Harry is fine,” he said very softly.

“Great,” she grinned brightly. She tucked the strand of pretty, soft looking hair behind her ear that was pulled from the bun she had artfully affixed to the back of her head. “Thank you again, Harry.”

“My pleasure, really. Welcome to Kingsley Place,” he nodded, just as the elevator chimed with its arrival. He held the door open (not that it was going to close any time soon, but he wanted to make sure she was safely inside with all her belongings before it shut) and let her pass across its threshold.

“Harry?” She asked gently.

“Yes?” He pressed the twelfth-floor button.

“What apartment number am I?”

He smirked. “12A, Miss.”

“12A,” she repeated. Harry noticed it sounded like a bird singing a song first thing in the morning. “I’ll be right back,” she took a deep breath and Harry stepped back as the elevator doors closed.

He stared at where she was standing just moments ago. She was moving in on her own. She didn’t even know which apartment she was living in. Harry knew next to nothing about her and yet there was some long-forgotten familiarity to her. Something that he couldn’t quite place that made him feel a little lighter.

Was he having a bad morning? He couldn’t remember.

“Who was that?” He spun on his heel and saw Niall making his way to the office behind the front desk to hang up his coat. He dressed a bit differently than Harry did, but still looked professional. Harry heard the jingle of his keys as he hooked them on his belt loop and strapped his tool belt around his hips. Harry returned to the door and watched as the driver moved the last of her items on the ground. Harry gave a nod to him and watched him depart from the curb.

“New resident.”

“Alden’s niece?” He asked from behind him. He grabbed the clipboard off the desk and scanned the orders that Harry printed off when he got to the office. Niall had a busy day ahead of him. Harry nodded watching the stuff on the sidewalk like it might suddenly disappear. “I think I caught a glimpse of her. Cute. Is that her stuff?” Harry nodded silently keeping a steady gaze on her items. “You alright?”

He nodded again. “Jus’ keeping an eye on her stuff.”

“Hmm,” Niall tilted his head at his best friend. “That’s nice of you.”

“Would y’mind helping me move it into the lobby?”

He snorted. “Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow at his friend. Harry stared at him. “You’ve got it bad,” Niall chuckled quietly.

“Got what bad?” Harry turned to glare at him.

He held the clipboard up like it was a shield. “Nothing, nothing at all. Just didn’t know you would break the rules for someone.”

“She’s all alone moving all her things,” he mumbled.

“That’s a nice change of pace,” Niall agreed. He and Niall talked at length, how differently the other half lived—the kind of wealth that they would never understand. Harry and Niall worked hard. Always. They believed some of their residents hadn’t worked a day in their lives.

“Will y’help or not?”

Niall chuckled again but followed Harry outside and started grabbing boxes to carry through the door to stack near the chairs in the lobby. He didn’t block any seats, didn’t block the mailboxes, or anything that could annoy other residents.

“She told off Mrs. Wentworth,” Harry mumbled with the thought of annoyed residents.

“Oh, you’re going to marry the fuck out of her,” Niall laughed loudly. Harry was grateful they were outside so none of the residents heard him.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I am not.”

“You’re bringing her boxes inside.”

Harry ignored his friend and continued moving boxes in as quickly as he could. The elevator signaled her arrival (although he realized after the fact it really could have been any of the residents, but he chose not to read into it) and he was right. She reappeared with her empty cart and that extremely bright smile of hers filled her very pretty face. “Oh, that’s so kind of you, but don’t feel like you have to, I know it’s not your job,” she said sweetly. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“I helped too!” His best friend pouted entering from outside once more.

She laughed this beautiful, sweet sound that Harry was in awe of; that long-forgotten feeling continued bubbling inside of him. “Nice to meet you,” she held her hand out and Harry was extremely jealous that Mrs. Wentworth and Niall were getting to hold her hand (no matter how briefly).

“If you need anything let Harry or I know. He’ll make sure I fix it,” he assured her. “I’d love to stay and help, but I’ve got a busy schedule,” he explained. “Harry would be happy to help you, still though,” he said and boarded the elevator to start his day.

Niall made kissy faces at Harry as the doors closed and Harry ignored him completely.

“I jus’ figured it’d be easier t’watch your stuff if it was inside the building. So, I could keep working on m’actual stuff,” he wondered if he sounded a little colder to her. He felt like he did. He was trying hard to keep a boundary that he feared was slipping away very quickly.

She nodded; her kind smile was full of gratitude still despite his prickliness. She was so pretty looking, and she didn’t look bothered that she was alone and moving all by herself. “Well thank you Harry. I was more worried about it on the street. This is really a huge help. Don’t trouble yourself with anything else. I’ll get this out of here in no time,” she began stacking more boxes on her cart as she spoke and it was filled within moments. “I’ll be spending most of the day unpacking, so hopefully I won’t bother you or anyone else once I’m upstairs.”

“Right, sure. That sounds good,” he muttered. Was he upset that he wouldn’t see her much once her boxes were gone? Maybe he could ‘hide’ one and ‘find’ it and bring it to her…

She stacked a few more boxes on her cart. “Well, if I don’t see you later, have a nice day, Harry. Thank you again.”

He watched her get on the elevator once more. He held it open until he knew she was safely inside with all her belongings. “Have a nice day, Miss,” he said gently. That pretty smile disappeared behind the closing doors and she ascended to the twelfth floor.

--

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iii.

Riding on the back of a dragon is petrifying. 

Maybe it was dumb for Y/N not to have realized that this was how Harry would transfer her from this cave to the next. There is no saddle fixed to his back as there would be on a horse, though there is a spot where the hardened spikes and scales protruding from him are arranged in a perfect Y/N sized spot. She’s unsure if this spot existed on Mitch, or, even if it had, how Mitch had kept her on his back without her flying off the moment they took air. Did he just keep a hold of her in his hand/paw? How did he not accidentally drop her or something? Thank god she hadn’t woken in the middle, or she might have passed right back out. 

Their solution for this is rope. One long, woven tightly around Harry’s front legs, crisscrossing in front of and then behind his neck, and then threaded around her body multiple times. She hadn’t seen Harry shift into a dragon, nor had she seen the complicated maneuvers it must have taken for Mitch to wrap the rope around his large body. His mate helped Y/N limp out of the cave, around the side of the mouth of it, where there’s a long stretch of land that was perfect for dragons to shift. It was like a huge platform for them, and Y/N doesn’t know if it’s man-made (dragon-made?) or if it was just naturally like this. She also finds that they are on the side of a mountain, about halfway up, and she’d never really cared about heights until right now, so she tries not to look. 

What she does look at is a vision she hasn’t seen for a while. Not since the very first time that they met, Y/N had yet to see Harry in his dragon form again until right now. Only, instead of purple eyes glaring at her with distrust and disdain, they appear softer, more appeasing. His head is following them as they walk, before he tips it down near her, huffing a big breath that billows the fabric of her thin night gown. Mitch had packed up her clothes and boots to finish drying at Harry’s cave in a neat little sack. Y/N giggles a little at Harry, though her stomach still twists being so close to him in this form. He looks so menacing, even though he’s giving her what she could only describe as puppy dog eyes right now. She longs to reach out and touch him, explore this side, but she thinks maybe it can wait until they’re alone. She doesn’t want to take any more of his friend’s time.  

Mitch places her on his back and scales up the side of Harry’s form with the rope he’d tied to him. He sits Y/N in the space at the top, below where his neck stops and his body begins, and works on twisting the ropes around her waist, over her shoulders, and around her thighs. It creates a harness, and Y/N has a difficult time moving in it, which would normally make her claustrophobic, but in this case, she’s just fine with it. She’d rather not have too much wiggle room on a dragon, especially when she has no idea how long she’s going to be on him and how high up they’d be.

Still, even with the fear stuttering through her heart, she feels an odd sense of ease. It’s smothered in her distress about flying, sure, but beneath the muck of that — knowing that it is Harry she’s with makes her feel better. Being close to him, after so long being separated, brings a different sort of comfort. Her hands run along the grooves of his scales, and the heat he emits pushes away any of the cold that she’d been experiencing before. Dragons are all warm. Y/N found this when, after being pressed close to the two others, even in a slightly damp nightie, she was not shivering down to her bones as she’d been before. But Harry is extra warm right now, like he’s doing it just for her rather than it being his normal body temperature. Maybe that’s just due to his size, but Y/N chooses to believe it’s because he wants her warm.

“I will follow close behind,” Mitch tells her, “To help you dismount at his cave.” He assured her, “Lean close to his body and hold on tightly. We have not experimented with riders very much, so if you were to fall, I will catch you.” A low growl rumbles below her, the vibrations of it sizzle throughout her legs, and Mitch breathes out a gentle laugh, “But Prince Harry will not allow this to happen.”

Y/N swallows thickly, gripping the ropes in front of her tightly, “Uh, yes, okay,” she nods, “Thank — thank you. I’m very nervous.”

“Don’t be,” he pats her shoulder, “You are in good hands, he’s a very safe flier.”

Still, as Mitch jumps off, Y/N’s heart is thundering hard against her sternum. It almost threatens to crack with the intensity of it. Harry lifts from where he’d been sitting, straightening out his legs and Y/N’s whole body moves with him as the muscles shift in his back. He shakes his body out once, like he was getting a feel for his bones, his appendages, and the small, but still extra mass atop of him. His wings straighten out, and Y/N sees that the skin between each phalange is an even thicker membrane than she’d realized from before. 

After he stands, it feels as though he’s giving her a moment to collect herself, before he stretches his wings further, flapping them once, twice — the movement of them and the wind it generates causes the branches on the trees nearby to waver. The third flap, Y/N feels them move, and Harry is walking — or more so trotting- toward the edge of the mountain. Her stomach drops when they first begin to free-fall, before a fourth, strong flap of his wings cuts through the air and raises them. Y/N couldn’t help it when she screamed, her hands burning from how tightly she gripped onto the rope and flattened herself close to Harry’s body. She would be embarrassed by the sound later on, but for now, she can only focus on the fear coursing through her. 

She is pressed so close to his body that her cheek strokes against his scales. Part of her wants to try and look, and the other part of her thinks it’s best to stick close to him down here, where she is. At this angle, his neck blocks the wind and snow that would be battering at her face. The movement of his muscles beneath his scales can be felt, too, and she can only imagine what it must look like as his wings flap and glide with the wind. Distantly, she can make out the sound of another dragon nearby, and she knew if she felt brave enough to turn around and look, she’d see Mitch flying close by. But she couldn’t bear the thought of doing anything but keeping her eyes fixed tight and clutching onto the rope with one hand and Harry with the other. 

It isn’t as turbulent as she would have thought it’d be. Y/N imagined being jostled and thrown around, like the first time she’d ridden in a buggy as a child over rocky hills and dirt roads. This is much smoother, despite the wind, and therefore, if not for the popping of her ears and the sound of wind, then she might not notice she was in the air at all. She’s unsure of how long they are in the air for, before she finds the courage to peek her head up a little higher. When she looks ahead, it isn’t so bad – it’s dark, so she can’t see much but the following snow and the clouds. However, when she chances a look down, she feels her stomach drop again, so she lowers back closer to Harry with a squeal. There’s a little, rumbled sound that comes from him – Y/N would say it was a laugh, if she didn’t know any better. 

They fly for what feels like forever, but she isn’t sure if it actually was, or if her nerves extended the time. Y/N guesses she’s never been to Harry’s cave before, so she has no idea where it is in relation to where she used to meet him in the forest. Maybe it was quite far? Or maybe her mind was playing tricks on her? It was hard to say. All she knows at this point is that she can feel the descent in all of her organs, as Harry tilts forward and down while her ears pop again. She will be more than grateful to get on the ground again – or, at least, as on the ground as she could get when they would undoubtedly be on the side of a mountain. 

She keeps her eyes closed until there’s the distinct sound of paws on land, the huff of a dragon, and the jostling of her body as he lands. When she finally peeks open to look around, she finds that –yes, they are on the side of another mountain. Y/N can just barely make out the mouth of the cave before Harry steps too far forward for her to see. She finally cranes around to see Mitch also landing, then turns back ahead – as curious as she is to see them transform from one form to the other, she’s worried that he’ll be naked or something. Plus, it kind of feels like something personal – like something she should ask to see before seeing it. 

So she turns again and looks ahead, straightening her back and trying to shake out the nervous jitters that had been bombarding her body. Harry is shaking his head too, though that is more so to get the snow off the top of it. It’s cute – he kind of reminds her of a puppy, like this. Less so, when he turns his head, and she can see one of his eyes peering at her. Y/N can only return his gaze with wide eyes, feeling a little like she might be dreaming. Now that the initial fear of a dragon ride has begun to fizzle, the throbbing in her ankle is far more potent. 

Mitch scales up the side of Harry again. He smiles at her gently, “Was it nice?” He inquired, carefully working on the knots that bound her, “Not too scary, right?” 

“It was horrifying,” she answered honestly, “Very scary, my heart feels like it might pound straight from my chest.” 

Harry grumbles, shaking his head again, knocking the snow off his head. If they had stood below him, it probably would have felt like snow flurries over them; that’s how much had already accumulated. The wind was blowing in more weather, meaning that it would only get worse and worse outside. She thinks that’s why Mitch works so quickly to get her back on his back, sliding down Harry’s side with the ropes that had been binding her to his body. Y/N expects him to kneel so she can crawl off the top of him, but instead, he keeps her on his back and walks her toward the mouth of the cave. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have kept a sock from you. Prince Harry will be able to replace it.” 

“My sock?” Y/N’s grip around him is tight, though he is quite sturdy – she doesn’t foresee them going down, but one too many piggybacks that have ended in her following on her bum has her paranoid, “Why?” 

“I will need to trek to town, but I have never been. Harry says Christopher should be told what happened so that he may alert others, but in a less “dragon” version of the story.” 

Y/N doesn’t know what he’ll say, but she’s glad that he may take care of her job and Niall until she can get back, as far as alerting them goes. That way, Y/N wasn’t completely M.I.A., and she wouldn’t have to explain why she disappeared then reappeared with an injury the following day. Especially because Y/N helps her neighbors often throughout the week, and with the weather as bad as it is, people will be wondering where she’s gone. 

Mitch drops her off at the mouth of the cave, just outside the snow. It looks dark and murky inside, and a cold breeze brushes past the opening, making her shiver. It is odd to her that they force themselves to live in these conditions when they could build themselves large homes, most likely with relative ease, considering how strong they are. She knows they’re warm, but is inhabiting a cold, dark, dank cave really necessary to combat that? Where does he even keep all of his pants? When she peers inside, she can’t see much – a faint glow further in, but that’s about it. Her feet are bare against the icy, hardened floors, and when Mitch holds out the sack of her clothes, she wonders if there will be a place to rest them. Hell, will there even be a place for her to rest, even? Or would Harry need to gather supplies to make her a bed? How did he sleep? And if he were royalty, would he live with more wealth, or is it different for dragons? Is he royalty in name alone or in class as well? 

Y/N isn’t sure. Right now, she’s wondering if it would be rude to ask Harry to fly her home, but she thinks if she did, he’d be thrown into a panic. Plus, they need to talk – that’s why she went through all of this trouble anyway, wasn’t it? That’s why her ankle throbs, and there’s a bone-deep chill that has her teeth clicking together, echoing through the cave. It’s why she waits patiently at the front, holding her clothes, giving a small, subtle bow to Mitch, and telling him thank you a hundred times before he leaves. Even if she’s still upset with him, they would be having this talk because the cozy comfort of her cottage on a snowy day had been forfeited for it. An ankle that wasn’t throbbing and a body that wasn’t aching had also been forfeited so that they could get to the bottom of this. 

If she asked to go home, he’d probably drop her off and run, so she’d bear through the icy cave for it to happen.  

She doesn’t have to wait long. Y/N hears the sound of wings again, which she assumes is Mitch. There’s no sound, however, when Harry transforms back into his human body. One second, she’s hugging her own body, shivering, trying to get a hold on her teeth that click and clack and threaten to bite the tip of her tongue off if she moves it too close – then the next, Harry is at her side. There must be loincloths somewhere out there because he isn’t cock out coming toward her, covered just enough, before he opens his arms and holds her tight to his body. 

And as angry as she is with him for avoiding her – for leaving without a word – she melts into his body. She’d lie and say it was for survival if questioned about it, but . . .well, who the hell was going to question her? Y/N lets her cheek mash against his chest and listens to the thump of his heartbeat that lulled her to sleep every night he stayed with her. His arms are protective around her, like two warm blankets wrapped around her body. His hair is a little damp where it hits her forehead, from the snow, but she doesn’t mind.  

Mitch had looped a scarf around her head before they’d left his cave, and Harry very carefully ran his hands over it, flattening it down. He peels away from her to cradle her face in his hands, his palms feel huge against her – it’s probably the same effect as when she does this to dogs or cats she finds ambling around the village. Did Harry view her as a pet to him? He strokes her face with his thumbs, either cheek, and gazes at her like. . .like something. She isn’t sure. She feels as though she’s seen this look once before, when she was a child, but she couldn’t put a name to it, or a place. All she knows is that it makes her heart feel too big for her chest, pushing against the ridges of her ribcage. 

“You’re injured,” he murmurs, as if she didn’t already know, looking down at her ankle, “You mustn’t walk on it. I will carry you.” 

“Really, that’s unnecessary, you can just – oh!” Harry picks her up without hesitation, but she’s carried much like a bride. One arm is resting below her knees, and the other is wrapped around her shoulders. And in the shuffle, Y/N squealed and looped her arm around his neck to feel more sturdy. Harry turns his face away from her, purses his lips, and a thin stream of fire leaves his mouth before he lights a torch fixed against the wall. Then, she watches with absolute delight and awe as the fire carefully beeps and bops around from torch to torch on either side. It must be enchanted in some way, or Harry is doing it with his fingers. She isn’t sure. Despite him being a dragon, she forgets that he can use at least some degree of magic, especially since he hasn’t made her float around in quite a while. Actually, he could have been making her float right now, but instead, he holds her tight to him, like she’s something precious. 

The deeper they walk into the cave, Y/N notices a shift from the dark, icy feeling she’d been experiencing at the mouth of it. Further in, it’s warmer, the lights are brighter, and the space seems more lived in. Y/N is confused at first by the decorations, but she soon sees that they are similar to the things that hang in Christopher’s store. Fabric banners, paintings, statues – all things that Y/N had wondered where they went when he was through with them, imagining that his house was full and overcome by a thousand pieces of artwork and trinkets, she sees that they’ve been given to Harry. 

Nothing besides the lantern holders is fixed to the wall, but the artwork is propped up against it, all different shapes and sizes, some things she could make out, and some she couldn’t. There were paintings of dragons, though, of jewels and riches, of wisteria flowers and fields large and wide open. Huge bodies of water with towers that have blinding light flickering from the top. There are wisteria vines looped and woven around the stone, stalagmites, and stalactites. Some bundles fall out of vases propped on tables of different shapes and sizes. There wasn’t necessarily a method to the decoration, Y/N finds, that everything just seems to be placed haphazardly, like there was a space and he decided to fill it. But it brings life to the cave that Y/N thinks otherwise wouldn’t be there. It’s what she would imagine a zany wizard’s magic shop would look like, if wizards existed (maybe they do – or maybe it’s just witches – or maybe it’s just dragons, who knows). 

What does surprise Y/N is the large bed that sits, looking odd and a little out of place in his cave. There’s a mattress, a bedframe that seems to be made of sheets of stone and rock, and even a base to it, something that Y/N’s own bed at home doesn’t have. The material of the blankets looks opulent, better than anything she’s ever witnessed in her life, and they look new. Where her own sheets and covers are threadbare with time and usage, these look brand new, unused – why does he have these? She’d imagined Harry snuggling up in a nest or finding a tree to perch in. Hell, she’d even just thought perhaps he always sleeps among the wisteria flowers as she’d found him before.  

So why does he have a bed like this? Y/N wants to ask him, but he’s bringing her to the mattress and resting her gently on it. He instantly starts to strip her, and Y/N gasps, grabbing her nightie, “Hey!” 

Harry stares at her, confused, tilting his head, “It is still damp,” he explains, “Do humans not catch illness in conditions like these? I must lay these out to dry with the rest of your clothes.” 

Embarrassment trickles down her spine, “Oh,” she replies, then lets go and lets him strip her. Y/N doesn’t know what she thought – Harry was a dragon, sure, but he wasn’t a prick. She doesn’t think he’d expect to be able to sleep with her after disappearing, especially when he knew from Christopher that she wasn’t happy about it. She’s just feeling on edge, nervous, she’s in pain – and now she feels a bit nervous under his gaze, as he peels the clothes off of her and leaves her bare. 

Harry doesn’t seem concerned with it, however. Despite how cold it is, the bedding is warm (maybe it’s enchanted?)And when he pulls the blankets over her and loops a smaller blanket around her shoulders, covering her breasts, she is toasty. Even though her jaw clicks with a chatter every here and there, she feels quite comfortable. She watches as Harry starts another fire in a pit that sits in the center of the room, a circle carved into the cave floor with rocks that surround it, wood filling the center. He lays her clothes carefully, stretching them out, placing her shoes closer to the fire.  

Afterward, he frets over her. Y/N thinks he’s going to crawl into bed beside her, but he grabs pillows and goes beneath the opposite end of the covers. He lifts it just enough so that he reveals her injured foot, still wrapped, and he plucks it up delicately and rests it carefully on top of two pillows. Harry strokes the pad of his finger along the injury, gently, a small frown over his mouth. 

“Explain to me how this happened.” Y/N would have considered it an order if not for how gentle his tone was. He rests a soft hand against her shin, mindful of where the throbbing begins like he can almost sense the borders of it. Close without being too close, and the comfort of his being near feels nice. 

She cleared her throat, “I spoke to Christopher last night,” she explained, “Or, I suppose, it was a few hours ago. He explained some things to me, and then took me to gorge on high-dollar wine and foods.” Harry’s brows were furrowed, but he was nodding along, encouraging her to continue, “When I returned home, I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to see you. Since you’d left, I had all these questions, and I was just so angry at you before. After hearing what I had, I decided I wanted to hear it from you instead, so I got dressed, and I went to seek you out.” 

Y/N readjusted against the pillows she lies against – she’s still sitting up quite a bit, just at a slant. Harry twitches like he’s going to fluff them behind her back, but she holds her hand out, making sure he stays where he was. If he got any closer to him, she probably wouldn’t be able to think. Would just want to snuggle against his chest and sleep well for the first time in what felt like ages. But they needed to speak before they did anything. And Y/N needed to let him know that just disappearing in the middle of the night hurt her, it really did. 

“Um, I take the same sort of path to find you, but you always find me first, usually. With everything covered in snow, I got confused, so I think I got turned around a bit and lost. I slipped on a rock and tumbled down into a stream, cracked the ice with my body, then got all wet. I’m thankful Mitch was there, but at first I thought he was definitely going to eat me,” Harry growled low, in his chest, and with her uninjured foot, she nudged against his thigh, “Hey, that’s fair though! He didn’t know who I was. You were quite mean when I first met you, too.” 

“Still,” he huffed, “He should have scented me on you.” 

“How could he when you disappeared without a trace, huh? You haven’t been there to – to make me smell like you at all.” 

Harry gets quiet. He lacks the bravado that he usually carries himself with, shoulders slumped, and features pulled into something unsure and worried. This does appear like the dragon that may have been asking Christopher every time he visited if Y/N was doing okay. Like the dragon that probably dropped off the jewels to have him turn them into necklaces and bracelets, divulging his inner thoughts and stressors, then disappearing back to brood and pout in his cave. 

“What happened?” Y/N pressed, sitting up a little straighter, “I had thought. . .maybe it was stupid of me to have thought, but I’d imagined we were much closer than that. I’d let you in my home, in my bed – I let you split my thighs whenever you wanted, and made sure you were fed, but then you just. . .you just left. Without saying anything. And left me a stupid little note,” she huffed, getting worked up thinking about it, “You’d made me feel like I worked in a brothel. Like I was no more than a warm body to you. But maybe I was, I just wish you had told me –” 

“You weren’t! You aren’t –” he grips her leg a little tighter, shaking his head, leaning forward, “You – this – what glows between us is so much more than that.” 

“Then explain to me,” she demanded, frowning, “Explain why you left.” 

Harry’s frown is deep, his face twisted up in something confused and distressed. Christopher was telling the truth – it must be difficult for him to articulate what he’s feeling. For someone who would probably be content communicating in grunts and growls, to ask him to explain intricate feelings might seem a little mean, honestly. But she can’t help but need to know – she has to know. There’s no way around it. Not if she wants any sliver of peace in her life. 

His touch, which had previously become a little rougher at the mention of Mitch scaring her to start, softens once more. It’s careful; gentle against her skin, and still so warm. His lips, flushed red from canines digging into the flesh in thought, open and close several times before he can think to start. Y/N is patient though – she’s never been very patient before, in her life, but she thinks she can be patient for this. Even though every passing second of silence makes her want to vibrate from her bones. 

“I have always had very complicated and complex feelings towards. . .people, outside of my family.” He began, though he stared off at one of the cave walls, like it might have an explanation carved into the mineral, “Both dragons and humans. I discovered from a very young age that it is quite difficult to decipher what people truly feel for you when you’re in a position higher than them. If they were kind, merely to save face. If they were mean out of envy, or if there was truly something to my personality that was unworthy. It never made much sense to me – none of it. So it has always been far easier to shut everyone out – to be by myself, and exist harmoniously alone, with the wisteria, the trees, the comfort of my cave.” He begins to draw delicate loops into her skin, “I’ve never felt love that wasn’t familial in my childhood. I don’t even know what it is supposed to feel like, loving someone outside the realm of blood relation. Even my betrothed, before her murder, I didn’t love her. I felt fond of her, but there was no love – at least, not how anyone has ever described it to me.” 

He takes a small, deep breath, “The love I feel for Mitch is brotherly. What I feel for Christopher is something close, I believe – it’s a fondness that runs deeply, for as long as we’ve been in one another’s lives. But with you. . .with you, it is much more intricate and delicate. I am – I am unsure if dragons are capable of being fated mates with humans. I’ve never read any literature about it; I’ve combed through all of my writings and teachings here, and have even flown home to see if there was anything that was kept, but I continue to come up short. It is said in this world, you are created as a whole, then cleaved in two, destined to roam the world, finding your missing half. There’s no sense that this whole would be half dragon and half human. Why would it even be possible?” Y/N doesn’t know if the question is rhetorical or not – he genuinely seems to be asking, like he wants an answer – like he thinks, maybe, for some reason, she might have it – but she remains silent. 

“It is no grandiose thing, finding your mate. You just know, when you see them – can feel it deep in your marrow. There’s this pressing urge and desire to provide for them, to be near to them, to protect, claim, and mark them. So when I met you, I. . .I am always distrustful of humans. The scent and sight of you when I was in such a vulnerable state put me on edge, but when I heard your voice – when you got closer to me, when your hands just barely grazed my leg, it felt. . .weird to me. Buzzing, tingling, something beyond anything that I’ve ever felt before. And after you left, it was all I could think about.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but cut him off then, “But you kept sending me away?” She reminded him, “Remember? At the start, you wanted nothing to do with me.” 

“I wanted everything to do with you,” Harry stressed, frowning, “With this-this tiny human, clearly scared but not scared enough to leave me hurt and stranded. Who fussed at me for growling, even while her hands shook. Telling me that she wasn’t clever enough to be a trickster, that you just wanted to help me. I almost went crazy – I think I might have. The little strip of cloth smelled so much like you, I slept with it near my head, even after I removed it, covered in blood.” His face glows pink like he hadn’t necessarily meant to admit that, and he pauses for a second to collect his thoughts before continuing, still dragging his claws in careful circles around her leg, “I thought maybe after some time these feelings would unleash me, but they refused, even two months later when I brought you my repayment. And with that, I had settled in myself that this was enough as well. To see you one last time. To see if it felt as. . .as it had before.” 

Y/N’s brows crinkled, “Did it?” She pressed. 

Harry nods, “It felt even worse. Like I needed to be with you all of the time.” 

“I’m just confused, because you were so–you were so mean! You used to throw me out of the forest, even, but you wanted to see me all the time? Dragons make no sense.” 

He smiles gently, despite her fussing, and nods again, “I know,” he tells her, “It just didn’t make any sense to me, is all. Christopher is one thing – he is a human I’ve known since he was a little child, and our relationship is primarily transactional in nature. But you felt different, and it scared me. I thought maybe, if I pushed you away, then I’d eventually forget these confusing feelings and continue as I wished. But you always came back, no matter how rough I was with you. And then my heat. . .” 

“My body is not typically responsive to others, both in and out of heat, though during it is much worse. I’ve had my fair share of offers to help me through it by courtesans and the like, but I couldn’t stomach it. The scent, the stimulation – all of it was too much for me. It always has been, no matter whether male or female dragon, I rejected their advances and suffered through the brunt of it alone. Then you came, with your basket of pies, smelling so sweet, touching my horns, and I had never so badly wanted to bed someone more. My teeth ached to bite into your throat, my knot was throbbing at the base of my prick, and the desire to take care of you in all ways was so intense that I could no longer ignore it. But I was courting you, and you were receptive, and in a state like my heat, that was really nice, because there were no trivial thoughts then. All my thoughts were directed toward you and only you; that was all.” 

“But when it ended, and I woke up, and the haze of it had settled – I was so embarrassed. I hadn’t discussed anything with you prior, and it felt like I had taken advantage of your kindness, and I–I still wanted you. The guilt weighed heavily on my body that I hadn’t explained anything to you beforehand. I didn’t even know if you felt it too, what I was feeling – if that’s why you kept coming back to me. Then I’d worried maybe you were, and I’d practically preyed on you without you knowing, and I got myself so worked up that I had to leave.”

Y/N’s pout is still present on her lips, “I – that really hurt me, Harry,” she admitted, “I wish you had just spoken to me, is all. I would have understood more than you’d thought I would have, you know? And instead, I just spent all this time angry with you and upset with myself for being so easy for it. I felt so –” her face feels hot, “I felt really safe with you there, yeah? I had never slept so peacefully, and in the winter no less. I was happy and cozy, and my feelings for you had proliferated into something. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was something. And then you just up and left.” 

Harry, for the first time since they started this discussion, moves. He slides off the side of the bed onto his knees – Y/N is confused at first, until he drops down into a full bow. Her eyes grow wide, “Hey, get up –” 

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and it sounds so desperately sincere that it slices right through her heart. His forehead touches his knuckles, “I mean this, from the bottom, the middle, and the top of my heart. With all of me that lives and breathes, I will never be able to express how much I regret leaving as I did. The thought of causing you any distress, to make you question how much I want you, or what I want you for – makes me feel ill. I will spend every day trying to make it up to you, if you’ll allow me to. I’ll give you anything – my jewels, my cave, my mind, my body – anything.” 

She feels – Y/N doesn’t know how she feels. To have this dragon prince bowing before her, in a position she doesn’t think Harry would ever allow himself to be in front of anyone, is beyond anything she could even begin to comprehend. Her face is still flushed and warm, she feels embarrassed to have someone doing this in front of her, and she leans forward out of the pillows, “Harry, stop it,” she reaches her hand out, “Come on, get back in the bed.” 

Harry lifts his head, his gaze meeting hers from the floor, “For some, this may seem shameful,” he tells her, “But I would gladly do it in front of anyone, if it proved to you my sincerity. I’ll fly you to my parents and bow before you in front of them. I’ll take you to the middle of town when all of the humans are at their busiest in the center of it, and bow before you there. I’ll fly you from place to place to place, all over this world, to prove my devotion and my gratitude and my apologies. I’m so sorry.” 

It’s a lot – it’s more than anyone has ever done in an apology to her, if she ever even receives one at all. She thinks that the most anyone has apologized for hurting her feelings is a quick, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” and that was about it, before stalking off and making her feel like she was the silly one for being upset. But it seems as if the knowledge of this is genuinely devastating to him. Y/N feels a pull in her chest – a clawing ache, like his affliction is her own. Is this what it means? Y/N isn’t sure. Had he just put it in her head? But there was something she’d always felt with him, part of the reason why she just couldn’t leave him alone. 

“I understand,” she nods, holding out her hands, “Harry, I do, I understand you’re sorry, and I’m trying to accept it, but please get back on the bed.” 

He does – he crawls back on, only instead of going back to her foot, he moves to sit at her side. He still leaves a healthy amount of space between them, like he doesn’t want to push an unknown boundary. Y/N musters the strength of her upper body to scoot closer to him, using one hand to grip his bare thigh. Her fingers dip into the muscle, and it gives easily – he’s not tense at all. At his most open and vulnerable. She thinks, if she’d ask, he’d roll over and expose his belly to her. 

With her other hand, she slides her knuckles against his, slotting their fingers together and squeezing, “If – if you really have feelings for me, then we need to be able to communicate. Even if it’s hard – I don’t want the only time you’re able to open up is when you’re in your heat, okay?” 

Harry’s eyes are all over her face, like he’s trying to soak in every little cell that makes up her face. He looks so soft, his gaze falls to her mouth, then goes back to her eyes, locking with her and nodding, “Yes,” he tells her, “When we – if we accept these feelings for each other and revel in the bond, then we will feel each other, even more than we do now. Our moods, our emotions – that will make it a bit easier for me to understand you, and vice versa. But if the ultimatum is being vulnerable and open with you, or not having you at all, then I will give you my heart and every thought in my mind easily.” Then, he squeezes her hand, “Do you. . .do you accept my feelings for you?” 

Y/N smiled gently, “Yes.” 

“And, perhaps. . .well, do you have – do you feel something for me? Maybe this bond is one-sided? That’s – I fear that, because I don’t understand the details of this, but I will respect it, and your wishes. Is the Niall boy the one who has your heart?” 

Her face screws up, “The only thing Niall has of mine is my last nerve,” she clicks her tongue, “I like you, Harry, that’s why I was so upset when you left me.” Harry pulls her hand up to his mouth, lacing kisses over the back of it, dotting her knuckles before rubbing it against his cheek, “And I’d be interested in understanding this bond with you. I want to be with you, and – and I don’t want to be apart again, like that, ever.” 

Harry smiles, his dimples peek out from their hiding spots on his cheek, and his teeth gleam even in the low, firelight of the cave. Y/N thinks that if he presses her hand any closer to his face, it will melt into his body, but she can tell that he’s feeling everything just as deeply as she is right now. Maybe even more than she could, since he understands what it’s like to be fated more than she did. Y/N doesn’t know what it all means, or what to really make of it, but what she does know is that she’s never been calmer and more content in her life. Outside of her cottage, probably hundreds of kilometers deep into the forest, injured in a cave with a dragon – and she’s felt safer than she has in weeks since he ran off. 

She wants to kiss him. There’s something that plucks at her insides that encourages it, especially with how he’s looking at her, like she had just hung the moon and the stars for him. Like she’d constructed his cave for him. Like she’d been placed on this planet to complete him. Y/N leans forward and presses their lips together carefully, gently, in something tender and soft. Harry freezes for a moment, and Y/N worries that she made the wrong move, before his jaw tilts and he experimentally reciprocates, pushing back. 

Y/N doesn’t stay long, letting the peck linger for a couple of seconds before pulling back. She looks all over his face, eyes darting around to see if there was any hesitation or regret that warped his features. Instead, she’s met with a very moony-eyed dragon, whose scales speckle parts of his skin as they did during his heat, and his horns sit on his head. As if he’s letting himself relax fully, the more animal parts of him are revealed. 

“Was that okay?” She asks gently, and Harry hums, nodding happily. 

“It was so soft,” he murmurs, lifting his free hand fingers to his lips like he was remembering it, “I – have only had my lips pressed once with another's and it felt nothing as soft and tender.” He squeezes her hand again, leaning forward, “Can we do it again?” 

Y/N giggles, nodding, and he initiates it this time with a smear of his lips against hers. There’s less hesitation this time; he’s more urgent, and he fits her bottom lip between his. It’s with the soft exploration of a first kiss. Y/N doesn’t remember hers at all, but she wonders if he’ll remember this. If he’ll think about this next month, the month after, the year after. Will he look at it fondly? He’s warm against her, his lips are wet, and they’re soft too, but he’s acting like hers are as soft as he’s ever felt. 

Harry is the one who delicately licks her mouth. He is careful about it, so he has some idea about kissing – she’s unsure how, and she’d find it out later, but right now, all she can focus on is him. Y/N opens her lips and lets him lick inside, their tongues touch, and it’s wet, soft. Harry holds her side of her face, but Y/N is the one who has to tilt his head and lace her tongue with his. Harry picks up on it quickly, massaging their tongues together, and he tastes better than any man she’s ever kissed before. 

He’s careful, his hand leaving her cheek and sliding his hand to the back of her head, and holding her against him. He suckles at her bottom lip tenderly, his fingers slip through her hair, threading the strands, and the gentle skim of his nails sends goosebumps down her arms. Harry kisses slowly, leisurely, like they have all the time in the world – and maybe they do. They stay attached until her lungs burn with the need to breathe, and she has to pull away. But Harry chases after her, following her lips, letting them touch for a second before Y/N laughs again, putting her hand in front of his mouth to stop him. 

A grumble rumbles through him, “I have to breathe, you know?” She teased him, shaking her head, “You’re–you learn fast.” 

“I like that – I like that a lot. I want to do that more,” he murmured, “Can we do that again?” 

“Yes,” she replies, “But I think I need to sleep. And my ankle – it hurts a little – oh!” 

Harry moved quickly, all but jumping off the bed and going to a pot that was near the fire, “I’m sorry,” he was carefully pulling the lid off the pot and bringing it to her bedside, “I meant to do this when you came in, but I was distracted by you.” He stops and grabs a piece of cloth as well. Harry goes to the end of the bed, flips the cover again, and exposes her leg. 

Y/N is unsure what he’s doing, but she knows that whatever it is, as soon as he brushes the substance from the pot onto her ankle, the throbbing almost instantly soothes once it hits her skin. Y/N breathes out a sigh of relief, relaxes into the pillows. “Oh, that’s – that’s really nice,” she smiles, her eyes closing for a moment, then peeking open to see Harry wrapping her ankle again. Then he leans forward, presses a kiss to her knee, and then covers her leg again. 

Harry crawls up to her side again, only this time, instead of kissing her breathless, he fluffs her pillows and then looks like he’s about to leave the bed again. Y/N reaches out and grabs him, frowning, “Where are you going?” 

“I was going to keep watch on –” 

“Lay with me,” she demands, “I want you to lie with me.” 

Harry pauses at first, like he doesn’t know what to do, but then listens. He crawls into bed with her, and he snuggles into her side, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her in close without moving her leg too much. The warmth seeps into her bones, her body melts into his hold, and for the first time in so long, she feels complete and utter peace as she snuggles in close. She tilts her face into his chest, and the skin of her cheek presses flush against him. 

He dips his head into her hair and breathes in deep, “I’ve missed you so desperately,” he murmured, “Sleep well, my little human.”

                                                               .                         .                       .

Living in the cave is nice for a while. 

Harry definitely makes it comfortable, and with the snow, she would have been stuck indoors anyway. Actually, rather, she would have been forced out in the icy cold to help out her older neighbors. Or she would have trekked to see Niall, who whines and cries about the weather, and never has any meals or food prepared for the start of it. All of that while trying to sort her own stuff out – it’s hard, but she doesn’t mind being helpful. Even if she’d like to enjoy her snow day as well, considering the bakery would most likely be closed. 

But here, in this cave, Y/N doesn’t have to do much of anything. She wakes when her body stirs her (or when she notices Harry has left the bed) and goes to sleep when her body asks for rest. Y/N is always waking to food, either already made or being prepared; soups with delicious broth and high-quality meats and vegetables made by fire and stone. She’s kept warm, not only by Harry’s body heat, but by expensive garments – clothing that she would have never wished to have had for herself (Harry explains to her that they are his sister;s, who – admittedly – had sent him with troughs of her clothes in case he ever decided to marry as a gift to his partner, if a woman was who he chose; Y/N also learned that his sister doesn’t enjoy the loin cloth way of life). The fabrics were durable but still pretty, and Y/N felt nice in them, even if she was just lounging around a cave. 

He helps her get in and out of clothes, he feeds her by hand if she’ll allow it – hell, even when she wants to take a drink, he brings the brim of a mug to her lips instead of handing it to her. One would think she’d broken her hand, with how little Harry makes her use them. The most he’ll allow is when she wants to touch him, trace her fingers through his hair to scratch at his scalp, loop her hands around his own to squeeze and hold, or when she pokes and prods at his biceps, his chest, his belly – all the soft and big parts of him. 

But that’s about it. Everything else, Harry takes care of. 

It was nice. Y/N thought that she’d hate to be waited on hand and foot, but she thinks that she deserves it a little bit. Not only for how hard she works for everyone else on a day-to-day basis, but because she thinks this was Harry’s way of expressing his apologies and making it up to her. She likes being doted on; she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that, especially when the chances to be doted on are few and far between. Y/N enjoys it, especially when the person doting on her makes her insides squish and twist and tingle and glow. 

They kiss a lot, too. Harry was obsessed; once they finally shared one. Y/N learns that he’d really never kissed anyone, but he did use to watch people (she called him a creep), so he would know what to do when the time came. Dragons have brothels, too, it turns out, so he knew the general mechanics of it; he’d just never tried so himself. He never wanted to, he told her, and the time someone had kissed him before it had caught him off guard. 

“It was someone I did my classes with,” he told her flippantly, “And it was an accident. They thought I was someone else, high on peyote root. Afterward, they begged me not to hang them – it was not much for a first kiss.” 

Harry always wants to kiss her. Murmurs against her mouth how soft her lips are, compliments the taste of her tongue, licks against every little part of her he can reach. He flickers at her palate, against her teeth, sucks her tongue, and moans against her while he does it. Y/N thinks, if she let him, he would kiss her for hours. Sometimes she thinks that they’re just about close enough to an hour as is, with how bruised her lips feel, worn and tingly from where he’d been pressed against her. Harry’s are always flushed bright red and bitten, slick with spit. When she needs a break to breathe, he busies himself with her throat, whispers proclamations of devotion against her skin, and promises to never leave her again. He purrs the whole time, too, like he couldn’t be more pleased and content, like a happy cat.

He still whispers how sorry he is to her when they’re snuggled in bed for the night. 

Harry takes her outside often, too. He prepares her warmly for the cold and only starts letting her limp beside him when she’d explained that if she didn’t use her leg at all, her muscles would wither and lose strength. Still, he all but demands that she lean her full weight into him, and he takes most of the pressure off of her injury. The first time she’d left the peaceful and dimly lit cave, it had been a shock to her senses. Not only how cold and windy it still was, but how bright. She’d grimaced against the sunlight at first, hovering her hand above her eyes to block some of it out so she could see better. The cave sat rather high up on the mountain, several kilometers higher than what appeared to be some of the tallest trees she’s ever seen. It felt weird to be seeing the tops of them, but it was beautiful – all covered in snow. The world below them was untouched by man or dragon, it seemed – just nature as is, covered in a blanket of crystals that sparkle and bounce light off the ground. 

Mitch comes by once too. They don’t meet him deep inside the cave at all – Y/N believes Harry had said something about it being their “nest” and how it was improper for another dragon to enter it – so they met him toward the entrance as well. He returns her sock, brings a couple of her garments, and tells them that Christopher has been notified. 

“He said he would come up with something quickly,” Mitch told them, “Some story he would conjure about a cousin.” 

So work was taken care of at least, and nobody would think that she was rotting away in her cottage either. They’d know she was gone, so there’d be no stress, and hopefully no explosive reunions in the middle of the village when they see her again. It would give her at least a little time until she could walk entirely on her own with a slight limp. 

In the meantime, while Harry pampers her like she was royalty and pulls out a book of ancient dragon texts about soulmates and soul bonds. Y/N can’t read it because it was in whatever dragon language that Harry speaks. He reads some of it to her in his language, with his dialect, and Y/N can’t even begin to understand or describe it. But it sounds pretty, and there are noises and letters she thinks she couldn’t make with her own mouth, no matter how hard she tried. He explains everything they read, after a full paragraph at a time. Y/N is trying hard to pay attention, but she gets distracted by watching his mouth move. 

When Harry describes his knot, though, Y/N doesn’t get distracted at all. 

She remembers it so vividly how it pressed against her. How it felt when it was snuggled between her legs before he emptied his load all over her. It was crazy to her that she had been so close to actually getting it, but Harry had never taken the plunge and actually fucked her with it. But she wanted it – she seriously did, so bad, no matter how much he told her it would stretch and hurt and burn. After that, she knew it would feel good. Hadn’t she been made for him, after all? That’s what he keeps telling her. 

She knew that he was worried, though. Was well aware of how absolutely nervous Harry had been about actually fucking her. She’s shocked that they’d gotten through his heat, content on licking between her folds and grinding against the mattress for most of it. But now, she knows. Now, she’s well aware that Harry has never slept with anyone at all before. 

He’d explained it himself per Y/N’s request, scratching at the nape of his neck and looking extremely bashful. It’s cute how pink his cheeks get when he discusses it. Y/N can just barely make out that reddened hue when he tells her, “I’ve never knotted anyone before,” while his gaze darted everywhere but her own, “Everything else I was okay with doing, to release steam, but I always thought that maybe I would. . .I would save my knot for someone. I know it’s embarrassing.” 

“That’s not embarrassing,” she tells him, legs crossed on the bed – this is the first time she’s been able to sit like this, now that moving her leg doesn’t hurt so badly, “Not at all! It actually makes sense why you were so hesitant to give it to me, then.” 

Harry didn’t agree, however, with big eyes as he shook his head, “What? No! I wanted to give you my knot so badly. Just – when I found out you were human, I was too worried. I’m telling you, there hasn’t been much research on Dragon/Human relationships, and I worried that my knot would be far too much for that little hole to handle.” 

He’s not intentionally speaking dirty, she knows that, but even in his earnestness, the words sound absolutely filthy. Y/N squeezed the cover at her sides, looking at him with a tilted head, “You know, humans push babies out of there, don’t they? And the size of a baby's head, I think, is bigger than your knot.” 

“But they are in pain,” he worried, shaking his head, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I still don’t.” 

And here’s the thing – Y/N needs him desperately. Not hurt her, or anything, but to fill her up. To let his knot catch at her entrance and stretch her out – she knows it would feel like a lot, maybe even too much, but it’s something that she craves deep down. She wondered if this was due to the bond or if she was just a pervert. She didn’t want to ask Harry just in case he told her it was the latter.  But after he told her, she felt significantly empty – and then she realized that in the time he’s left, she also hasn’t even thought of touching herself. Her insides are all pent up, so the thought of being the first person  Harry has ever knotted sends her spiraling into incredibly filthy thoughts.  

So she does the only thing she can think to do. Y/N plans on seducing him. If he’s too worried about how small she is, then she’d start the process – she’d begin stretching herself out, and then he could take over afterward. She thinks that would be the easiest way to do it. Though she was starting to worry that she wouldn’t be able to fulfill her plan until she was back at home, considering Harry didn’t like to leave her alone for any amount of time, her opportunity arose one afternoon as the snow had begun to melt. Y/N had whined enough about wanting something sweet, and once Harry told her about these berries that grew where the wisteria do, even in the winter, even in the heavy snow – she pleaded with him to go get them. Though it didn’t take much pleading – she thinks she could ask Harry for a kidney and he’d figure out a way to give her one that day. 

Before he left, Y/N kissed him. It’s not hard to get Harry to kiss her – all she has to do is pucker her lips, and he melts into her effortlessly. They smear their mouths together, and Harry guides her through it, sliding their tongues alongside each other. He always gets hard when they kiss, but he treats the situation very delicately and doesn’t ask for anything. Y/N doesn’t know if he thinks he’s not allowed to, since she was upset or what, but she needed that to stop. Immediately, instantly, right freaking now. 

When he parted from her, a thin string of spit connected their lips in something filthy and sweet, before Harry licked it away, “Okay,” he murmured, “I must go now, Pet, I’ll be right back.” 

Y/N is always quite worked up after their kisses, so when he’s out of sight, and she sinks her hand beneath the blanket and up under her skirt, she isn’t surprised to find herself drippy and wet between her thighs. She allowed herself one little loop over her swollen button to make her toes curl before passing it to get to her hole, where Harry worried that he’d split her right in two. She has to remind herself a couple of times that this isn’t necessarily for pleasure right now, when she slipped two fingers in and started scissoring herself out and open. This position is not the best – her fingers aren’t anywhere near long enough to poke and push at the swollen button inside of her, either, though she does pass it by accident every so often. 

But it feels good, still. Maybe it was best she waited until she was so needy for it, because sliding in a third finger comes a little easier than she’d imagined. Her walls clench down, ridges and all, and she can feel herself leak around her knuckles. She could take his knot just fine – she remembers how it felt, against her, how big it was, and she thinks she’d be able to handle it. Look how well she was taking three of her fingers! She knew that she could take his fingers well, too, all thick and knobby. Harry could even stretch her a little more, if that’s what he wanted. Y/N could take it. 

A fourth finger, and Y/N is teething on the pillow. She didn’t want to be too noisy – the sounds would echo in the cave, surely, and she didn’t want to lure any unwanted attention toward her. Still, muffled whines wet the fabric of the feather-filled cotton when her hips start to rock down into her own fingers. The heel of her palm grinds against her clit, feeling even more swollen now than it had started, with practically her whole hand inside of herself.  And it was just enough stimulation that she could feel an orgasm tingling along the edges of her periphery. A buzzing in her toes, a hot coil in her belly, the point of no return when she knew that even removing her hand from herself would be a fruitless attempt – she would be cumming whether she wanted to or not. 

“What’s this?” Harry is at the side of the bed before Y/N could even realize he was inside the cave. Her scream echoes, and she clamps down around her fingers, having tipped over the edge, but her orgasm is effectively ruined by his sudden appearance, “I could smell your honey pot from outside of the cave. I thought I was making it up, but –” he rests the basket of berries down on the trunk beside the bed, then uses his other hand to peel the blanket off her body. His eyes darken when she’s revealed to him, and Y/N thinks she probably makes a perverted sight for sure. Dress rucked up over her waist, fingers tucked inside of herself, potentially a wet spot forming beneath her on the sheets below. 

Was he disgusted? Was he upset? He wasn’t saying anything but staring, and white knuckling the blanket he was holding to keep his view clear. Y/N feels breathless, chest heaving, and a little sweaty, “S-sorry,” she apologizes, though she doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for. All she knows is that Harry staring at her feels like someone pointing a thin stream of fire at her body, carving its way around wherever they look, “I – uh –” 

“Do not apologize,” he slowly crawls into bed, at the foot of it, between her legs, “I missed you so much when you were gone,” he says, another moment of vulnerability and honesty, “And I missed her too. Saw you both in my sleep.” There’s something extra filthy about him referring to her vagina as its own entity, but it does something for her. Something filthy and amazing. Something that makes her mouth water. 

“I want you,” she admits, her tone urgent, spreading her legs wider for him, and Harry looks like he’s going to eat her, “Please? I want your knot, I know I can take it.” 

Harry’s hand grips the tender flesh of her inner thigh, squeezing tight, his nails dipping into the skin, “Here you go with that,” he murmurs, “My sweet little human, with her big aspirations. You want my cock, hm? So you stretched your tiny hole around your fingers? You think that’ll be enough?” 

“Then stretch me the rest of the way,” she slides her fingers out of herself, and she wonders what he sees when they leave – does she gape, even just a little, for him? A tantalizing hole for him to sink into? “C’mon, make it fit, I want you to make it fit.” 

Harry takes her wrist – she’s reminded once again how easily it would be for him to snap it in two if he really wanted – before pulling her fingers to his mouth. He licks and sucks on them like a man starved, all while dancing two of his fingertips along her folds, puffy and slick for him. They both moan at the same time when he dips two fingers in with ease, the stretch much more intense than when she had two of her own inside. His thumb meets her clit, and he swirls it in circles while his tongue weaves and dips between her fingers. Even when he’s done cleaning them, he drags his tongue down to the center of her palm, presses and sucks kisses there, too. He licks down to her wrist and lets the sharp point of his canine rest above her pulse point, keeping her pressed to his mouth, moaning loudly. His eyes gleam their purple, and Y/N is endeared that every time he’s horny like this, his eyes can’t help but look like stars. 

Hips rocking into the feeling, Y/N grabs onto the pillow above her head as she works them down against him. It feels good – so fucking good, and she moans when he slides a third finger in. Again, the stretch was more intense – he was just bigger than her, all over, his hands were massive. Even when he was fucking her with his fingers at home, two is usually where he would stop with her clit between his lips, sucking and pulling at it until she wet the bottom half of his chin. 

And when the fourth finger slid inside of her – Y/N cums. Unprompted, unwarned, it floods over her like she’d been thrown into water. Her legs tremble, her mouth falls open into a broken sound – she moans, and it probably isn’t the prettiest sound in the world, but Harry’s eyes don’t leave her, as she milks his fingers. Despite how often he made her cum while he was in his heat, each time he looked at her like it was his first time witnessing it. He uses his free hand now to frame her hips at first, then slide along her lower belly, “You cum so beautifully on my fingers,” he tells her, sounding drunk off her taste, “I want to devour you – eat you whole. You’re so cute, my little human, my honey pot.” 

“I’m ready,” she tells him, twitching and sensitive over his four fingers, “Please, I need to feel you inside, you made me wait for too long.” 

Harry pouts his lips at her, “I know, baby, I know. Poor little thing,” he carefully removed his fingers, and now she definitely thinks she gapes for him, if his eyes trained on her pussy is anything to go by, “I can’t believe I made you wait for so long. Pretty baby,” he sighs, removing the small skirt of cloth that had been covering him. His prick is tenting it beforehand, looking ten times bigger in comparison to the fabric. He looks even bigger than when she’d seen him last, somehow now swallowed by the sheer size of this cave, and this bed. Everything looks big in her cottage, sure, because it was not made for a dragon, but even in this big, open space, he still seems larger than life. 

He uses the juices that still cling to his fingers to slick up his cock. There’s already precum leaking from the tip, so the ruddy head glistens when the firelight hits it just right. Her mouth waters at the sight of it – she wonders how long it would take to convince him to let her mouth on it, the best she could. There was no hope that it would fit in her throat, that’s for sure, but she could try. Let her lips drag against it, suckle at the head, scrape her teeth against the sensitive skin, dig her tongue into his slit. Maybe she could mouth at his knot, too – would he like that? Would it make him buck his hips into her? Could he pop a knot just from that? There are so many things she must discover. 

But right now, she doesn’t want to break whatever bubble they’re in right now. He fists his hand around the thick base and uses his grip to tap his cock against her slit. The sound is soft and wet, a little “thwack thwack” that sends fizzles through her stomach. She’s sensitive, sure, but Y/N could go a couple of rounds without being completely overstimulated. So she knew she could handle this, even while her juices dripped from her last orgasm, slipping down between her cheeks, wetting her other hole. Harry has her legs up and spread, and Y/N helps out by getting her forearms snuggled behind her knees, pulling them to her chest.

Harry drags the head up and down her slit like he’s painting with it. Every so often, he’ll nudge the tip against his hole, and Y/N’s breathing hitches each time. Even that much feels good, though it’s like he’s teasing her. He dips the very tip in then leaves again, like he’s testing the waters. Dipping a toe into a hot bath, just to make sure it won’t scald him.  It’s the fourth time that he does it, when Y/N whines, hips twitching, but he keeps her held down with a sturdy hand over her hipbone. 

“Shhhh,” he coos, “Just feeling you, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, continuing his movements. Harry does it at least three more times before he finally sinks more than just the very tip in. Y/N feels herself stretch around the head, her walls giving way to make room for him. Her mouth falls open, but no sound leaves her as he moves, slow and steady inside of her. Y/N had worried he’d tease her some more, go in and out until she properly begged, but he graced her with this. Sunk down to the root, until the clear swell of his knot stopped him. The growl that leaves him rumbles through both of them, while he feels Y/N’s cunt squeeze and milk around him while she accommodates his size. 

He’s big – he’s really fucking big, she’s known that, but feeling it is ten times different. Harry has stretched her further than she’s ever been stretched before, and it’s mind-numbing. Not painful – there’s a little, subtle burn that she feels, but nothing that truly hurts. Her fingers dig into her own thighs, and finally, a small but guttural sound leaves her throat. At the risk of sounding cliché, it feels like a part of her was just clicked right into place. Maybe it was the bond, or maybe she was just worked up – she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t care. She just knows that it feels good and right, more right than she’s ever felt being with anyone before. 

Harry starts to move his hips, subtle rolls at first that grow bigger and bigger the more time that passes. Y/N swallows thickly around the spit in her mouth to stop from drooling, but it gets more and more difficult the more he moves. The little patches of scales show again, his horns sit pretty on top of his head. Watching the muscles in his body ripple and shift as he rocks into her is doing something to her head. He’s so big everywhere, it makes her feel so small, and safe, and horny – it’s very confusing. She needs him to fill up all her spaces, keep her full 24/7. 

“You’re so tight,” he shivers, pulling one leg away from her grasp and straightening out, holding it against his body. Her ankle rests right at his face, and he mouths at the bone, letting his tongue drag against it, “So warm and tight. You fit me perfectly, baby. I should have fucked you sooner. Should’ve made you mine right in the forest, the first time we officially met in this form. You would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you?” She moans, nodding, reaching with her now free hand to grab at him, her fingers digging into his side. Harry grinds inside of her, pulls back, and fucks in hard, creates a pace that makes it hard for her to think, “A big, mean dragon bullying his cock inside of your cunt. Would’ve made you whine and cry on it. Fucked you so good that you’d have asked me to take you back to my cave right then and there, huh, baby?” 

Y/N feels a little delirious, with every buck of his hips, his balls are big and swollen, slapping against her bum. His knot is getting bigger; she can feel it every time it pushes up against her hole. Her head spins with the need for it, her toes curl when he drags his teeth against her calf, “Yes, yes, yes,” she agrees, a yes for each thrust, and Harry chuckles, warm and low; it tickles her insides. 

“Yeah, I should’ve,” he keeps going, growling when she starts to clamp down on him – another orgasm is building rapidly, “With how this pussy is sucking me in, you would’ve gone with me so easily. Sweet baby, it feels so good, doesn’t it? To finally have your cunt stretched how it was meant to be? You’re my mate,” Y/N moans, “Made for me. Made to take this big cock – made to me filled up and plugged with my fat knot. I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” he grabs her breast, kneading it with his left hand, getting her nipple between two of his knuckles so he could pinch it in between, “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll keep you so full that you’ll never have to ask for it again.” 

When Y/N’s orgasm washes over her, she cries out. Her back arches, and Harry drops her leg so that he can press their fronts together. He connects their lips, swallowing all the sounds that leave her, muffled against his mouth as he groans in kind. That’s when she can feel it, truly, the way he starts to grind into her a little harder, more sure. The swell of his knot catches at her stretched hole, but he really has to focus, readjusting her hips, stretching her thigh, all while chasing his own high. Y/N can feel herself leaking around him, almost like her body is trying to aid him in getting it inside (she really was made for him). 

It pops through, and while she expects Harry to growl, instead, he gives a whimpered sound. It matches her own as she feels it swell the rest of the way inside of her, locking into place. Harry bites down into the juncture of her neck and shoulder; she’s pretty sure he pierces the skin at least a little bit when she feels the warm drip of her own blood sliding past his mouth. The throbbing inside of her is intense, strong, like his cock would be kicking and bucking with each shot of cum he’s unloading. He soothes the bite with his tongue, sucking and kissing at the skin while he keeps rocking his hips, grinding into her until she’s all twitchy and her hips mix between bucking toward and away from him. 

As they catch their breath, Harry purrs. It’s become one of her favorite things, she thinks – it makes her feel extra cozy, warm, and soft all over. Their chests heave together (or, more like, Y/N’s chest heaves and Harry’s stretched on top of her so his goes up and down with hers), and she realizes only when Harry’s tongue drags up the corner of her mouth that she’d been drooling. He presses his lips to hers but only briefly, like he knows she’ll need the chance to get air in her lungs (he’s gotten much better at that – giving her little breaks), before he looks at her shoulder, where he bit. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, nuzzling just below the bite mark, “I bit too hard.” 

“Don’t apologize,” she wraps her arms around him, her fingers finding his hair again as they always do. It’s soft, untangled, the curls are pretty – one day she’ll ask him if she can braid it, “I like when you bite. Like when you’re a little rough.” 

He giggles, against her, “My little masochistic human,” he kisses over the bite mark, “We’ll be locked together for quite a while. Let me know if you are uncomfortable, and I’ll try my best to ease it.” 

Y/N is warm under him. She’s cozy, and she’s full of him. Her ankle doesn’t hurt, her mind is at complete and utter ease – she’s very happy. She doesn’t know how she could be uncomfortable at all. 

Instead of answering, she nuzzles closer into him, “I love you,” she tells him, feeling soft and content, but she actually didn’t mean to just let it out like that. What if that was too soon? Her heart dropped to her stomach when she tried to back track, “Or, wait, is that too much to say? Is – do dragons – is this normal or –” 

“I love you too,” he answers softly, and she feels him throb inside of her again, “More than I could ever describe to you.” 

                                                               .                              .                             .

“Thank god, you’re back!” Niall exclaimed when Y/N walked through the door of the bakery, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I missed you, and your stupid rambles, and your food. It’s too hard to keep this place running by myself, and everyone is like ten times nicer to you than they are to me, have you noticed?” Y/N laughed, shrugging her coat off her shoulders, “Are you okay? How’s your cousin? Did the horse leave any underlying damage?” 

She’d forgotten that Christopher was told to make a story as to why she wasn’t around while she was with Harry. Y/N had been gone for about a week and a half, so she supposes it would make sense for him to give a reason she’d need to be gone that long. And to have left in the middle of the night too. With her neighbors, she would probably keep up the ruse, but with Niall, she found no need. 

“Oh, that was a lie,” she told him, then pointed outside, “I went out in the snow to go confront Harry, but then I slipped and hurt my ankle. His dragon friend took me to his cave, then I rode on the back of Harry to his cave when he came to get me, and I’ve spent my time away being rehabilitated with dragon herbs and medicines.” She explained, all while she switched into her apron, “Christopher just told that lie so nobody would be wondering where I was.” 

Niall blinks at her a couple of times, brows raised, “Oh! Wow, okay, um – wow – well, did you and the dragon make amends? You seemed sort of out of sorts when he left before. I figured you two were fighting.” 

The doorbell dings brightly, but instead of an early customer, it is Harry who walks in. He is in bright silks today, dressed head to toe in the way you’d assume a prince would be. “We are no longer fighting,” Harry answers for her, “We are mates now.” 

“Wow, mates? Like – like how wolves are or –” 

“Mates how dragons are,” Harry replied, and he came close to Niall, wrapping one arm around him and pulling him into what Y/N assumes was supposed to be a hug but looks more like a chokehold, “You are important to her, so now you are important to me. If anything brings you distress or discomfort, tell me, and I’ll see to it accordingly.” 

Niall wheezes, “Oh, wow, thanks, I-I really appreciate it.” 

“Perfect. Now, make me a pie filled with meat again, it was quite good.” 

Y/N giggled at Niall’s wild gaze when he stepped behind the counter to get to work. Harry slides up beside Y/N, nuzzling into the side of her face, “I will eat this pie, then I will go bother Christopher. Is there anything you want me to do today? I will force Christopher to show me if I’m unsure how to achieve it.” 

She shook her head, “No, I don’t have anything, but – do you think you could walk me home after work?” 

Harry smiled softly, “I’ll carry you home after.” 

                                                           .                         .                        .

In the summer, Y/N had never seen a dragon before – she had never even known them to truly exist – but now, in the winter, she has one sleepy, content, snuggled against her side in her bed, purring because she said that she likes it. When she rolls over to face him, he’s already got one eye peeking at her questioningly, “Is sleep not coming easily to you?” He inquired, mildly threatening, like he’d force the sand man himself to come bring Y/N sweet dreams. She never thought a love this sweet would find her. 

“No, I’m just – happy, is all,” she answers, “Just enjoying this cuddle with you.” 

Harry’s purrs increase, and the hand looped around her waist pulls her even closer. He rubs the tips of their shoes together sweetly before responding.

i.

“I think we should roleplay, but like. . .like I’m the car.” 

There had probably been a better way to describe what Y/N was trying to do that particular night. She probably should have waited until they were home from dinner, too, but she was like two glasses of wine in and feeling pretty brave, so she thought she should just come right out and say it. If she didn’t, then she never would muster the courage to. Not that Harry has ever made her feel weird or stupid for the things that she’s wanted to try. It’s just that, no matter how long they’re together, Y/N still gets all shy and nervous to ask Harry for what she wants, especially if it’s naught. 

Still, excitement tickled in her belly once she’d asked him. Harry looked really good tonight – he always looks good, but tonight in particular, she kind of wants to jump his bones. He spun his pasta around his fork when she’d said it, but then he paused, his eyes flickered up to her, “But you’re the car?” He repeated, and Y/N nodded. He set his fork back into the pasta and leaned back a bit, “Baby, I’ll need a little more information than that.” 

“Like, y’know – you’ll. . .like I’m the car and you’ll inspect me, y’know? All my. . .my pipes and all that,” her face feels hot, now that she actually has to explain it. This probably could have been a message or something that would have been easier for her to dive into the intricacies of what she met. She could have also sent him some material, like the things she’s read, or a couple of videos that she’s watched that go more in-depth. Maybe bringing it up while they were eating pasta wasn’t the best move, “But I guess that it’s like – not as fun for you, because you actually are a mechanic. I would be the only one roleplaying, so I understand if that’s not – if you aren’t into that, or if it’s something that you aren’t into, we wouldn’t have to, um, y’know. . .” 

Her eyes had been darting all over the place, but once they finally settled back on Harry, he was smiling softly. While Y/N still thinks it’s annoying how much he can get her to ramble from sheer nerves alone, Harry still finds it quite cute. At least that’s what he says. 

“I understand what you’re saying. We can do that,” he agreed, “I think that’d be fun.” 

Y/N smiled, relieved, but then her forehead crinkled when she asked, “Have you – have you done this with someone before?” Then her eyes narrowed, “Is that why you know what I’m saying?” 

Harry snorted, “No, I haven’t ever done something like this before,” he plucked his fork back up, still staring at her, “But I also don’t think it takes a genius to figure out you want me to inspect your naughty puss–” 

“Hey! We’re in public!” Y/N said, hypocritically for sure, but she nudged his ankle under the table, “You can’t just say stuff like that!” 

He was still grinning, “You’re the one who brought it up here, Baby,” he reminded her, then used his free hand to press a glass of water over to her side of the table. 

“Yeah, well, I did it with a little more decorum,” she took the water and pulled the straw between her lips, sucking it down. The ice clinked against the glass soundly when she pushed it away, “I would like to do it whenever, like – maybe even tonight.” 

Harry hummed, a glint in his eye when he brought the drink to his mouth, “Is that so?” He took a small sip, “Ah, last-minute inspections are kind of hard to fit in. You’ll have to call and see if there’s an appointment time that works for you.” 

To be playing the part already – of course he was. He was simultaneously the best and the worst. She wondered if he would actually make her call him. 

                                                               .                              .                        .

Y/N knows she was the one who asked for it, but in retrospect, she did not consider how shy she would feel. 

Harry had seen her cunt more than anyone else had – honestly, probably more than she herself has ever even seen it. It just had never been like this before; he’d never sat in front of her with latex gloves (“I’m not putting my real gloves on, Pup, that's gross), Y/N’s legs pulled up to her chest, her pussy on full display. She had been wet all day thinking about what was going to happen, so by the time she peeled her bottoms off for him, under the guise of a very clunky, “Uh, my — Sir, I was wondering if you took walk-ins? Something is very leaky, it keeps making a mess and I heard you could fix it.” (per Harry’s request, because he said if they’re roleplaying, then they’re going all in — Y/N realized quickly that he just liked how embarrassed she got saying it out loud).

With a nod, he’d pulled on the gloves and sat on a chair in front of the bed. She was pulled to the very edge of it, so it kind of felt like she was on an exam table. Her panties are still on when he hums thoughtfully, dragging his fingers between her lips, then pulling them apart like he could see anything through the fabric. “Hmm, I see,” he taps his thumb against the swell of her clit, “It’s very swollen down here. When’s the last time you had any routine maintenance done?” 

Her face is hot – this is so embarrassing, but also the matter-of-fact, professional way he’s speaking about her is making her even wetter. Y/N’s hips gently press forward, trying to feel more pressure from his fingers, but he strategically moves with her. The graze of his thumb is still light, as he loops absentminded circles over her. She wonders if he can feel it throb underneath his touch or if his skimming over it is enough for him to not be able to feel at all. 

“It’s been a while,” she blinks, thinking about how ridiculous this is, but also falling into her part seamlessly, “I just haven’t had the time to myself, and my partner. . .well, he’s too busy too.” 

He hums again, shaking his head slowly, similar to how he looked when he spoke to her about her actual car when they first met. A disappointed mechanic, about to scold you for not taking care of your car properly. 

“Pussies like this need to be routinely serviced, or they start having issues like this,” he dips his fingers into the waistband of her panties and peels them down, only momentarily breaking character when he murmurs a soft holy fuck to himself once he realizes just how wet she is. The strings of her arousal cling to the fabric, pulling away from her lips that she’d only recently had waxed soft. His eyes light up when he sees her, even though he’d just seen her in a similar position to this about 48 hours ago. He wastes no time touching her, once again splitting her folds so that he can get a better view of her puffy clit and her pink, weepy hole. The touch of the gloves feels different – weird, but not unwelcome as he whistles low. With one finger, he swirls it around her entrance before sinking in, gently, carefully, experimentally, like it was his first time. Y/N moans, clamping down around him. 

“Precisely what I expected,” he clicks his tongue, “Lucky for you, Doll, I have just the thing. Reduced pricing too.” 

He slips his finger out, ignoring her sad little whine when he outlines her hole again, staring at her like he was picking apart each minute detail. As if he’d be able to pick apart every stray hair, every cell, every glistening drop that he saw spread out of her pussy. Her clit is swollen enough that when he pulls back just a little, it peeks out from behind the hood. Harry licks over his mouth, leaning forward to give an open-mouthed kiss to it like he couldn’t help himself. Y/N twitches closer to him, and Harry indulges her for a moment, petting her with his tongue and suckling a couple of times before pulling away. A string of spit connects his tongue to her before he runs the tip over his lips again, clearing it away. 

“Sorry, Miss, that was unprofessional of me,” he withdrew again, patting around the bed blindly for what he was searching for, but he was not going to break his gaze from her, “This should help you – it’s one of my best tools.” 

The vibrator he brings out is one he likes to use on her when she’s bad, so it isn’t one of her favorites. Honestly, the sight of it has shivers running up her spine, the sleek silicone with a bulbous, curved head that has 10 different vibration modes. He uses this slick on his gloves to prevent touching her and rubs it over the head, and Y/N thinks there’s a joke about a self-lubricating engine there, but neither of them takes it. Harry is too focused as he presses the toy at her entrance, one hand holding her open while the other holds the toy steady.  

He tips it inside, just the tip at first, and he moves his thumb over to rub her clit when he meets some resistance. “Poor thing,” he sighs, mockingly almost, “Yeah, open up for the toy, it’s g’na fix this problem for you. This is my first line of defense against soaking cunts like this one.” Y/N giggles at that one, as he sinks it in a little deeper, the stimulation to her button helping her relax and coax it in further. Harry smiles, a twinkle still in his eye as he looks up at her face to check in. When he sees her smile in return, he dips it further and then laughs again when she moans, craning her head back. 

Once the head fits all the way in, her walls stretching around the widest part of it, the rest of the wand is quite narrow. It slips in the rest of the way, and Harry clicks the vibrations before her mind could really comprehend it. She cries out, hips trying to jerk off the bed, but as if he expected that, he keeps her still so she can’t move too much. He does coo at her, which is kind of off script, but she doesn’t mind – he always makes these pleased little sounds when she’s showing that she’s feeling good. The head presses right against her G-spot, and he fucks it in and out of her shallowly, not straying too far away from that bundle of nerves. 

Y/N’s fingers dig where she holds her thighs, the flesh dipping beneath her tight grip. She mewls, her mouth open – she hasn’t been able to close it for a little while, a little trickle of drool drips from the corner of her lips, and she rubs her cheek against her knee to clear it. Harry is focused on her pussy, inspecting every millimeter of it, even how she milks around the toy when it starts to feel really good. 

“Oh no,” he says suddenly, then clicks another button, and the vibrations go higher. Y/N’s toes curl, she thinks she can feel herself dripping down to her bum, “Looks like we’ve made the leak a bit worse, haven’t we? What should we do about that?” 

She can’t focus, really, her eyelids fluttering, “Eat me,” she keens, “Please, lick me up, I’ll cum –” 

“Ah, filthy thing, is that why you came to my shop?” He inquires, rubbing against her spot even harder, more insistently, “You heard that I’ll do a free cleaning with inspection, hm? You want me to lick this soaking pussy? Make it even wetter?” 

“Yes, yes, yes –” 

If her eyes were open, she knew Harry would have a shit-eating grin spread across his face, “That kind of defeats the purpose of the inspection, Honey, aren’t I supposed to be stopping the leak?” 

Y/N groans, irritated now because this was her idea, and of course he’d use the roleplay as a way to tease her. She reaches down, desperate, knocking into his fingers when she pulls her folds open herself, showing her clit off to him again, “Please,” she whines, “I’ll pay you double,” she promises, “I’ll come back every time I need something fixed.” 

Harry curses to himself again, and she can feel his breath wash over her pussy when he gets closer, “I do love a loyal customer,” he replies, before he fixes his lips around her clit again. He knows all the ways to work her up, swirling his tongue in little circles like he’s giving her a taste before he pulls it into his mouth. His tongue pets against her as he sucks hard, long pulls, working around the toy that’s still inside of her. Harry always talks about how much he loves how she tastes – how much better it is when she’s ovulating, even. 

He licks around the toy, feeling her twitch and pulsate at the entrance. If he could wiggle his tongue in there too, she thinks he would, and he gets pretty close when her position falters and one of her legs falls open. Spread apart, Harry pulls up to look at her before flickering his tongue over her clit again. All of this is making her go crazy, her breath coming out in pants, her orgasm building up faster than she can even warn him. But Harry always knew when she was about to cum. Like a sixth sense, Y/N swears the most minuscule twitch in her muscles lets him know that she’s almost there. It’s what makes him so good at edging her.

“You g’na cum for me, baby?” He asks, still fucking her with the toy, and with her legs more open, she can feel it even deeper. Y/N gets sort of rambly when she’s about to cum, all sorts of ‘please’s and ‘yes’s slip from her mouth in a rapid-fire pace. Begging him to keep going, begging him to slow down, begging him harder, faster, lick me, lick me, lick me please. 

Harry indulges her, and as soon as his mouth is back on her pudgy clit she’s cumming. Her thighs tremble with it, her whole body locking up, then undulating, feeling it zip through every vessel, sizzling through every muscle fiber, as she milks the toy like she would his cock. She leaks around it so much she’s sure the bed beneath her is wet, and Harry sucking her through it doesn’t help much either. He keeps going until she’s shoving his head away, tilting her hips away from his face, and trying to push away from the vibration. 

He spares her, at least for a moment, and clicks it off. 

They catch their breath quietly for a second, Harry not moving from where he was between her thighs, and Y/N not moving from how she was sprawled out in front of him. She’s about to open her mouth to thank him for doing this with her, even if it was a little silly, when Harry makes a small noise in his throat. A questioning sound. 

“Hm? What’s this?” He tilted his head as he eased the toy out of her. His eyes widen a little with how drenched the toy was, and he takes his finger to her sensitive walls, spreading her open so he could see inside of her a bit. Y/N gasps, legs going to close, but he keeps her pressed open, “Well, it seems like we haven’t quite patched up this leak yet. Don’t worry, I have plenty of tools that we can try.”

ii.

“Your heart races.” 

Y/N believes her heart does more than just race; it thunders, tramples, and trips over itself. She can feel it thudding through her ribcage, rattling her bones, echoing up her throat, and sitting on her tongue. Had she felt like this when she lost her virginity? She doesn’t think so – actually, she remembers being mildly annoyed that it was taking Oliver so long to get his kit off. There’d been some nerves just before he slipped inside of her, but those dissipated into an achy sort of pain quickly after.

Still, she’d never felt nerves like this before. How could she not, with a dragon staring at her the way Harry is right now? His eyes glow in something very inhuman. The purple of his irises was brighter than she’d ever seen them. He still wore those pants, garish as they are; they don’t hide the large bulge throbbing and leaking through the fabric. Harry’s demeanor before had been something softer, more curious, even a little sweetened, like he was appeasing an animal he felt endeared by. But that was when she’d humped him like an unruly dog. 

However, when she’d split her thighs for him as he’d asked, his manner changed.

It had been awkward, she could admit, as she climbed off his lap and plopped herself to his left, scooting herself up her mattress so she could at least lie against her pillows. She pulled the skirt of her dress up, then tucked her fingers into the waistband of her underclothing, wriggling them down her legs. She knew highborn women had very pretty bloomers, of all different colors and designs, but hers were quite boring in comparison. Before she could toss them to the side, Harry grabbed them from her hand, crumbled the fabric in his large palm, and brought it to his nose. He breathes in deeply, and the action is so naughty that Y/N audibly gasps, “Harry!” His eyes, that had closed as he breathed her in, flutter back open, “That’s – that’s filthy,” she tells him, “Improper, even! I’m a lady, you know?  

“Your scent is as alluring as it is tormenting to me,” he replies, “I do not care for what is improper and filthy. I will take these for my nest.” He breathes them in once more before setting them down on the bed beside them, crawling on his knees closer to her. He settles between her legs, pressing his palm against the back of her thigh. Harry gently guides her bent leg up, her knee lateral to her chest, as he spreads her open. The heat from his hand radiates through her skin, melting down through the muscles to her bones, “Just as you are a lady, I am a dragon. Let me see more of your honey pot.” 

Y/N feels embarrassed beneath his sharpened gaze, small under the unrelenting focus that he lays upon her. She doesn’t know if any man has stared so intensely between her legs, even as they were preparing to stuff inside of her. She’d just figured it was either not pretty enough to let their gazes linger, or that perhaps men didn’t care what it looked like at all. Yet, Harry will not remove his eyes from where they lie, with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. It looked hard and deep enough that it should draw blood, yet the skin only blanches where his sharpened canine threatens to pierce. His skin is flushed pink all over, and when he blows out a breath, a smoky plume distorts the air in front of his mouth. 

She swallows deeply, lowering her hands between her legs again. Harry follows them down to where she lets the pad of her fingers stroke down her slit carefully, slowly, down to the mess that’s outside of her hole. Y/N feels like a virgin again, in this way – like she has no clue what to do with her body or how it works. Her fingers slip through her arousal, coating the tips when she dips them just barely inside before stroking back up her swollen clit and decorating it in the mess. From her angle, she couldn’t see much beyond her mound and her button from where she’s sitting. The high-born women, just as they have their fancy cloth bloomers, can also afford the special services to remove the hair here, but Y/N could not. She wondered if Harry cared – wondered if he even knew. What did dragon women’s hair look like? Did they have any? Did they have holes like hers? The way he is looking at her almost suggests that he’d never seen something close to this, so she can only imagine that they must be different. 

Swirling her fingers makes her toes curl, and a soft sigh leaves her mouth. It feels nice, even when she sort of wants to cower beneath his intense stare, and part of that almost makes it even better. He’s staring so hard, so distracted by her that when she feels something wet drip against her thigh, she realizes he’s drooling and something hot coils around her belly, down her lower spine. 

That’s when Y/N notices, there are little scales that have emerged from his skin. Not all over, by any stretch, just one here, another there – they’re the same color as his dark green scales she’d seen in his human form. Y/N wants to touch them, just as she wants to touch the horns that he’d had before. Would those come back? She has to see them again, she thinks, or she’ll go crazy. 

Transfixed by them, Y/N’s hand leaves her pussy. Maybe it was crazy to reach toward him with the hand she’d been using to touch herself, but she isn’t really thinking. She only snaps out of it when Harry grabs her wrist, his grip tight around her wrist, and her eyes flutter wide, rushing to apologize, “I’m sorry, I should’ve – I should’ve wiped my hands off or asked, I just – your scales –” 

Harry doesn’t respond at first. Instead, he splits his lips and shows his tongue. He drags it over his fingers, tasting her again, sucking them into his mouth with not just a moan. It starts like a moan, low and whiny, but it drops into a growl – something animalistic, it trembles through her as he lowers so his face is mere centimeters from her pussy. “I have – I have yet to run my bath, Harry,” she warned him, stopping him with her hand – a palm pressed to his forehead, “I’ve been sweating all day, I’m unsure if you would want –” 

“It is not just about wants or desires. This runs far further than a mere craving,” he presses his other hand to her thigh, keeping her spread, “I must consume you. It’s a necessity – a need – to swallow you deep into my belly.” He leans closer, nuzzling his face against her slit and breathing in deeply, his nose pressed against the hairs that sit on her skin, “But you must tell me, if it isn’t to your liking. I’ve yet to do this.” 

Y/N doesn’t have much time to wrap her head around what he meant, because his tongue, wet and full, slides a path from bottom to top. Her folds part around the muscle, wet enough that the glide is as easy as licking ice that had begun to melt; she’s sure of it. The groan he makes against her vibrates through her whole being. Her mouth falls open, her eyelids flutter, stuck between wanting to close and wanting to watch him. Y/N had never witnessed someone look so pleased to be between her legs, but his eyes closed, and he hummed, similar to how he did when he ate her pie – like it was just as good and just as sweet. 

He’s sloppy and unfocused on only one part of her, instead swirling his tongue all over her. Y/N can’t tell what's wet from him and what’s wet from her, just that Harry doesn’t seem to care about the mess. When she feels more gush out of her, the delighted hum that leaves him would suggest he’d like it to be messier. The sharpened nails on his hands pierce into the flesh of her thighs as he deepens his licking, pressing so close that his nose is shoved against her, and she’s unsure of how he’s breathing. 

Y/N had never felt like this before. Harry is a quick learner; from the moment he can tell that she twitches and whines something high-pitched and needy every time he strokes her swollen button, he takes it into his mouth. He flickers his tongue against it before fixing his lips around it, pulling with these long, hard sucks and reading her reaction to it. Harry must like it when she wriggles, if her hips move, when she scrambles to grab at the bare mattress beneath her, and even his head. When her fingers stroke where his horns had been prior, Harry moans into her and intensifies the movements of his mouth. 

When she cums, it’s with a cry of warning. Y/N is sure she didn’t even need to warn him, though, from the way her sounds started getting even louder, clipping off as it built up, the pressure in her belly reaching heights she’d never gotten to with a human man. She’d been eaten before, like this, but never so animalistically. Never like they truly wanted to devour her whole, suck her essence from her cunt, embed the taste of her on each little groove and bud of their tongue. It’s too much in the best way, and when she looks down at him again, she sees how his purple eyes glow, and the scrape of these little patches of scales against her sensitive inner thighs shoves her right over the edge. 

The orgasm is intense – it rattles through her like all of her bones are vibrating with it. It tingles and buzzes through her whole body, and makes her feel a little crazy, rutting her hips into his face. He doesn’t hold her down – instead, he takes what feels like a handful of her bum and presses her even closer to him, if that’s possible. Like he was trying to melt and merge into her body, he seems keen on staying there too, until Y/N is actively trying to buck away from him, her palm pressed against his forehead to shove.

Once he finally detaches from her, he does so with a gasp, and Y/N makes a similar sound. Only hers was due to the state of him – the strings of arousal and spit that cling between his lips and tongue to her folds, and what looks like steam leaves his mouth with every pant that leaves him. Y/N’s brain is still trying to catch up with the fact that he isn’t exactly human, as she slides her hand from his forehead to his hair, carding her fingers through the strands carefully. A purr rumbles through his body almost instantly when her nails graze his scalp, and the sound intensifies as she gets closer to the area where his horns once resided. She didn’t know he could do that. 

Harry nuzzles against her palm, “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, “Why do you taste so sweet?” 

She’s blinking at him, shaking her head, shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t know,” she replied, “Nobody has ever – has ever said that before.” 

The purr shifts into something like a growl when he darts his tongue out to lick through her folds once more, leaving another sticky string of her cum and spit to bow and snap between them. “Nobody will touch you anymore,” he says, it like it’s a fact, “They will not get the chance to say it. I won’t allow it.” 

The possessiveness should likely turn her off, but it only makes the heat coil further in her belly. She nods in agreement before using her foot to pet down his side. Her toes catch at the waistband of his trousers, but she makes no move to tug them down. “You,” she cleared her throat, tipping her head to the side, “Don’t you want – don’t you want to finish too? Aren’t you aching?” 

He purrs again, pressing himself up from the mattress after giving her one last kiss to the inside of her thigh, “Yes,” he whines, and Y/N is greeted with the view of his bulge again, only this time he’s tucked a thumb into the elastic band around his hips. He pulls it down; Y/N watches as his prick lowers at first with the drag of the fabric, only the base of the shaft revealed as he unceremoniously tugs them off. His prick bounces out, but it’s so heavy that it doesn’t instantly snap against his stomach. He’s big – Y/N knew he would be, but there’s something about seeing it in the flesh that is 10x more intense than anything she’s experienced. “I ache, so deeply,” he twists his hand around the shaft, pulling up. He’s already leaking so much, dripping from the wet, messy tip. “The urge to breed is intense. It’s very strong.” 

“To – to breed?” Y/N repeats, her thighs still fallen open, her eyes wide as saucers. She’d never seen someone so big before – not even in the smutty drawings that artists sell in the back of their stores. Y/N almost wants to measure it – wants to feel it in her hand, the weight of it. Wants to hold it to her forearm and see how similar it is. Did dragons really need pricks this big? What purpose did it serve? Or was it due to them being large in general? Could dragon women take them easily? Could dragon men? Could anyone at all? She simply couldn’t imagine it. 

Harry lets his cock rest against her belly, his balls nestled close, on top of her swollen, sensitive button that he’d shown such attention with his tongue. The tip sits at her belly button, smearing precum against her skin, oozing it down into the little pocket. There’s a portion at the base that is more swollen than the rest, and Y/N has no clue what it is or its purpose. He’s so warm – the temperature is hot, sticky, and Y/N’s fingers twitch at her sides until she finally just listens to them. Carefully, cautiously, she extends her fingers out toward him and lets her fingers dance along the flesh. Harry sucks in a breath, and another purr rattles through him. His scales glint and glimmer in the light of her lamps, while the wet precum covering his tip glistens. Everything about him is so mythical, she thinks, even his arousal sort of sparkles.

He rocks his hips, fucking into the makeshift hole her hand makes while he’s still pressed against her belly, “Yes,” he says again, and it burns hot inside of her, “To breed. I want to fill you with my seed until it’s dripping from you. So much of it that your belly  swells from me.” Despite how dominant his words are, there’s an underlying whine that laces through his tone, “Lock you in with my knot. Make sure it takes.” He moans again, his cock twitching like the thought alone could make him cum, “You’re too–you’re little cunt is too small to take me yet. I must stretch you.” He shakes his head, “It must not happen tonight.” 

Despite his size, and despite Y/N knowing that it was for the best, she didn’t take him tonight, in this state, with little preparation (she would need plenty of lubricant that she does not have), she still pouts. Her hole clenched around nothing, like it only now realizes how empty she feels. It’s horrible, having it right in front of her and not getting it – he’s right there. Maybe it was pheromones he’s pushing out, or perhaps it was just Y/N’s intense desire and attraction to him, or even her in a post-orgasmic and still horny state – but she feels like she could cry, a little. Tears bead up her waterline. 

Harry notices it – she doesn’t know if he can smell the salt of her tears or if he can just see how they water (maybe both), but he drags his hand across the mattress before cradling her cheek in his palm. Y/N is unsure why she feels this way, and she thinks it’s some carnal, innate reaction – something more animal than human. Still, Harry leans down, still purring, nudging his nose against hers, “Sweet little human,” he murmurs, almost like she’s speaking to himself, “Your body responds so well to mine, doesn’t it? It wants to be full.” 

“Yes,” she frowns, and Harry laughs, warm, dragging his tongue across her jaw, letting his canine drag against the skin, “I can handle it.” 

“I’m sure you could,” he shudders when she loops her legs around his hips, curling them tight around his body, and the pace he’d been fucking into her hand falters, “But not tonight. I must. . .I must be careful with you.” 

Y/N huffs, a petulant sound, and Harry moves to hover over her face again. The gaze he gives her is unlike any he’d ever given her before; full of hunger and desire, his eyes lidded and his mouth just slightly agape. He would cum soon, she could feel him throbbing against her palm and belly. The closer he got, the more he’d fuck into the little pocket her hand created for him, the more she felt the swelling at his base. Curiosity finally sways her – she squirms her other hand in between their bodies and lets her fingers dance along the swollen bit. It’s unlike anything she’s ever witnessed before, so unlike anything that she’d ever felt. Something twists up inside of her when Harry’s moan gets more high-pitched, louder, and his hips twitch in an uneven rhythm against her. 

He growls, his free hand finds her hip, and he digs his nails in deeper than she thinks he intended to. Y/N is too busy marveling over his reaction to really react to the pain, though she does flinch a little, “You are filthy. Such a lewd being in a sweet body – you’re a conniving creature.” 

“What is this?” She finally inquires, squeezing it again, “Is it sensitive?” 

“Very,” he breathes out, his head bowing between his shoulders, his hips even quicker, “S’my knot, little human, to keep me locked inside of this pretty body. Make sure none of my spend spills from you – keep it nice and safe inside.” 

Y/N’s eyes must glitter when she looks into his. She’s overwhelmed, sure, but to see Harry in such a state is mesmerizing. The same man (dragon) who was throwing her out of the forest every time she entered it, now rutting over her, imagining being locked inside of her, thinking about breeding her. Right now, he wanted her so badly that it almost made him look silly. And she could admit that, right then, she wanted him so badly she surely looked silly.

 But he seemed resolute in not fucking her tonight, so she made do with what she could. And, at the very least, she wanted to see him cum. 

“I want to feel it,” she encourages him, keeping one hand on his ‘knot’ and massaging it gently, and listening to his mewling, “Inside of me, pressing against my – against my walls. I want to feel it tug against me every time you pull it out,” and yeah, sure, at first the words were meant only to rile him up, but Y/N was working herself up again, “Want to feel how it tugs when you can’t remove yourself from me. Want to feel it stretch me open, and –” 

“Fuck,” he grumbles low, before his cock throbs, hot and heavy against her belly. The first spurt of cum shoots out high enough to hit her chin and tear a gasp from her mouth. It’s warm and sticky, dripping down her throat as more shoots out, some getting her chest, and a whole lot of it on her belly. At least a fountain of it, really, as it spills over her fingers, coating her knuckles, seeping between her fingers. There’s so much of it, she honestly has no idea how any of it would have fit inside of her. Just knows that there seems there’s no end to it, until a full 30 seconds go by and he’s finally just sputtering and spitting the rest from his slit. 

Y/N is a mess, covered in sweat, and sort of horny again. She desperately needs a bath, and she’s kind of starving, but she’s so tired that the thought of getting up seems horrible. And Y/N doesn’t know if Harry would even let her get up, with how he moves over her, heavy stretched across her, but she undoubtedly feels safe. Men, at least in her experience, usually roll over and go take care of themselves afterward – they go have a wee, clean up, a little bit of this, and a little of that. Y/N is left to clean herself up, deal with the weird, sad welt that kind of sits in her chest, wondering how she’s going to get them out of her cottage without seeming rude. 

With Harry, it is much different. There’s something very primal about how he stays on top of her, like he is protecting her vulnerable body from the outside world. He’s warm, but it isn’t suffocating. It’s comforting, like when she pulls her winter bedding from storage, the feathers dense inside to help her maintain heat. Especially since she doesn’t have someone to take turns stoking the fire with her at night, but Harry’s body is like a walking fire in itself. Warm either from his mating cycle, or just in general – he never really let her get close enough to see if he was this warm regularly. 

He purrs too, still, like a pleased cat. And she feels the wet drag of his tongue against her neck, right over her thrumming pulse. Things that should probably put her off, because she isn’t an animal – not a cat, not a dog, not a dragon – but it doesn’t feel off-putting. She feels like she could fall asleep right now, actually, warm and content, safer than she thinks she’s ever felt. 

Eventually, though, the sticky, cooling sensation of his cum starts to be a little much. Y/N wriggles beneath him, but his purrs grow a little louder as if he’s trying to settle her, “Harry,” she murmurs, pressing her hand against his lower belly, “I’m sticky.” 

“You’re perfect.” He replied easily, his nose nuzzling into the junction of her neck and shoulder. 

Y/N is startled to laugh, pressing into the soft of his belly with her index and middle fingers, even her thumbs, “Aish, that’s sweet, but –” she wiggles again, “It’s a bit uncomfortable, with – with all of that. You came a lot.” 

Harry huffs, nestles one more time into her throat, and then presses himself up. He’s pouting – a real-life pout! From this previously grumpy, mean dragon. His cheeks are pink where they’re usually pale, his eyes are glowing less now than they had been, and even the few scattered scales have disappeared from his skin. Y/N squeezes his sides, “It is only partially my fault,” he tells her, “You smell too good and taste too delectable for me to have cum a normal amount. I could not help it.” 

Still, he sat up – his cock had softened, for the most part, but was still a massive weight between his legs. And he doesn’t seem keen on covering back up, as he stands up on the side of her bed, shucking his bottoms the rest of the way off and stepping out of them. Y/N’s eyes widen as he disappears from her room, and she hears the front door open and then close. She scrambles up to sit, thinking that even though her neighbors aren’t very close, and winter has dyed the sky black at early hours, someone still may see a naked man walking out of her cottage. Several men have been arrested for public indecency at the tavern in town, so Y/N hardly thinks anyone would let this slide, no matter how big and imposing Harry seems. 

Y/N is too messy to get up and follow him outside to call him in. But she thinks perhaps that would call too much attention to them as well. She just sits, waits, and Harry eventually returns with two buckets of water that steam as if he’d just boiled them. Her towels are slung around his neck, and when he gets closer, she can see washing cloths in the water. He drops them beside her fire, on the rug, then comes back to her and slips his arms beneath her body. Y/N squeals when he lifts her – nobody has lifted her in a very long time, apart from when he’s manipulating the air to do so. 

But she hadn’t been picked up like this, held close to someone’s body, her cheek against his shoulder, and his arms around her body. Y/N kind of feels like a princess – saved by a knight, like in those novels her cousins would bring for her to read after they’d finished them. Only, instead of the knight, Y/N is being carted around by the very thing the knight was probably trying to save her from – a big, man-eating, fire-breathing dragon that had stolen her away and locked her in a tower. She thinks she feels much safer in his arms rather than some random knight, though. 

Carefully, he sits her in front of the fire, on her rug. It was an older rug, but she kept up with it, so it still looked relatively new. The fibers were still soft and cushiony, so it wasn’t the worst place to be. Harry sits back down on his knees beside her, tugging at her dress – Y/N gasps when he eventually gets it above her head, tossing it off to the side, leaving Y/N stark naked. She goes to cover her breasts, even though he’d seen much more intimate parts of her; this was much different – now, not in her horny haze, to just be bare in front of him was sort of embarrassing. But Harry seemed quite unbothered by her sudden nudity. This is probably what he is used to, now that she thinks about it – she wonders if Christopher was the one to convince him to wear clothes. 

He grabs the washcloth, dips it further in the water, and squeezes the excess out of the cloth before pressing it against her stomach. Y/N jumps from the sudden wetness, despite how warm it was, and how warm it was beside the fire. Harry pauses, his eyes flicker up to her like he’s searching for any signs of discomfort. Harry hums low, clicks his tongue, then continues to smooth the cloth over her carefully. It was different – odd – but not in a bad way, necessarily. Nobody had ever done this for her, at least apart from the physician in her old village, when Y/N had been struck with a fever, and she wanted to cool Y/N down with a bath. 

This isn’t as clinical as that was, but it also wasn’t nearly as sexual as it might have been with someone else, either. Y/N had heard stories about couples bathing together, bathing each other, and that turning into something flirty and filthy. This was different, though – caring differently, intimate, in a way she’d never been with another person. How could she describe it? It was the likeness of a red fox, maybe – she’d read that the males dote on the females. Perhaps this was another version of that. But Y/N isn’t sure – she would be interested in learning the ratio of Harry’s animalistic to his human characteristics, and what determines that. If he had been domesticated as time went on, or if he’d been born into it. 

Once Harry gets between her legs, he parts them carefully and runs the cloth back to front. Had he done this before? Y/N stares at him curiously as he works diligently, and he erupts into small cooing sounds when she flinches from the oversensitivity. She remembers, then, that Harry had told her now would be the time to ask her questions because his body seems intent on satisfying her through the courting process. He’d be more inclined to answer without giving her the run around. And instead of silently watching him, she thinks it might be a good idea to fill the air, especially the more her face feels hot at him cleaning her. 

“Um, Harry?” He hums to let her know he was listening, “Are there others like you? Like, other dragons around here?” 

Harry tosses the wet rag over to the floor before grabbing a new one, “Yes, but not very close,” he replies easily – like he wasn’t just confirming the existence of other real dragons, “Each of us chooses a forest to preside over, and boundaries are drawn on those that are shared. I am the only one this close to humans, though. Well. . .besides two more, but even then, I’m closer.” 

Y/N tilts her head, “But you dislike humans so intensely,” she feels like she’s reminding him, because right now it doesn’t seem like he dislikes humans – right now, at least, it seems like he may be fond of one human, who he’s wiping clean, “Why would you choose to live so closely to them? Or, at least close enough that I was able to find you.” She shivers when he squeezes the cloth over her, water cascading down her knee, toward her ankles. 

“Because I lost a bet,” he answered again, his eyes flickering up to her – their gazes lock for a second, and his eyes do a weird little glow, like a lightning bug in summer, “There is magic that keeps my boundary away from humans, so I do not have them stumbling upon me all of the time. That would get annoying,” he flicked her ankle playfully, “The forest reorganizes to keep humans away. Only I can let them in.” 

Her brows dipped, “But that – when I found you in the trap? Shouldn’t the forest just have moved around then?” 

He cleared his throat, “I thought that you may be like Christopher, that's all. I can sense the intentions of those who enter the forest; whether they are there to hunt, to gather – things like that. You didn’t smell of him, but you smelled. . .good. Calm and safe. Then you found me, and were still relatively calm – your intention did not change when you noticed me, or at least, it did not shift to ‘hunt’, so I did not kill you. Then you helped me out.” 

“But all of the times after that? You always seemed like you hated me in there?” 

Harry sighs, “This is something I, too, wish to know.” His confusion seems clear, like he’d spent days and nights trying to figure this out himself. It would explain why he seemed somewhere between irate and curious every time she showed up, especially if he was intent on throwing her out. “You would appear of your own merit – not even Christopher can do that. I cannot give you an answer. I apologize.”

“That’s okay,” her heart squeezes in her chest – he seems utterly distressed that he cannot answer this question for her, and she wonders if that is a part of his heat too. As if not being able to answer this question made him a less suitable mate. There arises another question, Y/N would like to know – does Harry intend to actually mate her? Right now, he pursues her, but Christopher had even said he could not attest to how Harry may act once the heat is over. When his body isn’t pressing for him to mate. Even Harry had mentioned that all that is left to do is wait for it to pass, but he must have said this outside of a haze in his heat. 

Because right now, how delicately he treats her, it almost seems like he’s intent on keeping her. That makes her shiver for a different reason, and she jumps when a warm towel is thrown over her body. “You are cold,” he states, clicking his tongue, “Stay here while I gather your bedclothes.” 

“Ah, wait!” She grabs his wrist before he can leave, “You should really put on bottoms again! Going in and out of my house like this is quite. . .um, obscene.” 

Harry blinks at her for a while, silence stretching on long enough that it is almost uncomfortable, before he places his hand on top of hers and squeezes, “Do you worry that someone else will notice me? That they will think I’m courting them?” He smiles, like he likes that thought, and doesn’t wait for her to reply. Instead, he takes the other towel and loops it around his waist, covering his privates, “You will not have to worry. Apart from you and Christopher, all other humans I cannot stand. There is no need to get jealous.”

Y/N almost scoffs, wanting to tell him that it wasn’t necessarily jealousy; she just didn’t want anyone calling the sheriff on the man with the huge cock walking around her cottage! However, she doesn’t think that this would register with Harry at all. He’d probably just say he’d burn them alive if they tried to arrest her, and Y/N didn’t want to deal with that either. She lets him go, quietly and patiently waits for him to return with his arms full of her bundled sheets and blankets. 

When Y/N begins to stand, he clicks his tongue, “Sit,” he orders, and Y/N drops back onto her bum. “I’m going to prepare the bed for you.”

“But, do you know how to –” 

“Continue to ask me your questions.” 

Y/N huffs, stretches her legs out in front of her, “Can I know why you dislike humans so much? Is it a sensitive topic?” 

Harry shook his head, “Our sensitivities are different. I dislike humans because a group of them killed someone dear to me,” Y/N gasped, but Harry carefully pulls the sheets around the mattress, in a practiced way, where Y/N is quite shocked that he knows what to do. Did he have a bed? Wait, no, she can’t focus on that because – “I would’ve been betrothed to her had she made it past our 17th rotation, but they hunted her, shot her from the sky, and started a war. This preceded years of bloodshed and turmoil until the treaties were signed. Things became calmer.” 

“I–I see,” she pulled the towel tighter around her body, “I’m sorry, Harry, that is horrible.” 

He sighed, “There’s nothing to do about it now,” and he fanned the sheet out perfectly on the first try, “Don’t you learn about this in your teachings? Killing a princess typically does not go over well in history.” 

“She was a princess?” Y/N repeated, “Wait, so are you a –” 

“Prince? Yes.” 

“Whoa,” she knuckles at her eyes, “I – I come from a small village a ways from here. I heard stories, but I thought they were lore and tales to scare me from the forest.” He fluffs her pillows and intricately places them along her headboard. “Is that why you are always dressed so lavishly with your jewels? I thought that might just be a dragon thing – hoarding riches and whatnot.”

He shrugs, “The others may also own jewels, but I have more.” Harry peels the corner of her bed down, “Have you eaten yet today?” 

“Um, no, I was going to eat after my – my laundry, but then – well, you came.” 

Harry disappears into her kitchen, and Y/N listens to him move around. She has plenty more questions to ask, but guilt sits heavily in her chest. All this time, Harry must not have wanted to see her because humans remind him of something so horrible, yet she pushed and pushed and pushed. It would be better if he were the one allowing her into the forest, but he couldn’t even stop her if he wanted to, since she somehow kept surpassing whatever boundary was set up to keep her out.  And she knew she could not be blamed for the crimes of others, but she supposes if she’d known, she would have been more. . .tender, in her approach. Maybe less forward and pushy? She isn’t sure. There was a woman in her old village who was deathly afraid of wolves after one had killed one of her friends when she was younger, so much so that the howl of them on a full moon sent her into a fit. One riddled with shivers and shaking, tremendous pain, screaming in some cases – what if this is how Harry felt when he saw humans? Before his heat? 

But wouldn’t it have been easier to spot? What about the time he fed her the apple? Or when he said he’d allow her one question? He didn’t seem afraid when she appeared, just mildly annoyed. Still, guilt tears through her intensely. What if – 

“What plagues your mind?” Harry asks, holding a bowl and a spoon, filled with her roast. It bubbles and steams as if he’d just warmed it on the fire, “I could sense your turmoil in the other room.” 

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, frowning, shoulders sagging, looking down at the lines in her palms, “I’m so sorry, when you asked me to leave you be, I should’ve listened, but I–I wasn’t, and that probably caused you great stress, no? Even if you’d entertain me once in a while, it was–it was probably hard for you? Considering everything. I wasn’t thinking and –” 

Harry cuts her off, shoving a spoonful of her roast into her mouth. Her words are swallowed up by roasted carrots and potatoes in broth. “Enough,” Y/N finally drags her gaze from her hands up to his face, where he looks to her sternly, “How were you to know? It is in a human’s nature to be curious about what they do not know or understand.” He defends her from herself, and if you had told her but a month ago that she’d be in this situation with the dragon, she’d have laughed out loud. Harry feeds her again, another spoonful, “I won’t accept apologies on the matter. I cannot fault you for another’s sin, but it is something that I do most readily. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.” He sits down on his knees in front of her, resting the spoon in the bowl so that he can use his free hand to cradle her face, “I am untrusting, and surly. My attitude is poor, and it makes me lash out at others. If it is of any solace, I treat fellow dragons similarly. I am unkind.” 

She frowns, “I don’t think you are unkind,” she disagrees, reaching for his hand and pressing it closer to her face, feeling the warmth of his palm seep into her skin, “You would not take care of me so sweetly if you were unkind. Even if this treatment is due to your heat, then part of you must be nice. I think you just are. . .cautious. And a bit grumpy.” 

Harry’s smile is faint, soft, and there’s an unreadable expression in his gaze, but it makes her feel warm all over, in a different sense. He caresses her cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

“Humans are quite forgiving,” he murmurs, before withdrawing his hand, “Let’s finish eating.” 

                                                              .                          .                        .

Y/N offered for Harry to spend the night with her.

She’s unsure of how long it will last, and when she inquires, the most Harry will explain is that it is “a few moons.” Still, when Harry had appeared like he might leave the first night he had come to her, there was a longing pull in her chest that begged for him not to. To go from being doted on so carefully and intensely to the silent crackling of her fire would have been sad, she thinks. So she offered him the night to stay with her, and Harry had agreed instantly, as if he’d only been waiting for her to. 

“Your cave is quite small for two people, but it is cozy,” he told her, “It will make do for now. When I invite you to my cave, it will be very grand. It is apart of my courting.” 

He had made her bed quite lovely, and somehow, with whatever dragon magic he was using to keep things warm, they were quite toasty when he held the sheet up for her to crawl beneath it. Harry was quick to follow and immediately pulled her against his body as he had in the wisteria flowers. From this position, Y/N could feel where he was about half-hard against her thigh, despite her back being to his chest, but when she gasped and tried to look down, he held her head, directing it back up. “Not now,” he told her, “Rest. I will wake you if it becomes too much to bear.” 

Harry doesn’t wake her, but Y/N doesn’t even know if she would have if he’d tried. She slept hard that night, like a lump of rocks, gone from the world. When she woke, it was hours and hours later, the sun tickling past the tree line and her neighbor’s rooster crowing soundly. Harry was still tucked against her side, his chest rising and falling with each breath, and the sound of his heart warm against her ear. She would have thought he was asleep, but when she tried to move, his arm tightened around her. 

“Do not move.” 

Y/N huffed, something close to a laugh, “I need to get ready for the day.” 

“You need to rest,” he ordered instead, “There is nothing to do today. You aren’t required to do your duties until two days from tomorrow, correct?” 

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to look at him, “How do you know that?” 

“Humans do things in patterns that are easy to follow if you watch enough.” 

“Have you been stalking me?” 

“I have been watching you.” He finally peered one eye open, “How else was I supposed to discover your true intentions toward me? I thought you a witch for a while.” 

Harry does keep her in bed for longer than she usually would. Though he does quite a lot of convincing with his tongue and the thickness of his fingers between her thighs, he gives orgasms that make her all loose-limbed and sleepy, so staying in bed until the sun was high seemed like a fine idea. When she did finally rise, Harry was stoking a fire he already had burning, and eggs were already sizzling in a pan above it. Where had he learned to cook? Was it Christopher? Or was this something that all dragons knew of?  

They do have a full day together. Harry helped her gather firewood, collect water from the well behind her cottage, tend to her winter garden, and her pickled vegetables. He follows directions well when she gives them to him, all while tending to the fire throughout the day. When Y/N settled around lunch time, they ate some more of her roast, and then she started working on a dress she promised to make for the little girl a few houses down from her. She did this often, especially when she was able to make dye from the pretty colors she could find in the forest. They weren’t a wealthy family, and most of their outfits were hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs, worn from time, color faded. And Y/N had found such pretty red flowers one of the times she had been searching for Harry. So she crushed them, made them into a dye, and had already gone about staining the wool for the winter dress. 

While she carefully threaded her sewing machine, Harry busied himself with her books. Particularly, the ones about dragons, he cracked open and tore to shreds, telling her what was wrong and what they were stretching the truth about. He had asked her for a pen so he could fix it, but Y/N had to tell him they were rented books, and she’d get in trouble if there was any damage. Only twice does he stop her so that he can bury his face between her thighs through the waves of his heat, but he never requests her help him through it. He makes use of his hand, moans and purrs against her folds, then goes back to what he’d been doing before. 

Every so often, he’d tell her how well she was doing with her creating of the garment, “I am impressed,” he told her, earnestly, “You possess many good skills and traits. It is confusing how you’ve yet been married off – isn’t that what you lot do?” 

“My parents sent me here to marry into a wealthy family,” she told him, “But nobody has caught my eye.” 

He hummed, low, close to a growl but not quite. When Y/N turned to look at him, stretching out her upper back that had been hunched forward, working diligently, “Well, that makes sense,” he stated when she looked at him, turning back toward the books, but his ears were even redder than the fabric she was working with, “How could any of these measly human men catch your eye?” 

Y/N snorted, unsure of what he had to be embarrassed about, but he turned back to her work. 

Again, that night, Harry seemed like he might leave, and that same, yearning pull tugged at Y/N’s chest. She offered again, “You can – it is quite late. You can stay the night if you’d like to.” 

Harry grinned at her once more, “You love my company,” he doesn’t say it like a question, he says it like it’s fact, “Life is much easier with a dragon involved, isn't it?” 

That night, Harry pulls Y/N on top of his body. His cock is heavy and hard in the shorts she’d convinced him to wear (they were a pair she’d made for Niall, intending to give him in the summer, but she never got around to it – Harry is bigger than Niall, and thicker, so they stretch tight around all of him – he looks quite lewd walking around in them). The fabric stretches around the bulge, and Y/N felt goosebumps pimple up her skin. Harry had fit her carefully on top of him, so that her folds rested right against his cock, before he squeezed her hips. 

“Rut against me,” he ordered, “It will feel good for both of us.” 

So Y/N does, slowly rolling her hips in a wave at first. This is the closest he’d let her get to feel him since last night, but she’d cum several times in that period. Which meant even this left her feeling twitchy and sensitive, enough that she couldn’t come up with any true rhythm, with her hips stuttering and her heart hammering. He squeezes her sides, slipping his hand to her bum and grabbing a fistful, urging her forward, trying to help guide her pace. Y/N bites through her bottom lip, trying to be quiet and to focus, but he huffs, plucking her lip from between her teeth, “I want to hear your noises,” he tells her, sliding his hand to her throat, and he squeezes the sides gently – Y/N doesn’t know why it makes her hips move faster, or why it jolts a broken moan from her mouth. Nobody had ever put their hand around her throat before – in those filthy drawings she’s seen, Y/N had never even understood why it was something that would feel good. 

But it does, and she thinks she can feel her throat vibrating against his palm, and his cock twitches against her. Her knees tighten around his hips, and she moans again, even louder this time, slightly more debauced, “What a lewd little body,” he hums, grinning, his gaze lidded as he watches her. He sits up, so he’s closer to her, and Y/N is once again reminded that their lips had never pressed against each other. She wants it, though – more than she would care to admit. Her mouth hangs open, and she wants his tongue to slither between her lips and lick her insides. He’s good with it, she knows, and Y/N’s always been partial to kissing. It’d probably feel good, especially like this, with how she grinds against him, and how lightheaded she feels with his hand around her throat. 

When he releases it, she gasps wetly, scrambling for something to grab onto. He wears nothing, so her fingers just dig into his chest. She leans forward, so she doesn’t do something stupid like kiss him unprovoked, and mouths at his shoulder. Then the head of his cock catches against the swell of her clit on a particular hard grind, and she digs her teeth into the muscle there when she cums. Harry groans that kind of sounds like a growl, and Y/N would have been worried that she pissed him off if not for the way he uses both hands to hold her against his cock, feeling it throb and jump, before the wet mess spreads between them. 

Y/N detached from him after her orgasm, visualizing the dark red mark where her teeth had dug in. She regards it sheepishly, especially when he takes a look at it, but he only chuckles warmly, “Why look at that,” he teased, though where his thumbs lie at her sides, he strokes and caresses, “Is this your attempt to mark me?” 

“Sorry,” she can’t look at it, “I – uh – got carried away, I think. We should probably disinfect that.” 

Harry placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her into him again. Her head tucks into his throat, and he rubs up and down her back, once again, letting himself purr. 

“You are quite silly,” he murmurs, “Rest. I will wake you for your baker's work.” 

                                                                  .                         .                          .

Going out into town proved to be a little easier than Y/N had imagined with Harry involved. 

Y/N had thought that maybe Harry would stay at her cottage while she worked, or perhaps he might make the trek back to his cave finally, without having her sort of ask him to stay the night. They had spent a lot of time there together, day in and day out, the last couple of days. He must feel comfortable enough now to stay even a limited amount of time there by himself. Instead, Harry seems to be glowing, pulling on clothes that Y/N had initially made to send back to her cousin – Harry found them in his pursuit through her closet and drawers, and put them on that morning. When Y/N inquired why, he looked at her like she was silly. 

“You whinge about me walking outside nude, so I imagine you want me in clothes at your place of work? Isn’t this important to you?” 

That’s how she found out he was coming with her and. . .well, she was comforted by the thought. Knowing that she’d know where he was brought something warm to her chest, soothing, like knowing your room would be warm when you’re walking home in the cold, icy rain. She thinks if she were working all day, wondering where Harry was, what he was doing, or if he’d be there when she returned, she’d be stressed. If he’s just tailing along with her - well, she wouldn’t mind. 

So he comes into the bakery with her, where Niall is already setting up the display case, and his head turns toward the jingling bells as she opens the door, “Oh, thank god you’re here. We need to start the bread pudding, but I always fuck it up like three steps in, so – oh? Who is this?” 

Harry had stepped in behind her, seeming even bigger somehow, in the bakery. His eyes light up as he looks at the displays, purple as they could be, “This is the dragon,” she told him, “He is spending time with us today.” 

Niall blinked at Y/N, then blinked at Harry, then at the muffin in his hand, then back at Y/N, “Excuse me?” He motioned toward him, “Did you convince this guy to play pretend to fuck with me or –” 

“I do not play pretend, I’m no child,” Harry cuts in, then, as his proof – beyond the bright purple eyes – he purses his lips and a thin, slivered, flame emerges from his mouth. It’s something Y/N hasn’t even been able to see yet, so her eyes widen too, but Niall’s are comically wide. He stumbles back a little, dropping the muffin from his hand as he holds his chest, “Now, show me your pies.” 

He points towards the pies, and Harry smiles, stepping around the tables and leaning toward the glass casing. Niall’s eyes dart from Harry to Y/N, who walks through the swinging half door so that she’s on the same side with him. His mouth is hung open, and she can practically hear his heart thudding against his sternum. 

“What the fuck?” He asks, and Y/N shrugs. 

“I told you,” she slid her coat off her shoulders, “I told you many times, you never listened.” 

“Because I thought you’d truly lost it!” 

“What is your name?” Harry inquired suddenly, standing in front of Niall across from the display stand. 

Niall was startled at being spoken to again, “Um, I – it’s Niall, Sir.”

Sir – Y/N almost giggles. Niall has never referred to anyone as ‘sir’ before, so he must truly be scared.  

“Watch your tongue when you speak to her.” He tells him, then points to the case, “Now what is a meat pie? Give me a slice.” 

Harry stayed with them all day. Not many people mention him, but Y/N can tell that they are looking – he is quite the imposing presence, and he’d brought one of the dragon books with him, only he’d demanded that morning that she get him a notepad and pen. He makes note of every wrong thing and tells Y/N that she needs to take these revisions to the library so that they can fix them. So he doesn’t look up at them much, unless they are interacting with Y/N, though she is mostly in the back baking. However, when Niall has to take the garbage again, and a customer walks in, Harry is suddenly very focused on their interaction from where he sits. She can feel his glare cutting through the air, and she looks a couple of times, locks eyes, then goes back to helping the customer. 

But as soon as the woman left the store, Harry settled back into his seat and looked back at his book. 

Other than that, he is quite calm. 

“Is it Bring Your Pet Dragon to work day?” Christopher enters a little past lunch, when Y/N had given Harry a slice of Shepherd’s pie and a strawberry cake slice. Harry spits another little curl of fire toward him that he narrowly avoids with a laugh, “I figured I’d find you here.” He has a bag in his hand, heading straight toward Y/N with it open, “And I thought maybe your life would be easier if you had more clothes to put him in. He prefers his loincloths, but those aren’t very. . public-friendly.” 

Niall, who was rolling out the crust for another pie (because Harry had eaten through quite a few at this point), paused and stared, “Okay, what the hell was everyone in on this?” 

Christopher stays for a little while and sits across from Harry, who is very animatedly going through all of the pitfalls in the human’s dragon research. They share bread pudding, though Harry growls a couple of times that they both reach for it at the same time, Christopher doesn’t seem perturbed at all. They seem like childhood friends, really. Y/N finds their dynamic quite cute. 

While he believes Harry is distracted, Niall whispers the demand, “We are going out for drinks at the tavern soon, and you will explain all of this to me.” 

“Niall,” Harry’s voice is commanding, and when they both look over, he isn’t even looking at them – though his tone is warning, “Remember yourself.” 

He sighed, “Please?” He inquired, and Y/N giggled. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. Afternoons are always quite busy for them, so they were cleaning and closing up before long. It was nice because Harry stayed to help, though they did have to explain to him a few times that burning the leftovers to ash wasn’t an option. Harry walks Y/N home, and while she isn’t very scared of her trek to her cottage, there’s still a blanket of safety that comes with him being with her. She feels secure, like nothing and nobody could harm her. She hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. Or maybe that’s a lie, because she’s been feeling this for the last couple of days, since he’s been with her. Harry is a steady, calming, reassuring presence that Y/N has gotten very used to. So used to it, in fact, she isn’t sure what she would do without it. 

That night, Harry tucks her back into his chest for sleep, but Y/N’s mind is racing. 

This is bad. Very bad. She can feel her heart grow more and more fond with every passing moment they spend together. Y/N could admit that she was always someone who – if in proximity with someone for long enough – would start to have a big, fat crush on them. She’d even liked Niall for a little while, when they first started working together, and Niall didn’t do even half of the things that Harry had done for her. Five days of bonding, five days of seeing him from sunrise to sundown, and five nights of her not wanting him to leave her cottage to go back to his home. 

But there was a pulling that she had never felt with anyone before. A tugging at her heart, like he’d tied a string to it and pulled every so often. When he was out of her sight for even a moment, it felt quite painful, like he was unintentionally dragging and plucking at that string when he ambled further away. What would it be like when he had to go back to the forest? Would she be miserable? Would it get easier? She was starting to worry that she’d become too dependent on him in such a short amount of time. Was this some dragon magic? Should she ask Christopher about this? 

Sadly, the only person who could probably give her an answer right away would be Harry, but she finds herself shy to ask him. What if this isn’t a normal response to spending a heat with someone? What if his brows curl inward and he puts distance between their snuggled bodies? That would probably feel like a punch to the gut, at this rate, and she really just doesn’t know why.

“This human brain,” his clawed fingers graze at her scalp, making motions like jellyfish tentacles, that send shivers up her spine, “Thinks entirely too much, and entirely too loudly. What troubles you?” 

And how could he always tell? Was it something her scent was giving off? Or could he read her mind? Or, perhaps, maybe not her mind, but was he able to sense a turbulence there? Could he tell when she was unsettled? 

Y/N knows now would have been the time to probe him, but she won’t – she can’t – it feels too embarrassing, So instead, she drags her finger over the mark she’d made on his shoulder, and her heart races when he hums a soft sound. “You did not need me intimately, today,” she noted, clearing her throat, “Is your heat nearly finished?” 

Harry’s fingers pause, like he wasn’t expecting her to bring it up. It’s only for a second, but it was noticeable enough for Y/N to read too deeply into it, when he hums again, “Ah, yes, it should be finished by tomorrow,” he explains to her, “They go by far quicker when you spend it with someone. I’ve been able to satisfy my nesting urges as well, thanks to you.” Y/N doesn’t know what that means, but he seems pleased by it, so she feels happy. At least as happy as she can, though her insides feel sad and squidgy. This is horrible, and nowhere near like the high she’d felt the two days previous. 

“I’m glad I could help.” She finally settles on saying, then snuggles closer into him, “Would you purr again for me?” 

It rumbles through him in an instant, and Y/N melts. 

                                                                        .                    .                . 

Harry stays for two more nights before he finally leaves. And while Y/N had suspected him of leaving at some point soon, she had sort of expected him to at least bid her a farewell. Instead, one night she falls asleep nestled beneath his chin, with his arm around her waist, and his leg stretched over both of hers (this is how he prefers her, beside him, but simultaneously below him, like he could protect her from something if it were to catch them in their slumber), and the following morning, Y/N wakes up alone. 

It’s a weird feeling. Y/N had woken up alone for many years – all her life, really, as far as sharing a bed with someone. But she’d grown used to Harry in the week that she’d spent with him. Was used to waking up warm and protected. Used to feeling like she’d slept hard and deep, like she’d danced in the world of dreams all night long and regained every bit of energy she lost throughout the day. 

So to wake up alone was odd, and even sadder than she anticipated. To find the note written on the pad that Y/N had given Harry, in his scribbled scrawl, a Thank You – was even worse somehow. This sucked even more than when she’d told the neighbor boy she loved him, he’d slept with her, and then the next day she found out he was betrothed to his fourth cousin, a town over. Because at least Y/N had thought she had a chance with the neighbor boy, with this dragon, she knew she never stood a chance, yet she still let her stupid brain convince her that there was something magical stirring between them. 

But whatever. It is fine. Y/N won’t cry about it because she doesn’t cry about silly things, and this is a silly thing. She goes about her day as she always would, and when Niall inquires where “the big meanie” is, Y/N musters up her most unbothered tone to say, “Oh, he went back to the forest today.” 

“Oh?” Niall looks horrified, “It’s freezing out, though? Does he live outside?” 

“He’s a dragon.” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

Y/N doesn’t hear from him that day, and she doesn’t seek him out either. Actually, she doesn’t hear from him or from Christopher for two weeks before she decides that instead of being sad, she’s kind of pissed off. Like, sure, she hasn’t gone to look for him, but he knew for sure where she lived! He could have come to check on her at least – it’s really cold, and the whole time he stayed with her, he questioned how she would survive without him there to warm her. He’d said it enough that she started wondering, too! Plus, he’d eaten her food, used her water, and slept in her nice bed, with her soft sheets that smelled so good. And she let him split her thighs whenever he wanted! However, he needed, for his stupid, dumb heat. 

What a dick! All men of every species are the same, she guesses! 

And that damn tugging on her heart isn’t even making her sad anymore, it’s just pissing her off. Especially when she wakes up in the middle of the night shivering, going to stoke her fire, thinking about how Harry had been the one doing it all night. Or when she sees the dragon books on her shelf, she yanks them out from where they’d been nestled between the others and finally returns them. Or when she sees Christopher out in the town, and he makes eye contact with her, smiling, she scowls and heads the other way, ignoring when he calls after her. 

She feels stupid and a little crazy to have gotten so attached. So what, his body was receptive towards her? He’d said they’d just have to wait it out anyway. Y/N was the one who suggested she help him through it; it’s not like he’d made the first move anyway. He’d even told her that being with her helped his nesting or whatever. The only reason he’d even spent it with her is that he doesn’t trust other humans, and there were no other dragons nearby. So he needed someone – a warm human body that could get him through it, and let him fulfill all his possessive, caretaking desires, and Y/N was just the easiest to do it with. Because she’d always been easy, hasn’t she? That’s what everyone always whispers about her anyway. 

A knock on her door tears her from her brooding. She’d been grouchy for about a week now, even Niall noticed, and the offer to get a drink was more about letting off steam and less about her explaining the dragon to him. At least that’s how he phrased it – that they’ve been slammed at work lately, and they need to take a break and relax. The few times she was able to muster a smile were when her neighbor came by and offered her more eggs and grain as a preemptive thank you for the socks she was meant to knit their children. Otherwise, she’d been staring at everyone quite irately. 

She goes to answer the door, thinking that it’d be – well, she isn’t sure, at this hour. It could be Niall, coming to cash in on that drink, or it could be one of her neighbors – she had finished quite a few clothes for them lately, and one of the older women meant to come for her tea leaves Y/N had harvested. 

But when she opens the door, she sees Christopher. Which, honestly, felt as bad as seeing Harry, so she went to slam the door shut on him. 

“Wait!” He cries out, slamming his hand flat against the door before she could swing it shut the whole way, “C’mon, wait, Y/N, I know you’re upset with him, but I haven’t done anything.” 

“You haven’t beaten him up yet, that’s more than enough reason to be upset.” She gripes, and Christopher laughs, disbelieving. 

“Listen, if I could, I would, Honey, but I reckon my chances at winning against a dragon end with me being seared alive.” He presses a little, and Y/N lets him, revealing more of her face, “I have something for you. And I wanted to say something too, because despite being a dragon, his bravery right now is chicken shit.” 

Y/N peers at him for a moment before huffing, turning on her heel, and stalking back into her cottage. She can hear Christopher coming in behind her, closing her door carefully. Y/N flops down onto her sofa with another huff, arms crossed over her chest, brows dipped as Christopher kicks off his shoes and rids himself of his coat. Typically, she is a much better host than this. She would offer him a drink, something warm to nurse between his cold fingers, and maybe one of the baked goods she took from her job as her form of daily payment. But since she’s mad, and she can’t take it out on Harry since he’s M.I.A., then she’ll just have to take it out on Christopher. 

He doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of hospitality, though, as he produces the very familiar bag that Y/N had been keeping her jewels in that Harry had gifted her. She hadn’t checked on them in a while, which she guesses is a good thing, because they wouldn’t have been where she left them. Christopher takes a seat beside her, smiling softly, “Aish, come on, Y/N, can’t you save that glare for him?” 

“Why are you here?” She asks, but she tries to soften her gaze a bit – he’s right, even though she doesn’t want to hear it. Harry’s the reason why she’s upset, so Harry is the person she should be taking it out on, not his friend, but. . .well, she’s still mad and wants someone to feel her wrath. “And where the hell is that dummy?” 

Christopher laughs, “That ‘dummy’ is currently stressed in his cave right now because he thinks he’s fucked everything.” Y/N’s brows deepen even further, a frown pulling at her mouth, “Ugh, how do I say this? He always leaves me to explain shit, but then scolds me for doing it wrong, y’know? In this dynamic, I’m a victim consistently.” He grimaces, “Basically, um, while you and Harry were spending his heat together, he may have imprinted on you? Or you imprinted on him? Or, perhaps, the two of you were fated to begin with – he was speaking so fast last I saw him, he barely made any sense.” 

“Imprinted?” Y/N repeated, confused, “Like a duck?” 

“Ah, yes, I suppose – though I would say his likeness is more to a wolf than a sweet duckling,” he motions towards her, “I’m of the belief that this happened away before his heat, and that’s why you’ve been able to come and go through the forest and his boundaries as you please. Whether it be a red string of fate or something that was written into the stars, or the craters in the moon, there’s a reason that you crossed paths. A reason that you returned despite his turning you away again and again. And a reason that he was so receptive to you during heat,” he motioned outside, “Heats are – from what I understand of them – periods of time that they aren’t just sexually. . .robust, but emotionally very vulnerable. I once stumbled upon him during his heat, and he’d waxed poetic about how dear a friend I am to him, then avoided me for two months out of embarrassment. The words are his own, the actions are his own, but if not for this period of vulnerability, the likelihood of him saying or doing those things is. . .very low. He’s a dragon, but an emotionally repressed one.” 

Y/N groaned, pulling her legs up onto the couch and tucking her knees under her chin, “So what? He got embarrassed for taking care of me? For cuddling at night? I’m confused – it’s not like he even confessed to me or something,” she exclaimed, “He just did stuff around the cottage and followed me around!” 

“That’s as a profession as any,” Christopher told her, “I need you to stop thinking like a human and start thinking like an animal, yeah? He was taking care of you because he wanted to show you that he could be a good mate. Penguins present pebbles for building nests, and pufferfish create beautiful designs in the sea floor – they don’t vocalize their interest, they show it, yeah? Both his body and mind – and he hasn’t felt this way before, so he’s scared and embarrassed and unsure of himself.” 

She groans again, rolling her eyes, “He could’ve just explained this to me himself,” she grumbled, “I never thought him a coward.” 

“I know,” he reaches for the pouch, carefully pulling it open and reaching inside of it, “He dropped these off for me to make into jewelry for you, then flustered through his complicated feelings in the most complicated way. I’m not here to encourage you either way,” he pulls out a necklace, much less gaudy than what Harry’s look like, but still bright, pretty, a sapphire gemstone glittering in a pear-shaped cut. On either side of it, on the chain, are more, smaller sapphires cut in teardrops – she thinks the chain is fit in a way that would rest along her collarbones. Christopher holds it out until Y/N takes it from his hand, feeling the weight of it against her palm, “Honestly, I think it’s good on you to make him wait, or to give him hell. Believe it or not, a dragon prince gets what he wants most of the time, so it’s good to make him shake in his boots a bit. But I didn’t want you thinking that he’d just up and left you with no feelings in the matter.” 

Y/N is annoyed and relieved. She’s annoyed at her relief. She’s irritated that he didn’t come to tell her himself, but thankful that at least Christopher came to explain it to her. 

“What took you so long to come tell me?” Y/N asks, finally, “I’ve been in such a rotten mood.” 

“Don’t I know it? You keep staring at me as if I stole from you,” he takes out more jewelry, laying them out on the table in front of them, “I sadly had more faith in Harry than he probably deserves. After I realized you weren’t going to him, I thought maybe he would come to you out of desperation. Instead, every time I visit him, he just sadly asks if you’re okay. It’s getting to be depressing.” 

Y/N thuds her head against the back of her sofa, “He’s annoying,” she grumbles, and Christopher laughs. 

“That he is,” he answered, “Come, won’t you let me take you for something good to eat?” 

                                                       .                           .                        .

Going out in the middle of the night, in the snow, probably isn’t the best idea. 

Y/N isn’t known for her best ideas, though, now that she thinks about it. The issue is, is that after her dinner with Christopher, her belly is full and her mind is a little more at ease than it has been. But she’s also slightly drunk off two glasses of high-dollar wine (because Christopher makes money where this is not putting him out), and Christopher drops her off at her door with a question, “Do you think you’ll go and see him?” 

“Yes, probably,” she replied, “If the snow isn’t horrible in the morning.” 

But even two glasses of wine in, sleep doesn’t find her. It never finds her easily anymore, now that she knows what it was like to sleep in the same bed as Harry. She tosses and turns for hours, upon hours, until she’s sitting up, looking out her window to see the moon high in the sky and a fresh sheet of snow blanketing the ground. The snow, like tiny mirrors, reflects the light of the moon and the stars, so the sky is much brighter on snowy nights like these. So, while it isn’t safe to travel at night, at least she’d be able to see, and she may be able to put this to rest, and settle this annoying ache in her chest. 

She shoves on her thickest socks, puts on her new gloves, and layers her winter robes and dress with her thickest coat. This coat, in particular, she meant to line with fur, but she simply could not wear a poor animal around her neck, so she never got around to it. Still, it was her warmest layer and kept her almost overheated in the coldest of winter winds. She pulls a hat over her ears and – last minute – debates on whether or not she should remove the necklace with his jewels in it. Y/N had put it on before she went with Christopher for food, but she doesn’t want Harry thinking that she’d forgiven him so quickly. He needs to grovel a bit, she decides. 

The wind is chilly when it brushes past her face. And even in her snowboots, she can feel the cold worm its way between her toes. This probably should have been her indication to turn around and go back inside, but she was stubborn and on a mission, so she pressed forth. She crunched through the snow, her familiar trek to the forest in the almost eerie quiet of the night. The only thing she can hear is her own breath and the sound of her footsteps, which – if she focused too closely on – would make her panic. But she decided there was no need to. When she got into the forest, maybe Harry would sense her, and out of irritation that she was being unsafe, he’d meet her quickly. 

So long as he wasn’t asleep, she guessed. Or, so long that Christopher didn’t have this all wrong, and he actually didn’t want to see her at all. Either way, she was getting an answer tonight, and she didn’t care how she was getting it. Whether it be from his own mouth or from his actions. 

Y/N didn’t think about the possibility of other animals being in the forest until she was already a few meters beyond the trees. The wind whistled through the branches, blowing the flakes from on top of the trees down in little dusty plumes around her. It was still snowing, but it wasn’t very heavy, and she could tell beneath the layer of snow it was slick, like ice. That would be annoying, trying to shovel through in the morning, when she made it home safe, back in her bed. Hopefully, with a stupid, annoying, embarrassed dragon at her side, keeping her warm. She’d need this after this bone-deep chill. He’d probably need to thaw her at this rate. 

It’s hard to tell where she’s going at night, if she’s honest, especially now that everything looks so similar in the snow. The tree roots and boulders she used as landmarks to make it to and from were covered, so she was moving based off feel alone. But she wonders if the wine has her feeling skewed, because she’s been out for what feels like way longer than it’s ever taken her to find her way before. If she were warmer, then frustrated tears might burn up her cheeks, but she thinks any form of water inside of her must be frozen. She stumbles a few times and just barely catches herself, digging her numb fingers through bark – her gloves are thick, but not thick enough to, it seems, as she can still feel every jagged edge. Now that she thinks about it. Christopher designs things for style, not for usage, so it would make sense. 

The further she walks through the forest, the slipperier it feels like the ground is. So slippery that Y/N accidentally steps onto a rock with a thin sheet of ice over the top, and not enough packed snow to give her any form of traction. She saw a fall coming in her near future, but she hadn’t seen the twist of her ankle, or that she would tumble quite as hard as she did. Because with Y/N, things are never halfhearted. If she were to fall, then she would roll down a small hill, her body crashing into the iced-over creek. Her weight makes it crack, of course, and water seeps up into the fabric of her clothes. 

Great. This is great. Now her ankle throbs and her clothes are wet, and it’s cold enough that she’s sure to become hypothermic. She’d freeze over at this rate! All for a stupid dragon! 

“Stupid, horrible, no good, dragon,” she grumbles to herself, trying to ignore the fear that drips as a solid weight in her chest as she pushes herself up, grabbing hold of a root that thankfully still jutted out from the snow. She drags herself as best she can up on the other side of the creek, where it’s less steep, so she wouldn’t have to lug the weight of her clothes up what looked like a mountain from this angle. This is the worst. She should have just stayed home and let him think she hated him or something; that would’ve been ten times better than whatever this is.  

Just as she has yanked herself up onto the other side, she’s about to try and figure out what to do. She’s exhausted, her ankle surely wouldn’t be suitable to walk on without some sort of cane for the time being, and unless she can find a large stick, she’s not imagining she’d be so lucky. Which means if Harry, or someone, didn’t find her, she probably would freeze out here – there’s no way, with how long she’d been out here already, that she would make it until morning. Maybe she could drag herself back home? But that would mean having to get across this creek again, or finding a way across the creek, and from the looks of how long it is from either side – well, her luck doesn’t seem to be there either. 

Actually, maybe, her luck has completely run out, because she hears a growl come from her right. When her head whips over, she halfway expects to see a wolf – something that was snapping and gnawing, drool dripping, teeth prepared to eat her. Instead, she sees a dragon – a dragon who has eyes that are not purple. A dragon who doesn’t look like what she remembers of Harry at all. Her insides twist uncomfortably, fear really dripping through her now. 

“Oh god,” she lets out a frustrated sound, “Please, I’m no good as dragon food.” It stops growling, at least, and regards her carefully when she holds up her hands, “I was just out here trying to find a different dragon, and then I fell because I’m stupid. I know you can hear me because you’re a human in there, and I know all about the great war and the – the other stuff. I’m not here to be a nuisance or anything. Honestly, if you just like pick me up and drop me off outside of the forest, I’ll figure it out from there. Do you know Harry?” The dragon blinks at her, its huge body blocking most of her vision – how the hell had she missed it before? “He’s who – I’m looking for, because he’s – he’s a jerk.” 

The dragon huffs steam through its nose, and Y/N closes her eyes. If they’re going to burn her alive, she truly doesn’t want to see it coming. 

But with her eyes closed, the weight of her exhaustion drags her under. Or maybe she was just passing out? She isn’t sure. The still, quiet of the night becomes even quieter, though, and Y/N drifts into a dreamless place. 

                                                            .                             .                            .

“Prince Harry, there is a human in my cave looking for you.” 

No words had pulled Harry to his feet quicker. Which should have been a heavy feat, given he’d all but melted into the floor of his cave, cemented in his despondence and general annoyance with himself for being such a coward. He’d spent weeks wallowing in his own misery, feeling an undeniable and insistent tugging at his heart, every time he moved, and every time he stayed still, and every time he breathed. It was horrible – had he just stuck around and explained himself to her, then there’d be no need for such misery. 

But how could he? He’d done all of that through sheer instinct and the haze of his heat. It isn’t like they were things he didn’t want to do, but they were definitely things that he would not have had the gall to do without some sort of influence. Especially without speaking to her about it beforehand. To just suddenly impose himself on her after she’d stumbled upon him resting in the forest, after she’d touched his horns, after she had made him something – there were discussions to be had! Boundaries and foundations to be made. Things to do that weren’t just tasting her greedily and grinding against her filthily.

There had been something off about her the moment he’d met her. When she’d found him in the wisteria meadow, trapped, in pain, vulnerable beyond measure – and all she simply did was get him out of it, despite the fear he could smell in her sweet scent. She’d helped him, then went on her way, trying not to show how her whole body trembled from the experience. Harry had been sure he’d scared her off, yet he’d sensed her in his forest again. And again. And again. She had no intention of being scared off, he found quickly, and had no intention of listening to him either when he told her to leave and not return. 

He should have known then that there was something deeper that pulled them together. Why could she amble through his boundaries, no problem, stepping passed the invisible divide of his world and theirs. Where he exists, the wisteria flowers are always in bloom, and the trees maintain their leaves year-round. There is plenty of food, foliage, hot springs, and clean water to drink. It is enhanced by magic passed on from generation to generation in the royal family to bring ease in life. While she’d only experienced part of it, he knew she wasn’t returning merely for what felt like a different realm. Honestly, he isn’t even sure if she knew that it was. 

No, she kept returning for him. To see him, to be near him, to ask him questions – she wanted to be close, even if she did not understand it. Her body and soul yearned for him before her mind could have ever, and he was in the same boat. It wasn’t just a stubborn attitude, and Harry only found this out for certain when he had stayed for her the week of his heat. While she could be stubborn for a brief moment, if something did not reveal itself ot her, then she gave up rather quickly. So what she felt toward him wasn’t just a normal obstinate character. Something else drove her. 

And even after Harry had answered question after question, seemingly satiating her curiosity, she did not seem to bore or tire of him. No matter how pushy he was, how needy he seemed – she appeared pleased to be under his care, happy to wake up at his side, absolutely taken when he brought her release with his mouth and fingers. Had even asked multiple times if he would fill her up, pierce her with his cock, and while he refused for her comfort, he throbbed and leaked at the mention each time. 

His mind had felt at complete ease with her, something Harry had not felt in many years. Or perhaps, maybe he had never felt it. He isn’t sure. He just knows that when he was with her, his mind was quiet, his heart felt soft, and the weight of past worries seemed to have lifted. There’s a marrow-deep contentment that came from feeding her by hand, waking in the night to continue the fire, warming her through his natural heat as they cuddled close beneath the covers. To gather wood, to help tend her garden, to fantasize, even, about bringing her food and helpful tools that would bring ease to her life – ran the fulfillment even deeper. When he was with her, he’d only ever been distressed by the fact that he had not been with her sooner. 

Harry had never felt this way before, and in all things that are unknown to him, there is fear that manifests its obnoxious head. He woke up the morning he left, feeling clear-headed, and embarrassed for pressing her into this play dragon couple without talking it through with her first. Y/N had gone along with it because she’s kind, and she wanted her questions answered, so why wouldn’t she entertain his dragon musings? And in the haze of his heat, he was just pleased to have this reciprocated. That she was allowing him to care for her like a lover. 

But to be completely sobered from the hormones inducing his heat, Harry feels quite silly. Like he’d forced her into it, unintentionally, or made her feel like she had to, to get answers that she wanted. Even though the logical part of his brain tells him that there is much more to it than this, the irrational part says that he should be humiliated by his display. Hell, he’d even growled at someone for ordering food from her! Growled! How outrageously possessive could he get? 

Some of him believes she is his; his to claim, to take care of, to love. And some of him believes she might hate someone – dragon or otherwise – who would impose her with all of this. 

So he runs, and he hides, and he whines to Christopher about how hard his life is lately. Christopher encourages him to speak to her, but Harry just can’t convince himself that it is a good idea. He’d mess it up somehow, he’s certain of it. He’s never been good with words, least of all communication with humans. 

And as far as he’s concerned, she hadn’t tried to see him. The constant nagging and tugging in his heart is as it always is, even tonight. Even when he heard Mitch’s wings, sensed him turning bipedal, and entering the mouth of Harry’s cave, where he’d been sitting close. He was watching the snow from far away, wondering if it was like this at Y/N’s tiny cave. How would she make it outside when it was this cold? He hoped she had proper human winter clothes for it. 

But then Mitch says it, so simply, that a human is looking for him in Mitch’s cave, and he’d moved faster than he had in days. 

“What?” Harry rushed, “Explain.” 

Mitch brushed his long hair off his shoulder (it’s due time he cuts it, but he’d been growing it for a while now, because the dragon he’d courted liked it this way – it was nearly the length of Harry’s but nowhere near as full, curled, and voluminous), then pointed a thumb back toward his boundary. If you could call it that. Mitch stays near Harry’s boundary as something like a confidant – he is the one who transmits messages from the royal court to Harry, and from Harry to the royal court, without him having to do so himself. Truly, Harry likes to be unbothered by all of it, so he does most of his work through Mitch, and Mitch does not mind, so long as he can reap the benefits of royal wealth. 

“I was hunting east when I’d heard a commotion, Sir, and a human woman was dragging herself from a creak. She was grumbling about stupid dragon this and stupid dragon that. She inquired if I knew you and said she was looking for you because. . .well, I do not wish to say.” 

Harry’s eyes are wild, he knows, he can feel them as heat flourishes through his body, “Is she hurt? Why bring her to your cave and not to me?”

“Because I was unsure of the validity of her statements, Sir. She passed out soon after she spoke to me.” He replied carefully, “My mate tends to her wounded leg now, and dries her wet clothes by fire. Do you wish for me to bring her here?” 

He shook his head, “No, no,” he denied him, “I’ll bring her myself.” 

                                                                  .                           .                           .

Y/N eases into consciousness slowly. 

She feels warm, which is nice. When she had passed out, she recalls the cold chilling her down to the bone, but this warmth is close to something she’d been craving. She thinks that dragon fire is different than regular fires. Dragon fires are hotter, and burn brighter, and the warmth melts into your muscles and loosens every fiber. That’s how she knows that’s what she’s feeling. She’d just hope she wasn’t tied to a skewer and rotating slowly above it like a roast of some kind. 

The second thing that comes to her is scent. Y/N is in now cottage right now, she knew that much. There is the damp smell of earth that tickles her nose; of rock covered in moss and fresh water. Y/N doesn’t know what to compare it to – a mountain, maybe? And the echoed crackles of the fire might suggest that she’s enclosed somewhere, along with the way the wind doesn’t seem to be hitting her. 

So when she finally opens her eyes, and his greeted with the inside of a cave, the full picture comes together. She lay near a fire, away from the mouth of it but close enough that if she felt the need to escape, she could. Y/N doesn’t think she’d need to, though – her clothes had been stripped from her, down to just her lowest layer, and they were all spread out close to the fire. Waiting for the heat to dry them. Even her socks and shoes were intricately placed. She, herself, is resting on a platform of what seems to be a bed of velvet grass and large leaves, but is nowhere near as rough as it should be. It’s actually quite soft, bracketed by sticks and rocks woven in the plumes of a gossamer plant she didn’t recognize. 

To her right sits a woman, naked as Harry was the first time she saw him, only with a cloth covering her bits. Y/N almost screams when she sees her, but manages to hold her tongue, especially when she looks down to see that her ankle is wrapped. Was this the one who found her? 

“Um, excuse me?” Y/N began gently, nervously, and the woman turned and blinked at her, a soft smile on her mouth, “Are you – are you the one who saved me?” 

She shook her head, “No, not me,” then she pointed out toward the mouth of the cave, “Mitch is, but he left to speak to Prince Harry. They will arrive soon. I smell them.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, “Oh,” she pushes herself to sit up, “I see. Thank you for watching over me.” 

A couple of things were swirling through her mind. The first being that Y/N has just met two more dragons in the span of. . .well, she isn’t sure how long, but it was still night, so she would guess a couple of hours at most. They seemed nice enough – despite the one who growled at her, he’d probably just been scared. If Harry was wary of humans and he knew Christopher, she could only imagine what it must feel like to not know even a single human and to stumble upon one in the middle of the night. In their territory, no less, that they probably assumed nobody had access to. 

The second thing that swirls through her head is that she was about to see Harry for the first time in a while. All the gusto she had fueled by wine and anger had pittered out, left in creak with the slippery ice and snow. Now she was embarrassed, tired, feeling stupid, and sad. The sadness that probably should have lingered for longer before she was just angry. The probably healthier process of feelings that she should have gone through before reducing it all into something grumpy and volatile. 

This all got so messed up for no good reason. All he needed to do was talk to her; she would have heard him out, she would have welcomed how he was feeling. 

Y/N hears them before she sees them, and the dragon woman she’s with also straightens up and turns her head toward the entrance. The sound of wings flapping is loud, the deep rumbles of something larger than life, and then the subtle but sudden shift of four paws landing, to two feet clicking against stone. Harry whips around the mouth of the cave with a frantic gaze, darting around until it settles on her, where she lies by the fire. Something in said frantic gaze softens considerably as he rushes over to her. 

He drops to his knees beside her, his fingers hesitant, hovering over her injured ankle with a pouted frown and a low, pained whine. His eyes look all over her, pressing the fabric of her dress around like he’s making sure there are no other bumps or bruises that he could visualize on her. All until he makes it to her face, grabbing her by either side and moving her head around, “Harry,” she whines, as he moves her about, “C’mon, stop it! I’m okay.” 

Harry huffs a sharp breath through his nose before pulling her back to look at him, still holding her. His eyes are soft for her, worried, and fond. 

“’Ve told you before, love. Y’need t’ignore Jason. He’s the worst,” Harry reminded her. His voice was gentle as he turned backward to look as he pulled out of their parking space. It was something he always did. Harry didn’t trust the back-up camera while she relied on it like her best friend.

Before they started dating it made her roll her eyes and she’d make a cutting remark about how silly it was that he didn’t use it. It was to the car’s advantage; he should use it.

But now, it worked for her because Harry grabbing hold of the back of her passenger seat and turning created a tensing effect on his arm muscles, the line of his neck, and moved all the way to the sharp jawline that made her stomach flip. She looked away quickly and found interest in her hands on her lap before she started to drool over his pretty face. (She would admit that there was a bit of ogling that she would do before she started dating him. So, at the very least, it was worth making that cutting remark.)

“I know,” she mumbled.

“I really think y’should leave, kitten,” he reminded her pulling forward.

“You hate working with me that much? I thought we were over this.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. It would probably mean that Harry would also quit his job if she left. He couldn’t imagine working without her. Not spending hours and hours of his life commuting with her. It wouldn’t be the same, wouldn’t be fair.

They kept their relationship a secret. Not because of any specific reason. There was no rule that you couldn’t date a coworker at Prosperis Financial. Peter and Lenoard had been together for years and no one cared. There was a slew of coworkers that dated on and off and no one batted an eyelash.

But it would be different for her. She was already marked with a flag of not being good enough. Jason’s sunny disposition toward her was proof enough of that. The moment it was out that she was in love with Harry, everyone would attribute all her skills to him. Every decision she made and every idea she had would be Harry’s.

He didn’t care. Harry was happy to do whatever she wanted to make her happy. He was the one that got to spend all kinds of time with her. Got to put his hand in her lap while he drove and squeezed her pretty thigh when he wanted more of her attention.

Harry was the one that got to live with her for six weeks. He waited on her, like it was his real job while her leg healed. He got to sleep with her (more than just the one meaning). If she didn’t want work to know about their love life that was fine by him. He got to keep all the beautiful and sexy parts of her to himself and that’s all he wanted.

“There’s traffic this way,” she told him.

He took a deep sigh, centering himself for an argument. But the arguments weren’t as painful now. If anything, they were almost fun. A small reminder of the beginning of their love story. “M’aware, m’love.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she grumbled.

“’Ve had m’license for a lot longer than we’ve been driving together.”

“I know, I know.”

He smirked and gave her pretty thigh a squeeze and then blindly felt around her lap for her hand until his fingers threaded between hers. Without taking his eyes off the road, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her knuckles. “Thanks for helping, kitten,” he said kindly.

“Imagine all the arguing we could have stopped if we just made out sooner,” she sighed forlornly.

He chuckled, smiled a bit brighter, and shrugged. “Oh, s’alright… it was worth it.”

“Mm, sure. But you have to agree it’s much nicer to drive without our grumpy arguing.”

“Yeah, now s’only when you’re tired or hungry… so really nothing has changed since s’all the time,” he smiled while he winked at her. Gave her hand a soft squeeze, too. Almost instantly, she jabbed her fist into his arm (not hard at all). “Hey m’driving!”

“Oh, I know,” she mumbled with mock bitterness in her voice.

“Y’shouldn’t do that when m’driving, kitten. M’carrying precious cargo,” he reminded her and kissed the back of her hand a few more times.

She felt her cheeks warm with the insinuation that she was his precious cargo. “Don’t try to butter me up after you said I get tired and hungry like a little kid.”

“Well, you do,” he muttered.

Harry’s arm was going to hurt the entire drive home. But it was worth it.

*

“You know you would be the perfect candidate to help run it,” she said. Once a week right before lunch she made her way into Julie’s office. Almost always to ask a question. But almost always ended with eating lunch together. Sometimes it was almost an impromptu performance meeting. They chatted about new shows they were watching, new work tasks, new skin products they were using, and the like. It was hard being some of the only females in the company, but they made it work. It was nice to have Julie to rely on and be there for her. She always felt supported and never felt awkward asking for help. If anything, Julie seemed happier when she asked, than if she didn’t.

She shook her head, sighed. “The guys won’t like it.”

“Who gives a shit if they don’t like it?” Julie rolled her eyes.

She smirked, sipping from her water bottle as she mulled that thought over. Julie was probably right. But how could she not think about the biggest obstacles? Of course she wanted the new task. She actually would really love it. But she didn’t think it would work. The second they realized she was going to be part of the boys’ club and wasn’t going to stand for their testosterone filled bullshit, they’d want her out. They’d quietly make her miserable. Sure, not all of them would act like that. But the few outweighed the many. It was unfortunate, but true. “I know…but…”

“Oh my God, shut up. Just…apply. Would you? I know there’s the bullshit of men you’ll have to deal with but… why shouldn’t you apply and do it? You’re twice as good as some of your colleagues,” she reminded her. Plain and simple. “Plus, you already know Harry, so it would be easier to work with—”

She almost choked on her lunch. “Harry is running it?”

“Yeah, you know him, right? I heard you carpool to and from work. That’s cool of you both to care about the environment that much. He’s lucky he has you to keep you company. Must be really entertaining to chat with you,” she complimented.

Julie was one of the main reasons she stayed. Harry was rapidly becoming the other reasons (but even though they argued, he never made her feel less than. So, he had always been a reason to stay—even before they started dating).

But she couldn’t work alongside him without everyone commenting on their relationship—whether they knew the truth or not. She especially couldn’t work beneath him. She wasn’t concerned about how he or she would be in such a position (honestly, Harry was a hard worker, and it would be really awesome to work with him). It would be too…obvious somehow. It felt like if they worked that closely together, everyone would know.

“Just think about it, yeah? I really think it would be perfect for you.”

What was the harm in applying? It would be nice to know she could do it—that she earned it.

But Harry hadn’t told her that he was running the project that she complained about in the car. She went on and on how it was unfair that she couldn’t apply because it would just turn into the boys’ club that she didn’t want to be part of and then she would get even less credit. He didn’t say a word about running it.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it,” she nodded. “Good idea.”

*

“Hey love, how was your day?” He asked, dropping into the passenger seat of her car. It wasn’t brand new, but it was nice. It was a lot like her totaled car. She had Harry to thank for the help in not getting totally, financially ruined by the dealership.

“Good,” she nodded waiting for him to get settled and buckled. He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers briefly. The weather had been snowy and cold for the last few days. Her fingers were cold despite the heat coming strong through her vents. “How was yours?”

“Good.” The silence hung in the air for a few moments. “Everything okay?” He asked while she pulled out of the garage.

She nodded. “Yeah, fine.”

He tilted his head at her as she focused on the road. “It doesn’t sound fine.”

There was no use waiting to talk about it. There were forty-five minutes to argue and knowing their track record, she wanted to use every single one. The weather was rapidly getting worse.

The weather was getting worse by the second. Harry was hoping the snow would hold off until they got home. Until they could have hot chocolate and Harry could wrap the pair of them in a blanket.

Instead, she flicked on the windshield wipers. “You’re running the new project.” She stated.

Fuck. Harry sighed. “Yeah.”

She didn’t speak for a moment. Instead, she just sat in the fact she had already figured it out and Harry was agreeing with her knowledge. She was sure he was processing the same situation in the same manner. She complained about the project, how she wanted to apply, all while he didn’t speak a word about knowing he was going to be running it.

“I was going to tell you,” he added.

“When?”

“When… when…?”

She sighed heavily. “Harry… when were you going to tell me?”

“I know, m’sorry, kitten. Really. I jus’… y’were talking ‘bout it and y’were clearly upset and how awful would it have been if y’were saying how grumpy you were and then “oh by the way, I’ll be in charge of the project?” y’would have been mad at me.”

“I’m quite good at compartmentalizing those feelings, Harry. This just feels mean. Like you kept it from me.”

“I didn’t mean t’keep it from you, my love. I jus’ wanted you t’apply without knowing I would be your supervisor for the duration of the project.”

She shook her head and flicked her blinker filling the car with the clicking noise and her wipers and nothing else.

“Pull over y’know how I feel ‘bout y’driving while you’re upset.” She ignored him. Harry took a deep breath, sighed heavily. “Love, please. The snow is getting heavy.”

The worst part of a forty-five-minute commute was the weather had a chance of being totally different between work and home and snow just seemed to come down heavier by the second. Amplified with their argument it seemed to come down twice as fast. The flakes were massive, fluffy little puffs, making it harder to see and harder to navigate.

“How would that work exactly? You don’t get a say of who’s on the team? You’d know it’s me immediately if I applied.”

“A committee that Julie picks will make the decision,” he mumbled.

She squeezed the steering wheel tightly. “Harry, come on,” she groaned. “You’d know.”

He would.But… he knew how hard she worked, knew how good she was. And how fun would it be to work with his girlfriend that closely? He didn’t mind pretending, but it would be nice to be around her more throughout the day without raising suspicion. “Will y’pull over? Please, baby.”

Without making any more comments, no more sighing, she pulled over to the side of the road. Harry sighed with relief while she flicked on her hazard lights—not that she needed them. There was hardly anyone on the road and if there was someone driving by, they were crawling in hopes of not sliding across the road. “It made me feel so stupid to sit there and hear it from Julie. I’m happy for you, Harry. I really am. But how—”

“Kitten, I promise—”

“No, I’m not done!”

“You can argue more in a second, my love I jus’ need t’say—”

“It’s not fair. I would have understood. As much as I complained—”

It was ridiculous. But she was tired of defending herself and worth to everyone—and deep down she knew she didn’t have to do that with Harry—but it was too much. It was cold, she was tired, hungry, and just wanted to lay in Harry’s bed and let him rub her back until she fell asleep. She didn’t want to have to argue about her worth and all that. Harry praised her all the time for how intelligent she was and how she was one of the hardest working people he knew.

Fortunately, the weather had other plans for them.

A plow drove by. There were only a few inches of snow accumulating on the ground, but adding the plow’s deposit onto the stretch in front of them made her anxious instantly. There was a nice little embankment now that looked impossible to drive safely through.

She gasped. “Fuck.”

“Shit,” Harry hissed. “Swap seats with me, kitten,” he ordered. This time she listened. It was a little awkward. They pushed their seats back and gave themselves enough room to switch their spots. “Buckle, please,” he stated and pushed the seat back to a drivable position.

She did it without question. She gripped the console and the door grip, hard. She wanted to hold Harry’s hand, but he would need both. Slowly, he put her car in drive and inched forward. But it was just as Harry expected. It was enough to make them slide further off the road into a small little ditch. She screamed instinctively, Harry pressed his arm to the front of her body even though there was nothing that could be done and her car rocked a bit as they settled in the ditch. There would be no way to get out of it without a tow. Harry tried to accelerate just a bit, just to test it. No luck. And in this weather, who knew how long a tow was going to take.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“No! Is my car okay?” She sniffed.

“Baby,” he sighed softly and rubbed his hand over his face. “I’ll buy you another car if I have to. Are you okay?” He repeated.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You’re sure?” He asked.

She nodded. “Are you?” She asked.

He smiled. “M’fine, kitten. Promise.” Then, sighing heavily, Harry used his phone to contact the tow truck. He spoke for a few minutes and listened. Apologized a hundred times for the inconvenience in the bad weather. He turned his phone off and turned toward her. “S’unsafe t’drive right now. S’gonna be an hour and a half at least… maybe two.”

She frowned. “Fuck,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” He tilted his head and reached over to rub her leg. She wore a pretty skirt, tights, and a pair of chunky heels. Not ideal for a snowstorm. There was no way he could ask her to get out and help him to try and push themselves out of the ditch. He wouldn’t let her even if she was wearing the appropriate clothes. And she was clearly too shaken to try and help inside the car while he was outside it. He could predict her worry before it happened.

They would just have to wait. Harry didn’t want to waste gas, so he turned her car off. The hazard lights blinked against the snow—it was almost pretty. Like a precursor to the Christmas lights that they were going to set up in their apartments.

But she looked so fucking pretty it made him hot all over. Even in the cold car.

“If I didn’t get so upset, I wouldn’t have had to pull over. You were just trying to be kind to me and nice and—”

“Stop, kitten. Please. S’okay. We’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s cold and you’re probably hungry and I ruined our evening.”

“Baby,” he turned to her, shook his head. He grabbed both her hands and kissed her cold fingertips. “Y’didn’t do anything wrong. I should have told y’sooner.”

“But it’s cold,” she frowned.

He started to shed his jacket for her and reached back to grab the blanket she kept in the back seat. “No, you need your jacket,” she protested.

“You’re wearing a skirt, kitten. Just take the jacket.”

“But—”

“Kitten, take the coat. I’ll be fine.”

She pouted and placed it over herself. “I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing.”

“But—”

“Baby, please. Seriously. S’okay. We jus’ have to be patient.” The poor thing was still freezing, shivering already. The wind wasn’t helping either.

“Are you cold?” Her teeth chattered.

Harry wasn’t necessarily sweating, but she ran cold. That wasn’t a secret. He didn’t want her to get any colder. “M’okay, kitten. Jus’ worry ‘bout yourself.”

“But you’re cold,” she frowned.

Harry sighed, pushed his seat back again. “C’mere,” he reached out for her to come settle in his embrace.

“I’m not going to crush you?”

“I don’t think so, kitten,” he chuckled. “C’mere if y’want. M’going t’be fine either way.”

Pouting, she slid back across the console and almost fell into him. He sighed deeply. “So much better,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly to him.

“I’m not crushing you, right?”

He threw his voice to make it sound raspy, like he could hardly breathe. “Not at all, kitten,” he joked.

She flicked his cheek and nestled close to him. “I wanted to go home and lay in bed since we got in the car this morning,” she told him.

“Well, s’close,” he squeezed her again. She felt so good.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He kissed her temple. “I know baby, you don’t need to be. I should have told you,” he rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

For a few moments it was utterly quiet. Just the blinking of the hazard lights, their breath, and the snow falling silently on her car.

Unfortunately, for Harry, she felt too good. It was his own fault. He thought of the first time he licked her until she came on his tongue. The time he had a particularly bad day at work, and she thought the cure was sliding his dick into her mouth while he drove.  “Whatcha thinking about, Harry?” She giggled and shifted slightly against him. His dick was getting hard through his slacks and with her in a skirt bunched up in his lap, there was no use hiding it.

“Thinking ‘bout the first time we did it after y’got your cast off,” he mumbled. He wasn’t too embarrassed. Harry told her how obsessed he was with fucking her. He loved her little noises, how she felt against his body, and how he loved to be buried inside her until she was squeezing him with her own orgasm.

She nestled into him a little more. “That was nice.”

“Don’t get me wrong, kitten,” he trailed his lips along her hairline. “I loved fucking you with your cast on just as much. S’jus’ been extra special t’not have t’worry ‘bout hurting you.” She smiled, ducked her face into his shoulder, she pressed a kiss into his neck. “Y’know… if y’want me to keep you warmer, body heat is the best way to do that,” he nosed at her cheek.

“Harry,” she said. “We’re stationary.”

“Who’s gonna see, kitten? There’s no one on the road,” he slid his hands beneath the blanket, up her skirt and continued until he found the edge of her tights. “We have an hour and a half t’kill at minimum.” She was silent, ground back into him as he grew harder beneath her. He groaned softly. “It’ll be warmer,” he promised. She continued grinding against him making him swear under his breath. “Kitten?” He hummed brushing her hair to the side and sliding his lips across the curve of her neck.

She continued grinding, whimpering quietly but couldn’t help how good it felt. It was hard to stop herself because Harry was so handsome, so big, so lovely. Grinding against him was the least she could do and there was only so much she could do in the small space until she made her decision. “It seems a little…”

“I know, kitten. I know… I can be quick, does that help?”

“I don’t want it to be quick,” she grumbled.

He moaned again and kissed the shell of her ear. “Fine, whatever y’want, kitten. Hard, fast, slow, long, anything y’want,” he whispered. She shivered, but not because it was cold. “Yeah?” He asked. “If y’want to, jus’ have t’tell me, kitten.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, looped her hand up to cup his face and pulled him in for a kiss. “But you can’t take all my clothes off; it’s cold.”

He nodded eagerly. “Course not baby. Don’t want you t’be too cold,” his fingers dipped over the edge of her tights. He slid them down. Just to the middle of her thigh. He must have snagged her panties in the process because as he felt again for them, he realized the only thing that was between her warm, pretty pussy and his dick (that was still getting harder by the second because of her pretty self) was just his pants. He moved his hand forward, feeling gently for the bundle of nerves that would make her come in seconds if he wasn’t careful. She was so warm between her legs, Harry wished they had the space to get his face between her thighs. It would warm him up right away.

He moaned softly, feeling how wet she was from very little chatting about their situation already. He brushed his middle finger over her clit and she whimpered. He groaned. “Kitten, those pretty noises,” he whispered. He rubbed gently, making sure to hold the pressure the same, not changing the speed when she moaned again. “That’s it, baby. There you go,” he praised.

“Harry,” she croaked.

“I know, kitten. I know.”

Harry reached beneath her, snaking his hand between them again and to get his belt undone with one hand. He removed his hand from her body making her cry out again and helped his other hand to undo his button and zipper before he brought his hand back to her clit as quickly as he could. “That feels better, hmm, kitten?”

“Yes,” she nodded quickly against him. Harry used his free hand to pull his pants down mid-thigh as well. He worried the belt would poke into her soft thighs and hurt. Or maybe the zipper would pinch her pretty skin or rip her tights. But if it did, she didn’t make a complaint. Harry shifted slightly, pushing backwards in his seat more so they had more room between their intertwined bodies and the steering wheel. The last thing he wanted to do was draw more attention to their stranded car by accidentally hitting the horn. He twisted her slightly until she was facing him properly, her tights slid down to her knees which was just enough space for him to slide himself between her legs. His cock brushed against her center, it was wet and he was so warm she had no choice but to cry out.

He moaned in response, slowly he guided her back toward him, so her body was cradled thoroughly against his pelvis. The head of his cock brushed against her folds soaking him instantly. He tucked his face into her neck and moaned again trying to keep a bit of his composure so he wouldn’t come all over her just from brushing her over his dick. Slowly, he lined himself up to brush her entrance pushing gently into her. She gasped as she sank down on his cock. “God, fuck,” he hissed.

“Oh yes,” she whimpered.

She felt so good, so warm, so perfect. For several breathless moments they stayed glued together, just her wrapped around his cock. She moved ever so slightly, grinding herself into him, just like she had when her tights were still on. He felt so fucking good. So thick, so warm, so everything. It was so good. It was so nice and hot having him this deep inside her in the tiny little space.

Then he moved her. His hands on her hips, moving her against him, helping her find a rhythm that was comfortable in the small space. If they were at home, they’d have so much more room to stretch out, unencumbered by their half-worn clothes. All he wanted was to fuck her as well as he could when they were at home.

Harry couldn’t believe they ever argued so much before they started dating. They were the perfect match. Everything about them together was electric.

If the tow truck never came, the heat of this moment was going to melt all the snow away from their car so they could get out again. He moved her blanket and his jacket to her empty seat. He shifted again, helping wedge herself against him. Her feet pressed into the seat right beside his thighs. Her skirt bunched up around her waist and her butt was probably exposed and close to touching the steering wheel, but it didn’t matter.

They held that position for what could have been an hour or maybe one minute. It was so wet, so warm, the heat of their breath and all their most sensitive skin rubbing together could have been a fire hazard.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s so fucking good, kitten.”

Harry made her feel full without thrusting. Add in the fact he was helping her move up and down rhythmically on his pretty cock was an entirely different thing. She felt so fucking hot. The car had to be a hundred degrees. Anyone that stopped or slowed near them would know instantly. Her car would smell like sex and as much as she wanted to be embarrassed by the fact, it was outweighed wanting to keep Harry warm and make them both feel good.

He kept his eyes on hers, making her stomach somersault while he steadily thrusted up each time she sank down. Her thigh muscles burned, but it was worth it. This was so worth the pain. “Touch yourself, baby,” he ordered.

She couldn’t ignore him. Shyly, she pressed her fingertips to her clit matching the pace of their thrusts. Harry removed one hand from guiding her hips to the front of her jacket, slipped it beneath her blouse and up to the cup of her bra. Lightly he pinched her nipple, flicking his finger over the tip of it, making it hard and pebbled from the cold.  Her other hand rested on his shoulder for support. “Fuck kitten, y’feel so fucking good. All of you feels so fucking good. I love being inside of you.”

“Harry,” she whimpered. Her fingers didn’t slow on her clit.

“I know, baby. I know. Fuck,” he hissed.

“Harry,” she cried again. “I can’t—”

“Just another minute, kitten. Please,” he begged. “Just one more minute and you can come all over me. Just want to fuck you for another minute.”

“Harry,” she panted. “It feels so good. I… I-I can’t—” Already knowing what she was thinking, he grabbed her hand, pulled it from her clit. It made her whimper again. “No,” she felt her whole resolve crumble in his hands. “That’s mean,” she whispered her voice catching like she would cry. “Harry,” she whined.

“Shh, just one second,” he thrusted harder, deeper, making her cry out again. He pinched her nipple, rubbed her hip, rested her forehead against his. Their mouths brushed slightly as she breathed heavily into him. “Y’feel so good, baby.”

“Harry, please,” she begged.

He dropped his thumb to press on her clit. One perfect circle, then two, and on the third she exploded with a moan. “Right there, right there, right there,” she cried and ground against him. Her walls fluttered tightly around his cock. He imagined how nice it would be to be home so he could move her around in their bed. If he could rub her clit properly or use the vibrator that was always in reach to extend her orgasm for doing so well for him.

“So good, kitten, baby. Y’feel so fucking good,” he groaned. She was still clenching, her body more pliant as the pleasure slowly left her. Harry was holding her again, barely moving her up and down anymore, just so grateful she let him fuck her in the first place. “I love being inside you, kitten. So fucking much,” his voice was rough with pleasure. “M’gonna come, kitten,” he warned still thrusting hard inside her. “Fuck, kitten,” he grunted and pulled her tight down into him. She dropped her face to his neck, sighed with relief and Harry held her close for a few moments while his breathing slowed. He kissed the side of her head, and he glanced around to see the still steamy windows but covered with more snow.

He ran a hand up and down her back. “Hmm,” he kissed her temple and her ear. “That’s warmer, hmm?” He hummed.

“Yeah,” she sighed dreamily, pulled back to look at him. “You might need to unroll the window for a minute.”

He chuckled. “Might have to, anyway. S’all steamy,” he kissed her cheekbone. “Don’t want anyone that comes to save us t’know how good I make y’feel.”

She smiled. “It wasn’t that good,” she teased. “No?” He challenged. “I’ll keep that in mind, kitten. The second we get home, you’re mine.”

--

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