Harrison looks up, blinking a few times as he sees his mum beside him, a knowing smile on her face.

“It’s lovely,” he responds, chuckling as he digs his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “I think this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Phil smiles, reaching up to pat his shoulder. “This was all Y/N,” she says. “She organised this whole thing for you.”

Harrison lets his gaze wander across to you, as he’s done frequently all afternoon. You’d started out by his side, but eventually, Charlotte had convinced you to come and entertain their cousins with her, and you’d been strong-armed into making the rounds with her instead. He’d watched as you’d chatted away with his sister, the both of you laughing like best friends until Charlotte had pushed you down onto a picnic blanket with his niece and nephew, winked, and left you to deal with them yourself.

You’re still out there, half an hour later, playing around with a wooden toy plane, entertaining two toddlers who are looking at you like you’re the world. You make small noises, imitating the plane as you zoom it around, entertaining the kids. Harrison can hear their bubbling laughter from across the garden, and he swears he’s never felt so content in his life.

“She’s perfect,” he finds himself saying. He forces his eyes away from you, a stupid smile on his face.

“She’s good for you,” his mum replies. “I’ve never seen you happier, Harrison.” There’s a brief pause. “I think she’s the one.”

Harrison bites at his lower lip, trying not to smile too widely as he nods. “Come inside,” he mutters discreetly. “Let me show you something.” He leads his mum back into the house, and they stow away in the linen cupboard. Harrison digs through the towels for a moment before procuring a large beaten shoe box. He rummages through it and then procures a black velvet box. “I got it last week,” he admits, passing it to his mum. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

Harrison’s mum gasps, her fingers carefully opening the box and exposing the glistening engagement ring. “It’s beautiful, Harrison,” she coos. Harrison’s surprised to see tears in her eyes. “She’ll make such a lovely bride.”

He blushes, taking the box back. Before he hides it away again, he takes a moment to admire the ring again. He’d been so nervous all day, dragging Tom into jeweller after jeweller. Neither of them knew the first thing about engagement rings, but the moment Harrison had seen this one, he'd known it would be perfect wrapped around your finger. He grins to himself as he pushes it to the back of the cupboard.

“I just hope she says yes,” he admits, scratching at the back of his neck as he walks out from the cupboard, his mum trailing behind. “I don’t know what I’d do if-”

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Suddenly you’re in front of him, eyes wide with curiosity. Your gaze flickers out between Harrison and his mother. “What are you both doing in there?” You ask.

Harrison’s mum gives you a kind smile. “Just having a discussion,” she says. She presses her hand to your shoulder as she moves past you, adding, “Wonderful party, love. You did a great job.”

You mutter out a few words of thanks before returning your attention to Harrison, the two of you left alone in the hallway. “You’ve been acting quite suspiciously this week, Haz,” you point out, crossing your arms across your chest. “What’s going on?”

Harrison moves forward, his hands finding an easy hold on your waist as he kisses you softly, letting his lips linger against yours for a moment. You sink into him, the confusion on your face melting away as you wrap your arms around him.

“I love you,” he says, a whisper against your lips. “Thank you for everything you do for me.”

You let your hands move up to his curls. A light chuckle falls past your perfect lips, and Harrison swears it’s the most angelic noise he’s ever heard.

warnings: nsfw, obviously! a brief discussion of past bad lovers, unprotected sex (please wrap before you tap - condoms are an important barrier against STIs as well as unplanned pregnancy)

---

“Why’d you always do that?”

Harrison’s beneath you, his arms wrapped around your bare waist, holding you flush against him as you ride him eagerly. On his face is a bemused expression, painted by his ruffled brows and the small pout on his lips.

“Do what?” You pant, your mind not entirely there. You’ve got him buried in you up to the hilt, and it feels incredible.

“You hold back your moans.” His voice is grounding, and it slams you back to earth. You stop your movements, biting your lip as his tip brushes up against your g-spot. “See! You just did it again.” He’s not speaking accusingly - instead, it’s with concern that your boyfriend stares at you. He hesitates before leaning in to kiss you softly, a hand shifting up to cup your head. “Why don’t you let me hear you? Do I not… Do I not make you feel good enough?” When Harrison pulls back, you meet his eyes and see them full of insecurity.

“No, no, no.” You’re quick to dissuade this, bringing your own hand up to push the messy curls from his face. He’s flushed - a rosy pink blush spread out over his cheeks - with his eyes blown wide from lust. “You make me feel amazing, Haz.” Your eyes shift away, embarrassment heating your face as you shrug, struggling to wade through your thoughts as well as comprehend the fact that he’s nestled up deep inside you. “I guess, I’m just… Scared? My, uh, well, someone I was with once said that they didn’t like hearing me, and I guess I don’t want to annoy you.”

Harrison coaxes you back around, his thumb skimming over your lower lip. “Well, whoever said that is a dick,” he says, drawing a loose laugh from you. His eyes are soft, loving, and he presses his lips to your forehead. “You would never annoy me, darling. I love you.” His voice pulls a little darker. “And I’d love to hear you when I make you feel good.”

Slowly you nod your head. “Okay,” you agree. You kiss his cheek and then grind down against him, gasping. “You wanna switch?”

“Sure.” With ease, Harrison pushes you down onto the bed, his length slipping out of you. You whimper at the loss, but then he’s spreading your legs and sliding back inside, with one, slick thrust. You let yourself moan, and the action of the noise travelling up your throat feels amazing. “Fuck, love.” His face is above you, and you watch as his jaw flexes. “You sound absolutely divine.”

With his words at the forefront of your mind, you try to loosen up and properly enjoy yourself. Without having to worry about controlling your volume, you find the whole experience immensely more exciting. Your mind is free to spin off into dizzying depths, and all you need to concentrate on is how good it feels each time his pelvis slams against yours, his member exploring you, working you open. It’s as if every time you make a noise, it spurs Harrison on, and with the gyration of his hips coupled with his hand on your clit, it isn’t long until you’re on the verge.

“Oh my god,” you cry out, gripping at his back. The muscles flex to touch, and you enjoy scrabbling at them for purchase. “Shit, Haz, keep doing that, and I’m gonna-”

You can’t finish the sentence as you find yourself tipping into climax, the orgasm coming on suddenly. You whimper, tossing your head back as you moan and bask in the warming sensations that rock across your centre. Harrison continues to thrust into you, spilling as you’re ebbing away from your high, and you’re moaning at the slight overstimulation until he slows down. As he slips from inside you, you gasp softly, panting for breath as he flops down beside you. His lips press over your shoulder, and you gaze down at him adoringly.

“You’re amazing,” he tells you, “And I want to hear those sounds for the rest of my life.”

warnings: dom!haz, thigh fucking, general filth...?

---

You love riling Harrison up, love the way his jaw flexes when he gets really annoyed with you, the way his voice drops deeper. His entire demeanour changes when he gets like this - his blue eyes dark pools of glinting tension, his actions more forceful, more focused. It ignites a heat between your legs to see him like this, encourages you to take your teasing further, even when he warns you:

“If you keep that up, you’re not going to like what happens.”

The words he’d spoken half an hour churn through your brain, and each time you recall him speaking them, it only spurs you on. You’ve been acting a brat all day - clinging to him all morning, sticking to him like glue all afternoon, pouting and talking back at him whenever he’s questioned you. Harrison knows exactly what you want - recognises the lustful, floating light in your eyes, the way your voice is softer, higher. He knows you’re kicking off for attention, and he’s willing to oblige it - but on his own terms.

“Love.” Finally, he breaks. Harrison stands up from the sofa, effectively unsettling the hand that you’d had playing around on his knee. “Go to the bedroom. Get the lube.” He doesn’t look at you - not even a glance in your direction - and you know from that alone that you’re fucked.

When he walks into the bedroom a few minutes later, you’re ready for him. Standing in front of the bed, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. A crack of arousal spreads up your spine when he looks at you, icy blues digging deep into your soul. The warmth wets the front of your panties, and you let yourself admire him as you hold out the bottle of lube, smirking softly. Harrison looks good today - wrapped in a tight grey t-shirt and his jeans. You want him desperately.

“Take off your trousers,” Harrison says. When you hesitate, his gaze hardens. “Now, Y/N.” His own slender fingers slip down to his jeans, and there’s the telltale sound of metal unbuckling. “You’ve been a fucking brat, you know that, yeah?”

“Sorry,” you mutter. As instructed, you shed your trousers, still holding the bottle of lube in hand. You don’t like his demeanour tonight - Harrison is different. Usually, when you act up, he bends you over the nearest piece of furniture and takes care of you with his hand. You enjoy it - enjoy the feeling of his palm coming down over your ass, over and over. You enjoy it so much you always end up ruining his jeans, which is maybe why he’s taken a different approach. Maybe he actually wants to punish you, tonight.

“You aren’t sorry,” Harrison replies, chuckling at the end. He’s bare from the waist down, his hand wrapped easily around his cock. He leisurely gives himself a few pumps, humming slightly, and you can’t stop yourself from staring at the sight of his fingers, long and stocky, wrapped around his girth. His ring glints as he touches himself, and your desire to step forward and help him almost takes over. “Give me that,” he asks, nodding towards the lube, “And then turn around and face the wall, hands up against it.”

You move into the position, spreading your legs as you stand against the wall, hands up. You can’t see him, only hear him - hear the popping of the cap, the sound of the pump. Your heart’s beating almost painfully in your chest as Harrison approaches, lingering just behind you.

“Push down your panties, too. Not the whole way, though” Harrison asks, voice raspy near your ear. You do as he says, heart in the back of your throat, your body pulled tight with anticipation as you push your panties down. They stop at the bottom of your thighs, resting just above your knees, and he hums contentedly. “Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, hm? Good to know you can follow instructions when you want to.”

“What are you doing?” You ask, thoroughly perplexed. Harrison nips at your earlobe, and you gasp, enjoying the feeling of him standing so close.

“‘S might be a bit cold,” he mutters. You look down, and you watch as he brings a large palm, wet with lube, up to your thighs. You shuffle further apart as he coats your tender flesh in a copious amount of the fluid, wincing slightly at the cool sensations. “Good.” There are a few further kisses to your ear, then you watch as Harrison reaches out for a nearby towel and wipes off his palm. Both of his hands find home on your waist, holding your hips beneath your shirt, and then he slips his cock between your legs, grunting as he slowly starts to fuck your thighs. “I’m teaching you a lesson, darling.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t like it. Don’t like the sight of Harrison’s full cock, red and flushed, sliding between your thighs, don’t like the grunts of enjoyment that he’s depositing right into your ear. His grip on your hips is tight, and he uses you easily, pulling you back against him, denying you of any satisfaction as he gets himself off.

“I told you to stop,” he rasps, his voice thick. “Earlier, when you were being a brat, remember?” He waits until you hum in agreement. “Said you wouldn’t like what’d happen, didn’t I?” 

“But this is mean,” you whine. You can feel his ring, cool against your flesh, and the bite of it makes you throb. His cock presses up against your hot pussy lips, teasing you, never quite slipping up to touch where you need him the most. Your clit throbs sadly, neglected, and you can feel wetness forming at your entrance. “You’re not even going to touch me?”

Harrison’s back at your ear, his lips briefly pausing to kiss a bruising hickey against your skin. “I am touching you, darling. And you know what I’m going to do?” 

“What?” 

He’s sloppier now, his heavy pants ringing out across your ear. The grip Harrison has on you is tight, his cock sliding freely against your skin. You know he’s close, and that fact makes you whimper.

“I’m going to cum, all over your thighs, and your panties, and then you’re going to pull them back up and wear them for the rest of the evening.” He chuckles when you gasp, and you feel him nod his head, his blonde curls brushing at the side of your face. He’s thrusting quickly now, panting, urging himself nearer to a high. “This is a punishment, love.” Harrison kisses your neck. “You’re not supposed to enjoy it.”

And you really don’t enjoy it when he cums with a yell of your name, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he ruts against you. Your eyes watch his tip as his cock throbs, thick white ropes of his cum landing on your thighs, dripping down to your panties. Harrison watches as you begrudgingly pull up the material, makes you scoop up his cum and the rest of the mess and wipe it onto the fabric. He kisses you briefly, his lips cool against your own. 

warnings: rough sex, spanking, biting, scratching ?? it’s not rlly /that/ intense tho

--

Harrison’s got you pressed into the mattress, your face buried in the pillows as he takes you from behind. He’s got his hot fingers holding your hands together behind your back, his other palm burning into your side as he ruts into you harshly, fucking you on his cock as you whimper and writhe against the sheets.

“Y’like that, eh?” He mutters. When you only moan in response, his hand falls down over the curve of your bum in a harsh slap, causing you to clench around him. “Dirty little thing, aren’t you? I know you love it when I fuck you like this.”

Before you met Harrison, you were always reserved when it came to intimate moments. Your past lovers treated you like you were delicate - always with soft caresses and gentle touches - and though you like being held and cocooned and adored, once you started dating Harrison, you discovered a whole other side to you. He likes it rough - likes anchoring you down with his arms and his lips - and as it turns out, you like it too. You like it a lot.

The sound of his pelvis smashing against your core slows down, and you gasp for breath as he pulls you up. Your back presses flush against his chest as he sits you there, your chest rising and falling as you stay absolutely still, his length lodged deep inside you.

“Love it,” you say, your words falling together, “Love it so much, Haz.”

“‘Course you do, darling.” He’s turning you suddenly, your bodies temporary disconnecting as he pushes you back onto the mattress, this time with your back against the bed. He enters you again, the movement fluid and comfortable due to the slick that wets your thighs, and you mewl at the feeling. “I want you to be nice and loud for me, alright? Can you do that?” His hand caresses your inner thigh as he rocks into you slowly, drawing out the deep movement.

“Yes,” you mumble, gripping at his back. “Fuck me, Haz, please. Need it hard.”

He doesn’t hold back. With a hungry fervour in his glistening blue eyes, Harrison’s quick to comply with your wishes. You find yourself grabbing at his back, pulling him closer as he holds your hips and pounds into you. The noises of your bodies coming together, over and over and over again flood the bedroom, coupled with your pants and his groans. It’s messy and intense, and he bites over your shoulders as you cling to him, your nails digging into the skin of his back.

“Shit, ‘feel so fucking amazing wrapped around me,” he mutters, straight into your ear, “So tight and snug for me, aren’t you?” Harrison tilts his mouth to yours and kisses you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth. One of your hands snakes down to fiddle with your clit as the other scratches over his back, your skin hot and sweaty as he absolutely rails you.

You pull away from his lips to gasp out a shaky, “Shit, shit, Haz, keep doing that,” as he adjusts the angle and the curved head of his cock strokes up against your g-spot. You quiver, clinging to him with shaky fingers as your hand rubs furiously over your clit.

“Hm? Is my baby going to come for me?” He coos. His hand pushes up one of your thighs, opening you up a little wider, and it makes your head snap back, arcs of pleasure on the verge of releasing. “Let go, love. I want to feel you coming for me.”

You climax with a yelp, your hand running over his back as your entire body erupts with a hot, persistent pleasure that takes your breath away. Harrison slams into you continuously, and the pulsing of your inner walls around him draws his own climax from him. Your sweaty hands hold him close as he peaks with you, your sweaty bodies twisting together.

“Shit,” you mumble, panting for breath when he slips from inside you. You give him a large, lazy grin as you fold your legs together and stretch out your arms. “That was so good.”

Harrison leans up to peck your lips, a warm grin on his face. He looks fucked - his blond hair all sweaty and his curls falling across his forehead, but he radiates a content glow. “I love you,” he says, kissing you again for good measure. “I’m going to take care of this,” he says, gesturing to the condom, “Do you want some water?” He stands up slowly.

“Yeah, y- oh my god, did I do that?!” Your voice twists upwards in horror as your eyes settle over Harrison’s broad back, drinking in the sight of some very large, red scratch marks stretched across his pale skin.

Your boyfriend turns around quickly, quirking an eyebrow. “Do what?”

You beckon him back, and he carefully approaches the bed again. “Sit down,” you ask. You shift across the mattress, opening up space beside you for him to rest. Upon further inspection, you can tell that it was, in fact, you who marked him up. When you press a few tender fingertips to his back, he hisses, and immediately you feel awful. “I’m so sorry,” you start, your eyes wide and your heart racing in your chest. “Haz, fuck, I didn’t even realise-”

“Shh.” He twists around, taking your hands in his as he looks at you earnestly, those big blue eyes full of warmth. He kisses your knuckles slowly, padding his thumbs over them afterwards. “It doesn’t hurt,” he tells you. His lips quirk into a smirk. “In fact, I quite like them. I like it when you mark me up, makes me feel like I’m yours.”

You swallow deeply, his words sending a throb of excitement through your sensitive core. “You do?”

Harrison nods, and he leans nearer to kiss you softly. “Yes, love,” he whispers against your lips. “Feel free to do it as much as you want.”

It’s not like you’d intended to develop these feelings for Harrison, it had just sort of... happened.

When your now-roommate had responded to the ad you’d put up on Facebook, you’d thought he was a little bit too good to be true. Harrison had turned up to the showing in a designer coat and he’d laid the charm on thick - and before you’d really had time to think about it, you’d ended the encounter by inviting him to live with you. He was moved in by the end of the week, and every day since has been an adventure.

You get on well. Very well, in fact. You’d go as far to classify him as one of your best friends, which is an issue now, because somewhere between signing the lease and today, you’ve managed to develop this absorbing, fervent lust for him, and now you can’t seem to be able to stop looking at his fucking hands.

There’s a lot of things to admire about Harrison, but his hands are your greatest weakness. Whether they’re wrapped around a glass, or drumming over the kitchen table, or passing you the salt shaker, your eyes are just... drawn there. His fingers are so long and stocky, and your stolen glimpses send your mind swirling down the gutter. You imagine watching the veins flex as his fingers travel all over you, grabbing at you, pulling you close, stroking against your inner walls-- and it’s utterly seductive, and completely consuming.

And as if the strong lines of his hands aren’t enough, his ring is a source of your suffering, too. The silver metal glints beneath the lights in the kitchen, and it always garners your undivided attention, because it’s very easy to imagine what it’d look like pressing up against your cunt, the cool metal burning against your hot hole.

You think you’re very inconspicuous about it. Harrison doesn’t seem to notice your fixation on his hands, or how you sometimes swallow particularly harshly every time he runs his fingers through his hair, but maybe you were too distracted by his movements to ever realise that - whilst you were watching his hands - Harrison was watching your face, and observing your eyes clouding over with lust every time he articulated something with his hands.

So he teases you a little bit, just because he can, and he enjoys making you squirm because he wants to see how far he can take it before you snap.

He goes all out. Letting his hands rest on the small of your back, his fingers rubbing small circles over the tender skin when your hoodie rides up. He makes a very conscious effort to keep pulling at his hair whenever you’re around just so you get the full view of his knuckles curving and his muscles clenching, and his fingers tousling up his strands. When he realises you have a thing for accessories, he starts stacking more layers of rings all across his stocky fingers, and he starts religiously wearing his watch around the flat because he knows just how much you love seeing the rich leather strap wrapped around his wrist.

It all finally escalates when you’re cooking together, and you get a spot of sauce on your chin, and you ask him, very nicely, to get it off for you.

“You’re so messy, Y/N,” he mumbles. Harrison draws his hand to your face, and he bites at his lower lip as he sees the way you’re watching him move. He draws his fingers over your chin and swipes away the bead of rich tomato sauce with his thumb, but instead of pulling away, he brings the pad of your thumb up and presses it over your lips. Your eyes darken and you part your lips, and he slips his finger into your mouth easily.

A small, trembling whine passes up your throat, and you suck around his finger eagerly. It feels heavy on your tongue, and Harrison presses it further into your mouth as you reach up and grab at his waist, your cooking forgotten as your mind clouds over.

“I know you like my hands, darling,” Harrison finally dares to say. The way you’re looking at him - all distracted, and aroused, with those large dark eyes confirms it. “I see you, when you’re staring at my fingers all the time.” You hum quietly, and you’d feel embarrassed if he wasn’t staring at you like he’s ravenous. “Do you want me to show you what they can do?”

With a desperate jerk of your head, Harrison dips his other hand down. Luckily for you, you’re wearing a short floaty skirt, so he’s able to keep his thumb resting in your mouth as his other hand slips up to cup your crotch. You whimper, the sound coming out muffled against his thumb, and Harrison swaps it out for his index and middle fingers instead, stretching your mouth out as you buck your hips down against his other hand.

“So wet for me already,” he whispers. He leans nearer to press a warm kiss to your cheek, his lips finding your ear a moment later as he adds, “Can’t wait to feel you around m’fingers, love.” He finally lets his digits slip beneath the waistband of your panties, and he gathers up the slick from your entrance before bringing it up to massage over your clit. As your eyes flutter shut, his tongue flicks out across your earlobe. “Keep your eyes on me, love. Want to watch your face as I fuck you, with my fingers in your mouth.”

You watch Harrison intently, enjoying the sight of his focused features as he alternates between rubbing over your clit and sliding his long, stocky digits into you. He stretches you out, and it’s delicious, and the fact that he’s got his other hand hanging from your mouth makes it even better. You suck on his digits as you moan, every inch of you crawling with heady desire as you start to grind down against his hand, your breathing hitching. With each long thrust of his fingers into you, the palm of his warm hand fucks up against your clit and it draws you close.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He murmurs, his blue eyes dancing darkly. Your lips are messy with spit and you struggle to keep his fingers in your mouth as your loud, building moans that threaten to spill out. “Pussy’s so hot and wet for me. Makes me wonder what it’d feel like to fuck you.” Harrison angles his fingers just right, and you find yourself reaching up and curling your fingers around his t-shirt, just so you have something to clench around as he rocks you to the edge. “G’nna cum for me, love? Let me feel you. Go on.”

His fingers slip from your mouth, and the kitchen fills with the sounds of your enjoyment as you release. His lips travel up and down your neck, kissing you, sucking your skin, drawing out your climax as you whimper and pulse for him, his fingers filling you to the knuckles as his thumb nudges against your clit over and over again. It’s electric - and after waiting so many months to feel his hands working you over, it feels incredible.

“Shit, Haz,” you stammer out, as he moves his hand away from your cunt. You watch as he finds your eyes and he enjoys bringing his digits up to his mouth and licking off your release, his pink tongue lapping up your juices eagerly. “Holy fuck...”

Harrison smirks. “Enjoy that?” He asks, and you nod immediately.

“Your hands are incredible.”

He moves in nearer, and you bite your lip as you find yourself on the receiving end of one of his intense, lusting stares. “They’re not the only part of me I think you’d enjoy feeling.”

You chuckle lightly and run your hands over the front of his shirt. “Oh, really?” You ask, glancing down to take note of his bulge. “Best show me what I’ve been missing out on, then.”

He’d dragged you out clubbing with his housemates, promising he’d pay you back by getting you takeaway. You’d put up a hard front, but you’d have crumbled eventually regardless of what he’d offered you - you’ve always had a weak spot for Harrison. The drinks had started flowing and you’d been having a great time, but then Harrison had been approached by a girl - a very, very pretty girl - and he’d walked off. 

Alone and tipsy, you’d decided the best way to soothe your aching heart was by finding your way into the arms of a stranger. It hadn’t been hard to find someone, and you’d lost yourself in the music and the drinks and the dancing. You’d kissed them, kissed them hard, and recklessly, and pictured Harrison’s face there instead, only to open your eyes and look across the club to see him there, Harrison, staring at you with heartbreak in his eyes. 

Heart in your throat, you’d run. Run all the way outside, to where you are now, pacing, trying to piece together the shards of your aching heart. 

“Y/N.” 

You startle, clutching at your chest as you turn around to see Harrison striding towards you, making quick work of the distance with those long legs of his. He looks good tonight, in a black and white striped shirt and a pair of black jeans. There’s a rosy flush to his face and his eyes are wide with concern.

“Hi,” you say, feeling a little bashful. Your friend stops only when he’s in front of you, his heavy hands falling to your shoulders.

“Why did you run off? Are you okay?” Harrison asks, voice a low rasp. His eyes bore into your soul, and he shifts a hand to your face. “Why are you crying, love?” His fingers brush beneath your eyes, wiping away the juicy tears. 

His kindness and his compassion for you only makes your state worse, and you start sobbing again.

“Sorry,” you whine, embarrassed as you hide your head in his chest. Harrison wraps you in his arms, shushing you gently as he runs his hands all over your back.

“It’s okay,” he says, voice soft. He holds you close until you stop shaking, whispering quiet affirmations. “You can talk to me, Y/N. About anything.”

Maybe it’s the chill in the wind or the fact that you’ve got your face buried out of sight, but you find yourself feeling emboldened.

“Harrison, I… I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

There’s a very long pause, and you spend it with your face screwed up in a wince as you immediately begin to berate yourself for parting with those very personal feelings. Your mind spins off, thinking about how much you value your friendship, how much you care and love Harrison, and how much you’d hate it if this admission changes all of that. You’re about to snap and take it back when you feel him gently coax you from his chest.

“Y/N,” Harrison murmurs. His fingers pick up your chin, and he gently forces you to look at him. His eyes are so blue beneath the night’s sky. “Why would you do that, when you could just be kissing me instead?”

You look at him, eyes widening as his words sink in. “You… But you don’t…”

“I do.” An easy smile breaks across Harrison’s face, and you release a deep breath. “Love, I- I’ve fancied you for years. Just never thought that you’d want me like that.”

“Of course I want you like that,” you exclaim. “I love you.”

Harrison cups your cheeks in his hands, his ring feeling cool against your skin. “I love you too.”

There’s chilly condensation flurrying in the air as you lean forward and kiss him, deeply. The feeling of finally knocking lips with your best friend after so many years of pining and yearning is unlike no other, and you twist your hands into his hair as you hold him as close to you as possible. You can feel him smiling against you, his mouth warm as he kisses you, over and over again, stealing the air from your lungs until you’re panting.

“You’re a good kisser, Harrison,” you murmur, hardly able to get the words out through the giant smile on your lips.

Harrison’s sitting at the kitchen table, grumbling away to himself as he cards his fingers through his hair for the fifth time in a minute. A pair of clear-framed glasses sit on his face, slipping down his nose as he groans and buries his head in his hands, distant curses drifting through the air.

“Haz,” you call out, from where you’re sitting over on the sofa. “I really think you need to take a break.”

Your boyfriend makes a non-committal sound, and then you hear him typing again. You roll your eyes, sighing to yourself.

“I’m serious,” you add. “You’re going to stress yourself out.”

He’s been at it for hours, looking over contracts and sorting out the details for a trip away next week. As the minutes have stretched from morning to evening, you’ve watched him slowly grow more frazzled, and you really can’t take it any longer.

“If I stop, I’ll be more stressed,” he eventually replies. Still, he doesn’t look away from the screen, despite the fact that you’re draped out across the sofa, trying to get his attention. 

A pout finds your lips, but then you get an idea. 

“You will take a break,” you say, muttering to yourself. With hardened resolve, you stand from the sofa, eyes on Harrison. He looks cute today, even stressed, with his eyes wild and focused. He’s wrapped in a loose cable-knit sweater, the cream colour complimenting the dark ruffles of his hair. You want to walk over and wrap your arms around him - kiss him, hug him, love him - but you know him. You know that the only way to drag Harrison away from his work is to distract him in one, very specific way.

Keeping an eye on your unresponsive boyfriend, you reach down and pull off your hoodie, leaving you standing in a revealing tank-top and shorts. Your nipples stand out against the fabric, acclimatising to the cool air, and you roll your neck as you slowly begin to pad over to him. Harrison makes no sign to show that he’s seen you, too wrapped up in his work, and so you do as you desire - walking around the back of the chair, settling beside him. Your hands fall to his shoulders as you lean in, kissing his cheek softly.

“C’mon, champ,” you murmur, whispering into his ear. “Take a break.”

Your lips go for a little walk, trailing up and down the column of Harrison's neck, kissing his pale skin softly. You mouth at the tender point behind his jaw and he moans, the sound a rippling vibration that feels like music to your ears.

“Y/N,” he mutters, eyes temporarily veering away from the laptop. “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

You smirk against his neck, sucking a very light pink kiss to his skin. “Wanna see what I’m wearing under all this?” You reply, rubbing your chest to his back. You kiss his cheek again, and then reach up for his laptop, shutting it before he can get in another word. “No more, Haz,” you beg. “Focus on something else. Destress.”

“Destress,” he echoes. Harrison’s eyes flicker to the laptop, and he reaches down to push it aside, shoving his notebooks with it. “Good idea, love.” He stands up slowly, and your hands fall from his shoulders as he rolls out his arms, groaning softly. Harrison looks at you, then the table, and then smirks. “Hmm, you know what I’m thinking?”

“What?”

Harrison reaches out for your waist, hungrily fixing his hands to your hips as he gently pushes you down to sit on the table. You kick up, widening your legs until he’s able to slot between them, both of his hands going to hold your face as he kisses you forcefully, fingertips dipping into your hair.

“I think I’m going to work out my stress right here,” he murmurs, eyes glinting darkly. He shifts closer, leaning over you until you can feel the outline of his bulge pressing against you. “I think I’ll take you on this table, right here.” Harrison rolls his hips to yours, and you whine as you feel his length against your crotch. “Needy for me, aren’t you? Are you going to help me out?”

You nod your head, your eyes wide. “Feel free to use me however you’d like, Haz.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

You glance to the side, managing a hard smile as you see your friend Harry there. Concern drifts through his stare as he nudges your shoulder.

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice chipping around the word.

“Liar.” Harry settles beside you, his eyes following the line of your gaze until he sees the offending figures of Harrison and his co-star, huddled up in the corner. “Ahh. I see.”

“What do you mean, you see?” You respond, gulping. You tear your eyes away from the heartbreaking scene playing out across the room to glare at him. When Harry wiggles his eyebrows at you, you scoff and down the rest of your drink.

“I know you think you’re very discreet, Y/N, but I’m not an idiot. And neither is Harrison.”

Your eyes round out with fear as your jaw loosens, a sudden feeling of dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. Harrison doesn’t know, does he? You’ve always been so careful, so intent on keeping your budding feelings under wraps so he didn’t find out and get all... weird about it. Because Harrison is your best friend, above everything else, and you would never do anything to jeopardise your relationship with him.

“What do you mean, neither is Harrison?”

Harry shrugs, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite trace. “I’m just saying, if the two of you actually talked to one another, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here looking like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

“I do not look like that,” you bite back. Your eyes shift back to Harrison, and you see he’s now moved a little further away from his co-star. The sight makes you relax. “Did you see the paparazzi shots, though? She was wearing his jacket.” You always used to be the one who got to wear Harrison’s jacket. “You can’t tell me that there isn’t something there.”

Harry just shrugs, and lands a chipper hand over your back. “I won’t pretend I know what his feelings are, but I do suggest that you buck up and just come out with it. And if not, at least try to look like you’re having fun, alright?”

You manage a weak smile. “Fine.”

The hours slip by, wasted away in the shitty West London club with sticky floors. You do everything in your power to avoid bumping into Harrison, which is dumb because he’s your best friend, but it hurts to look at him now. You spend a while fighting with your mind - analysing every single word you’ve said to him over the last month, regretting desperately that you hadn’t told him the second you felt something romantic for him, because now it appears it’s too late, and no matter what Harry says, you’re almost certain that Harrison feels something for his co-star. He’s by her side all night.

It’s not the best coping mechanism, but you decide to down a line of shots and dance the night away. 3am comes and you’re still going strong, despite the rest of the cast slowly peeling off and calling it a night. But you know that all that awaits you at home - in your flat, which you share with Harrison, of course - is loneliness and your thoughts, and you really don’t want to confront those, so more shots is your magical solution.

“Y/N, where have you been all night, I haven’t seen you?”

One moment you’re spinning around with Harry, the next Harrison’s face is drawing into focus. You grin lazily as your eyes take in his sweaty blond curls and his bloodshot eyes, but you frown as you see he’s staring at you with concern embedded over his beautiful, flushed face.

“Eh? I’ve been right here,” you shout out, voice barely cutting across the music. You giggle as someone bumps into your back, and your hands go out to land on Harrison’s shoulders. His fingers move up to hold your waist securely, and you stumble further into his arms. “You’re so warm, Haz, y’know that?” Your face presses into his shoulder as your hands trail along his biceps. “And strong. Have you been going to the gym?”

Harrison laughs heartily, and the sound is like music to your tipsy ears. He hugs you closer, and it makes your heart pang in your chest.

“Thanks, love,” he says, and you can hear the confusion in his voice, but instead you focus on the way he’s gently passing his hands over your back. When he speaks next, it’s directed to Harry, “How much has she had?”

Harry throws out a number that sounds remarkably too high, but you’re too content clinging onto Harrison to really care to correct him.

“Y/N. Hey, look at me.” Harrison’s back, his lips at your ear, and reluctantly you let him pull you out of his shoulder. “We’re gonna go home now, yeah? You’re sloshed.”

“But it’s gonna be cold outside,” you complain, eyebrows furrowing as you stare into his icy blue eyes. His gaze fills with mirth, and you bat at his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, Harrison. I’m gonna get cold.”

“Then you can use my jacket.”

Your grin sours immediately. “Ha,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You step back, Harrison’s touch falling away from you completely. “I thought you’d already given your jacket away.”

His face is the picture of confusion, but Harrison reaches out for you anyway and winds his arm around yours. “It’s checked in the cloakroom?” He says, gently guiding you towards the exit of the club.

“No, no, not that one.” You don’t even know if he can hear you, over the noise of the club, but that thought comforts you. “I’ve seen the photos, Haz. I know you gave your other one away.”

You’re in the cloakroom now, and you’re the only ones milling around. Harrison sits you down on the bench in the middle as he begins to trail through the line of fluffy jackets, his gaze continuously being pulled back to you.

“Those photos are bullshit,” he mutters. “The media see one thing and take it completely out of context.”

“But you let her wear your jacket. That means something.”

“Does it?” Harrison turns his head to you, a small grin widening over his face. “I let you wear my jacket. Hell, Y/N, I let you keep my jackets, and my hoodies. Your wardrobe is full of my shirts. What does that mean, eh?”

Suddenly you become very interested in playing with your fingers. “So… You don’t like her?”

“Not romantically.”

You breathe out a large sigh of relief. “Okay.”

Harrison pulls you up from the bench carefully, and he wraps you up in his oversized jacket. You snuggle into the sleeves, and he stays standing in front of you, his warm hands travelling to your face. You freeze under the touch, your lips parting as you take in the way he’s looking at you so intently it feels like he’s drawing your heart up your throat.

“If you weren’t so hammered right now…” He starts, but he trails off with a sigh, and bites his lower lip.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harrison moves one of his hands away from your face and tidies up a few strands of your unruly hair. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“What were you going to do?”

He’s looking at you softly, and he tilts his head to the side. “I was going to tell you something. A secret.”

“Tell me now,” you whine. He looks so pensive and reluctant, but beneath that, there’s something like adoration floating around his eyes. With a smile flickering out across your lips, you lean in nearer and add, “I promise I won’t remember in the morning.”

And Harrison sighs, but you know from the way his eyes deflate that you’ve worn him down. He links his hands with yours and says slowly,

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. The only person I want to be with is you.”