#harry concept

“I… mi-missed m’bus,” Y/N said, wheezed out actually, given the short sprint she’d just done, her cheeks pink from both the run and the colder snap that had seemed to settle over the city over the last few days. 

“Y’always run like that?” he said, tilting his head.

“Like what?”

“Like someone’s chasing you… or maybe you’re chasing something.”

She laughed despite herself. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

He nodded seriously. “Fairs. M’Harry, by the way, you?” Sticking out his free hand that had been holding onto his backpack strap on his shoulder.

“Y/N.” She smiled, breathing now regulated enough for her to notice her pulse quicken ever so slightly again when she put her hand in his to shake. 

The next bus due pulled in, and they climbed aboard, Harry ushering her on in front of him as she tapped on with her phone while Harry pulled out an Oyster card wallet that looked a bit worse for wear. Maybe it was meant to be that she missed her planned bus because the upper deck was as good as empty, and she’d never have gotten a seat if she’d made the bus she had wanted to.

“So, Y/N,” Harry said, settling into the two seats across the aisle opposite her, “what’s a bright girl like you doing running around in the cold with no decent jacket?”

“Hey, it was quite nice when I left this morning, sue me for not looking at the weather app,” she laughed. “Plus, I didn’t know when I would leave the office, assumed the sun might’ve still been out at least but as it happens, I’m tragically shit at getting myself out the office in time for the bus I plan to catch apparently.” 

“Hm, what’s it y’do?” Harry asked. “What’s worth nearly missing the bus over?” he teased.

“PR,” she said brightly. “Campaigns, launches, press events — all that. I love it, actually. Shaping how people see things. Taking the company and making it shine.”

Harry grinned. “Sounds powerful.”

Y/N snorted a laugh, “try stressful,” she admitted, but still smiling. “I want to go far with it. Big clients, international campaigns, the works.”

“And here I thought I was ambitious building a wardrobe that doesn’t fall apart,” he teased.

Y/N tilted her head, “Wardrobes? What do you get up to?”

“Joiner,” he said simply. “Well, mostly joinery, do a bit of everything that needs done. A lot of bespoke stuff. Kitchens, wardrobes, staircases. Sometimes a bar counter if the pub pays right. I make things with my hands. Feels honest, you know? M’working on a site for a full office building refit just now, s’why I’m around here for the foreseeable, all these big office buildings aren’t my usual locale unless I get jobs like these” he laughed

“You sound like you love it,” Y/N said with a smile. 

“I do,” Harry said, with a quiet pride. “There’s something about seeing a pile of wood and turning it into something solid. Something people live with every day. I like leaving something behind,” he said with a shrug.

Y/N nodded, impressed. “That’s… actually kind of amazing.”

“Like I say, m’not sure kitchens are all that,” with a chuckle

She laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it. You’re literally building people’s lives around them. That’s more than I can say some days.”

“Not sure wardrobes change the world,” Harry said.

“I don’t think press releases do either,” Y/N shot back, then added, softer, “But they could.”

He looked at her, really looked. “I like that you believe that.”

***

Over the next few weeks, they ran into each other on the bus often. Harry was always perched in the bus shelter by the time Y/N made it there, always with a bit of what’d he’d been working on that day evident on his clothing, chips of wood, flecks of paint, something that looked a bit oily at times, tired but smiling. Always smiling. He had a gorgeous smile. He made her laugh in ways no one at work did. Most days her laughs with him were the first time she’d laughed all day. He asked questions and remembered answers. He noticed things when she was tired, when she was restless, when she’d had a good day, a productive day, when her work bag was heavier with the amount of extra she was taking home to do.

One Friday, as she slumped onto the bus shelter bench, Harry asked, “Fancy a pint and a sit down somewhere? Properly. Not just the front seats of our number 36 chariot.”

Y/N hesitated. “I’m not sure… it’s just I’ve got a lot of extra work to do-” her work bag was heavier today he’d noticed. 

“You’ll come,” he said, cutting her off with certainty, that smile unwavering. “Or maybe we’ll just wait here in the bus shelter till you realise you want and need to.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, because he was right, she probably did need it. “Okay, let’s go.”

***

Their first proper date, not a pint from the bar near the bus stop, was at a pub in Islington. Sticky tables, football on the TV, the warming smell of fresh chips in the air. Harry made her laugh until her stomach hurt.

“Y’always talk this fast?” he asked when she leaned forward mid-laugh.

“Hm, only when I’m nervous,” she admitted.

“Y’nervous?” He quirked an eyebrow, the beginnings of a little smile twitching at the corner of his lips

“Maybe a little.”

He smiled, properly. “Y’don’t need to be. M’not going anywhere.”

She watched him, noticing the roughness of his hands, the warmth of his eyes. “You really mean that?”

“I do,” he said. “I like… this. You.”

Harry doesn’t tell her but sometimes he was at that bus stop early enough to make the bus that came twice before their usual one, but he’d let them drive past as he waited on her. Maybe he’d tell her that later. 

***

Weeks later, when the lingering chill from winter had gone, the sun was settling higher in the sky and the trees were coated with green again. In Regent’s Park, Harry had spread out a blanket, sandwiches from the corner shop, strawberries, and a bottle of cheap prosecco and two plastic cups.

“Y’ever think about the future?” he asked, leaning back on his elbows, his legs out in front of him, crossed over at the ankle. 

“All the time,” Y/N said, in a way that made it seem like that was true, that the future was in every waking thought. “Why?” As she bit into a strawberry and the juice dribbled down her lip onto her chin.

“Us.” He specified, reaching up to wipe away the strawberry juice with his thumb before licking it into his own mouth. “I dunno. A flat, maybe a dog. Me running m’own workshop. You still smashing it at work. Doesn’t have to be fancy. Just… us.”

Y/N smiled, touched. “That sounds perfect.”

“Y’know,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, “Jus’ can’t imagine it any other way. You’re… m’favourite.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. “I think you’re mine, too.”

Later, much later, in the quiet of the night in her flat, they were slow and unhurried. Harry traced circles on her skin, pressed soft kisses, lingering at her hairline, along her jaw and down. Their connection deepened, intimate, warm, close. He had compared her to the sun, shining, his centre. By the time they were fully involved, their nights together carried a tenderness that left her breathless in more ways than one.

*** 

The first time James asked Y/N out, she had said no.

It was a Thursday, the office buzzing with leftover energy from sealing a lucrative deal with a client. Y/N was at her desk, eyes bleary from scrolling through the press release she’d been working on, when James, a newer manager, although not her manager, leaned over the partition.

“Y/N, isn’t it?” she jumped in her seat at the intrusion. “Fancy grabbing a drink tonight? Just a little celebration for the team, just a few of us.” 

His smile was quick, confident, the sort of smile that always got him what he wanted. His teeth looked professionally whitened but not in a false way. Y/N hesitated, picturing Harry waiting outside her flat with a takeaway curry, their Thursday routine. His text earlier had given her a bubble of excitement to see him later: Outside yours at seven. It’s curry Thursday! Can’t wait to see you xo 

Emily, her colleague who sat in the desk opposite was already nodding, and she was sure if she turned to her left Corrine would be practically vibrating in her seat with excitement for her friend. 

“Go on, Y/N,” Emily urged quietly. “You can’t turn down James, come with us.”

But she did, “No, m’sorry James, I have plans with my… well m’just busy tonight, maybe another time, yeah?” Y/N said with a kind smile. 

“I’m going to hold you to that,” James said with a wink before he sauntered off, not a single chink or dent in his armour.

“Y/N!” Emily kicked her in the shin when James had left, “what are you doing? He well fancies you!” Y/N just shrugged and began finalising all her work before she could head home to Harry. 

***

Harry was already waiting when she reached her flat, standing under the streetlight, perched on the wall, with a plastic bag clutched in one hand, his work bag at his feet and his phone in his spare hand doing a mindless scroll while he waited.

“There she is,” he said, his grin breaking wide the moment he saw her as he looked up, pocketing his phone. “I was starting to think you’d stood me up for the korma.” He slung is backpack back over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around her shoulder for a quick squeeze and kiss to the temple.

Y/N laughed, unlocking the door. “As if I’d miss curry night. What did you get?” as they made their way up to Y/N’s flat and she let them in.  

“Chicken Bhuna for me, butter chicken for you.” Harry began unloading the dishes onto the kitchen counter as Y/N grabbed them two plates and cutlery. “Two pilau, one garlic naan, one plain. And—” He held up a foil container like it was treasure. “Onion bhajis. Don’t say I don’t know you.” He checked her with his hip as he began peeling the lids from the rice to spill on their plates.

Her chest warmed. “You do know me,” she said, softer than she meant to.

They settled cross-legged on the sofa; containers and plates spread across the coffee table. Harry tore the naan, handing her the bigger piece.

“Long day?” he asked, watching her relax into the cushions.

“Always,” Y/N admitted. “Meetings, reports, we got that deal though, which just meant I had to shelf everything else to do the press release for that.”

Harry chuckled. “Y’my little busy bee, aren’t you?”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “And you? Sawdust all day?”

“Yeah. Built new set of stairs for fuck off house in Notting Hill. You’d be surprised how much trust people put in a bloke with a tape measure and a drill.”

“I’d trust you,” she said without thinking, using a piece of naan bread to scoop up some of her curry.

He glanced at her, eyes catching hers before he looked down again, breaking a bhaji in half. “That’s good enough f’me.”

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence, the soft hum of the city outside and Eastenders playing on the telly, they swear up and down they don’t watch TV soaps but they could both tell you exactly who was who and who was fighting with who and for what. Y/N’s phone buzzed on the table, a message from the girls about her ditching the afterwork drinks she’s sure, but she turned it face down without checking. Harry noticed, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he leaned back, stretching his legs out so they brushed against hers.

“Best night of the week, this,” he said simply.

Y/N felt something in her chest shift, fragile and certain all at once. She did believe him, this could be enough, but the thought of her friends and James lingered in the back of her head. 

***

The second time James asked her out, she’d said yes. Only because Harry had called her on her lunch break saying the job he was working on has went cataclysmically wrong and he was staying on tonight to try and fix someone else’s mess so wanted to raincheck their plans to the next evening. Y/N agreed easily to Harry and when James asked her an hour later, she agreed easily then too. They, Y/N, James, Emily, Corrine and a few other colleagues, went to a bar near Liverpool Street, all glass walls and posh light fixtures and 14 quid cocktails, the kind of place she knew Harry would hate. James bought a round for the table, then another. He sat next to Y/N and leaned in close to serenade her with stories about his rowing team at Oxford, his parents’ villa in Majorca, the apartment, not the flat, he lives in near Shoreditch High Street.

He was charming. Slick, even, and people listened when he spoke. Y/N watched the way her colleagues leaned toward him, hanging on every word. When she made a joke, James threw his head back and laughed loudly enough for the whole group to notice.

It felt like stepping into the life she’d always imagined. A shiny, effortless life, promised to her by her parents, full of people who never worried about rent or bus timetables.

When she finally slipped away, James caught her at the door. “You’ve got something about you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’d like to see more of it.”

Her stomach fluttered - not from attraction, but from how everyone else looked at him, with respect, with admiration.

***

Harry noticed the shift almost immediately.

“You’re out a lot lately,” he said one Friday when she had cancelled on curry night the day before for the second time in a row. His voice was careful, not accusing.

“It’s just some networking,” Y/N explained. “If I want to move up, I have to make connections.”

Harry leaned back on the sofa, rubbing in the nice hand cream Y/N had gotten him to take care of his working hands. “Networking or… James?”

Y/N bristled. “He’s just a colleague who’s helping me meet the right people.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Just seems like you’ve got less and less time for us, that’s all.”

Us.

The word lodged in her chest like a stone.

***

Her friends at work didn’t help.

“Y/N, don’t be daft,” Emily said over brunch one Sunday morning. “Harry’s sweet and all, but James? He’s already got the car, the apartment, the job that pays six figures. You really think a bloke who spends his days fitting kitchens and sanding doors can give you what James can?”

Y/N frowned into her coffee. “Harry’s not just… a bloke who fits kitchens, Emily. He’s brilliant at what he does.”

“Yeah, but come on,” Emily pressed. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life worrying, James can give you things that Harry can’t.” 

“Things like what?” Y/N asked, defensive

“Do you really want to live worrying about overtime pay and mortgage rates when you could have nice cocktails and expensive wine in Mayfair? James gives stability. Security. Holidays that don’t involve budget airlines. You’re made for more than takeaways and night buses, Y/N,” Emily sat back in her chair. 

Corinne leaned in, lowering her voice. “James can open doors, Y/N. Harry can build them, maybe, but James will take you straight through to where you want to be.”

***

The words stuck with her, no matter how hard she tried to brush them off and the tension at home grew thicker.

Friday night, Harry was cooking pasta in her flat, he’d let himself in with the key she’d given him a few weeks prior, smells of garlic, tomato and basil filling the air. His rough hands moved easily, practiced from years of sanding, measuring, building.

“You look nice,” he said when she walked in, heels clicking against the floor. His green eyes looking at her as if she was the most beautiful sight in the world, and to him, she was. 

“Thanks. Some work event this afternoon.”

“With James?” His voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the weight behind it.

“Yes,” she admitted.

He set down the spoon. “Y/N, I don’t care if he’s got money, or a flat in Shoreditch, or whatever. I just… I need to know you’re here with me. Not with him.”

She crossed her arms. “Harry, you don’t understand. James can give me access to things. Events, clients, places I’ve dreamed of. This isn’t about replacing you, it’s about my future.”

Harry’s jaw tightened. “Our future, I thought.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Y/N whispered, “Maybe we want different things.”

Harry blinked. “You really believe James can give you more than I can?”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Yes.” But it didn’t feel right in her chest. 

***

The breakup was quiet. No shouting, no slammed doors. Just a heavy silence as Harry packed the few shirts he’d left at her place, the half-finished book on her bedside table, his reuseable coffee cup out of the dish drainer. 

At the door, he looked back at her. “You’ll shine no matter what, Y/N, but I can’t keep chasing you while you’re chasing stars.”

And then he was gone.

A week later, Y/N went all in with James. She let herself be swept up in cocktail nights, fancy restaurants, and the thrill of being seen on his arm. Her friends beamed, her colleagues envied her, and her mother had replied to a photo of the pair with, “finally, someone who looks the part.”

But sometimes, in the early hours after James had fallen asleep, Y/N lay awake in the uncomfortable bed of the Shoreditch apartment and thought of pasta simmering on the stove, and the smell of curry that lingered in her flat the next day, of Harry’s quiet devotion, of the way he’d looked at her like she was his whole sky, his sun.

And she wondered if she’d made the right choice but then James swept her away on another trip and she didn’t think of it again until the quiet moments in the night.

***

James lasted a year. By the end, the cracks were obvious, dinners in the fancy restaurants eaten in near enough silence, James staying later and later at the office. When Y/N suggested a holiday together, he barely looked up from his laptop.

“Work’s mad right now. You should go with the girls, why don’t you pick where you want to go and I’ll pay it,” he muttered.

It was only when she found a text on his phone: Last night was amazing. Thank you for introducing me to all those people! Same again soon? xx

She packed her things. He’d found the next woman he’d help better herself without ending it with the first one. 

Y/N threw herself into work, into networking, into proving she didn’t need anyone.

That’s how she met Alexander Shaw.

It was at a charity gala in Mayfair. Y/N’s company had sent her as a reward for all of her recent hard work and to manage press for one of their clients, and as much as she’d always wanted to be in attendance to these types of events, she felt distinctly out of place among sequined gowns and black-tie suits.

Then Alexander appeared.

Tall, hair that was verging on salt and pepper, a suit that fit like a glove, tailored to perfection. His voice carried when he spoke to donors, but when he turned to Y/N, it softened. “You don’t look convinced by any of this,” he said, eyes sharp with amusement.

“I’m just here for work,” she admitted.

“Work,” he mused. “And what do you do when you’re not working?”

Y/N hesitated. “I feel all I do is work right now.”

Alexander smiled, slow and deliberate. “Then maybe I can help with that.”

***

With Alexander, everything was bigger. Restaurants with Michelin stars where the bill equalled her monthly rent but the portions looked like she could stick them in her eye. Weekend trips to Paris just because. Champagne by the boat load. A house in Knightsbridge with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view across Hyde Park.

Y/N’s friends were dazzled. Her parents practically glowed with approval.

But it wasn’t just wealth. There was a story to him too, one he shared one evening over a £300 bottle of wine that the remainder of went down the sink when they didn’t finish it. 

“My ex-wife lives in Boston,” he said, swirling the glass lazily. “She got the house, the children. I got my work and… freedom.”

“You see them often?” Y/N asked carefully. She hadn’t seen even a picture of children around his house. It was all pretentious artwork that she was sure he didn’t even like but was probably worth a small fortune. 

“I pay for everything,” he said, almost dismissively. “Private schools, holidays, everything they want. That’s what matters. Presence is…” he tailed off. “The children need stability, not clingy parents, they have everything they need and all they need to do is ask if they need anything else.”

Y/N nodded politely, but the words left a sour taste in her mouth.

Late at night, as Alexander took call in the other room, she would stand by the window and stare at the city lights. He provided everything she could ever want, except himself. It struck her that his children, thousands of miles away, lived with the same absence she felt when he was in the next room. 

Sometimes, staring out across the city, she wondered if Harry ever came this way for work, if he passed these glittering towers and thought of her.

***

The night it finally broke with Alexander, Y/N was dressed in a silvery gown. One she hadn’t even picked out; it appeared in the closet with her name on the tag. The dress glittered under the chandelier light, every step catching in tiny flashes, the kind of dress she’d once dreamed of wearing, standing beside the kind of man she thought she should want.

When Alexander looked at her across the marble floor of his Knightsbridge home, his eyes didn’t soften the way Harry’s once had. They assessed. Approved, like she was another polished addition to his curated life.

“Y/N,” he said sharply, fastening his cufflinks, “appearances matter. You’re with me now. That means something.”

Her stomach turned. “With you… or for you?”

He gave a short, humourless laugh. “Does it matter?”

Y/N swallowed, her throat tight. “Yes. It matters to me.”

For the first time in months, maybe years, she felt herself speak up and step back, as if looking at him, at the life she was going to have with him, from the outside. The champagne, the trips, the gowns. The wedding he was planning on his yacht in Spain. The wedding he was planning on his yacht. All glitter, no warmth. His ex-wife in the states, his children he sent money to but didn’t see, the endless calls and meetings that always came first. He had offered her the stars, but when she reached for them, they burnt her fingertips then fizzled out cold in her grip.

***

Two weeks later, she left. After two years, she left.

No screaming, no drama. The wedding was cancelled before she had to sign any papers. Her things packed into boxes that looked small against the backdrop of glass walls and Hyde Park views. Alexander barely argued. He shook her hand like she was a business partner leaving their meeting.

Her friends texting her, begging her to reconsider that she was throwing a lot away. Some friends, she thought. 

Her mother was horrified. “Do you realise what you’ve thrown away?” she gasped down the phone, voice thick with disbelief. “The life you could have had?”

Y/N closed her eyes, forcing her voice to stay calm. “It wasn’t a life. Not for me.”

She bit back the words burning at her tongue: He gave me nothing that mattered. He gave me nothing of himself.

***

At night, lying awake in the quiet of her own flat again, thankfully she hadn’t quite got round to giving up the flat during her relationship with Alexander maybe something in her subconscious knew she’d have to come back here. Y/N stared at the ceiling and thought of Harry.

Not James, who had dazzled her for a season then slipped into someone else’s bed to better them. Not Alexander, who had placed her on display like another piece of shitty art in his collection.

Harry.

Harry, who had stood outside her flat every Thursday with a takeaway bag of curry. Harry who didn’t even need to check what her order was before he went to get it. Harry, who built tables and staircases with the same hands that had traced her skin as if she were something precious. Harry who had skipped buses in order to be on the same one as her, he’d told he did that. Harry, who hadn’t promised her the stars, but the moon, steady, constant, bright enough to guide her through the dark.

She had been sold the idea of the glittering stars her whole life, business deals, and shimmering dresses, champagne and yachts and glamorous holidays. But now, staring into the silence, she realised the stars had been nothing but cold fires. What she missed, achingly so, down to the depth of her bones, was the quiet glow of the moon.

Harry.

And she had let him slip from her sky.

*** 

Y/N was thirty-one when she saw Harry again. It had been nearly 5 years since they parted ways.

It was Sunday morning in Regent’s Park. She’d gone running, she did things like that now, headphones in, the air still damp with last night’s rain. The paths were still a bit slick, and the smell of wet grass clung to the air. She slowed to a walk, when she walked past a patch of grass she knew quite well near the playground, tugging her jacket tighter when a shiver wracked through her body, although it wasn’t from the cold. A familiar laugh cut through the chatter of families and the creak of swings.

She stopped.

There he was.

Harry, standing by the swings, hands steady on the chains as a little girl pumped her legs forward. Her curls bounced with every kick, cheeks tinged pink with the effort.

“Higher, Daddy! Higher!” she squealed.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, to the point it made her cough and splutter.

Harry turned at the sound, the same easy tilt of his head she remembered. His eyes swept the park, then landed on her. They widened, recognition flashing across his face.

“Y/N,” he said, the word heavy, familiar. He clutched the chains of the swing he was pushing tight, pulling it to a stop. 

Her pulse stuttered. She tugged out her earbuds, tucking them into her pocket, steps tentative as she approached the fence of the playground. “Harry. Hi.”

He crouched beside the little girl who was wiggling off the swing seat. “Daisy, this is an old friend of mine.”

The girl glanced at Y/N with wide, curious eyes, eyes Y/N knew very well as they were mirrors of Harry’s then gave a wave.

Y/N’s smile wavered. “Hi, Daisy.”

“Hi daddy’s friend,” she giggled before she darted off towards the nearby slide.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The park carried on around them, a dog barking, a football being kicked across the grass, the wind blowing through the leaves, but between them years of silence.

“You’ve got a daughter,” Y/N said eventually, her voice soft, careful.

Harry nodded, watching Daisy climb the ladder to the slide. His expression gentled in a way Y/N hadn’t seen before, not even when he used to look at her. “She’s… everything, turned three just a few weeks ago.” Then, quieter, “Her mum and I… didn’t work out.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry.”

He gave a small shrug and a gentle smile. God, his smile. “It happens.” A pause. His eyes flicked back to her. “And you? Still in PR?”

“Yeah,” she said, managing a laugh. “Still in PR. Still working too many hours. Still figuring it out, really.”

Harry smiled, faintly teasing. “You always did love the chase. Y’still missing buses?”

She laughed, “more than ever before actually.” Y/N tilted her head. “And you? Still… building things?”

“Yeah. Got m’own workshop now. Keeps me busy, gives me enough free time to spend with little miss over there. Pays the bills.” His mouth curved wryly. “Doesn’t sound as shiny as your world, but…”

Y/N interrupted gently. “I always liked the sound of your world.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. His eyes lingered on hers, searching, unreadable.

“Y’look the same,” he said finally.

“So do you,” Y/N whispered.

For a moment, time hadn’t passed at all. She could almost smell the butter chicken from their first takeaway Thursday, hear his laugh echoing through her tiny flat, feel the way his hand had fit so naturally in hers.

Then Daisy called out from the top of the slide. “Daddy! Look!”

Harry turned, and his whole face lit up. Y/N’s heart clenched, she’d never been the reason for that kind of light. Not really.

He glanced back at Y/N, that smile still tugging at his mouth. “It was good to see you, Y/N.”

She swallowed. “You too.”

He hesitated, just for a beat — long enough for her to wonder if he might say more — but then Daisy shrieked with laughter, demanding his attention. Harry jogged toward her, scooping her into his arms at the bottom of the slide, spinning her until she squealed.

Y/N stood rooted to the spot, her chest aching. She watched them, Harry’s joy unguarded, real in a way that no glittering gala or Michelin-star dinner had ever been.

She could have had this.

She had traded the steady glow of the moon for stars that burnt out far too quickly. Now, here he was, the same as he had always been, orbiting steady, constant, still casting that perfect glow, while Y/N had chased light that never warmed her.

As he lifted Daisy onto his shoulders and started toward the café at the edge of the park, Harry glanced back. Just once. Their eyes caught across the distance, and for a heartbeat, it was as if the years fell away.

Then Daisy tugged at his hair, and he laughed, turning forward again.

Y/N exhaled, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob.

She had been the sun, blazing, always moving, always needing to shine brighter. And Harry had been the moon, quiet and unwavering, circling her no matter how far she went.

Seeing him again was like watching them hang in the same horizon — sun and moon, not quite touching, not yet.

And Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if someday, when the sky shifted, their paths might finally align again.

Y/N took a few grounding breaths before turning on the spot to begin her walk home. She felt something akin to sadness but also contentment, she couldn’t pin it down exactly, but as she mulled her feelings over in her head, her phone buzzed in her pocket. 

“Y/N? God I hope this is still your number… It’s Harry. Daisy and I do a little curry night on Thursdays. If you’re free… would love for you to join.”

Her heart skipped.

Then a second text, “xo”

She stared at the screen for a long moment, thinking of all the takeaways he’d ever carried home, all the quiet nights they’d shared, all the ways he had been there even when she hadn’t noticed.

A smile broke across her face. Small, tentative, but real.

She typed a quick reply: “I’d like that xo”

Then she looked up. The park was alive with children, joggers, and the gentle sway of the swings. Across the green, Harry laughed with Daisy, and for the first time in years, Y/N felt a flicker of something she had thought lost.

She had been the sun, bright and consuming. He had been the moon, silent yet unshakable, always circling her, and for the first time in a long while, the moon was calling her back into his orbit.

It was not the life she had imagined growing up, far from it. She’d had a taste of that and it remained to be her biggest regrets. This was something, something that felt like the promise of alignment, one quiet Thursday takeaway at a time.

You almost choked when you saw the long-haired man climb out of the black car. Harry. Your boyfriend. Well…sort of boyfriend. The two of you had secretly been seeing each other for the last three months. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your friends because the relationship was pretty taboo to say the least. He was quite a bit older than you, and with you still living at home, just barely out of school, you knew your parents wouldn’t approve. You’d both agreed to keep it secret for the time being, and to be honest, you found it even more thrilling because of it.

“He must be getting some froyo,” Piper commented as you watched Harry open the door to the yogurt shop. “Nice car, too. I wonder if he needs a wash.”

As though he heard her, Harry pulled his sunglasses off his eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of the both of you. Piper bravely waved at him, and you saw his lips curl up, his dimples dipping in his cheeks. Your stomach flipped when you noticed him release the door from his hand and set his shades on his head, holding back his long hair like a headband. Then in long strides, he walked toward you.

“Hi ladies,” he greeted.

“Hi,” Piper tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “Need a car wash?”

“Maybe,” Harry chuckled. “What’s it for?”

“We’re trying to raise money for the State University Dance Team.”

“The university has a dance team?” Harry raised a brow. His gaze shifted to you, though you weren’t the one speaking. You simply smiled at him as his eyes silently said what your insides did.

“Of course!” Piper giggled. “I’m the captain!”

“Oh!” Harry returned his attention to her, giving her a salute. “Well then, Captain, where shall I park my boat?”

You watched your friend turn bright red as she tried her best not to laugh too loudly. “Over there in that spot would be great,” she pointed.

“Right then. I’ll be right back,” Harry winked which only added to Piper’s giggles.

You caught the gleam in Harry’s eyes before he turned toward his car, unlocking it with the key fob. Then rolling your own eyes, you grabbed your bucket and brought it to the hose to fill it.

“He’s really hot up close,” remarked Piper as she stood next to you. You felt your skin prickle. Of course he was. You knew this firsthand. But you weren’t about to tell her that. “Isn’t he like forty or something?”

A laugh burst from your throat then, unavoidably. “No. He’s…in his thirties…I think.”

“Whatever,” Piper shrugged. “He looks good.”

As Harry pulled up the drive and into the spot Piper had indicated, you quickly grabbed your sponge and got to washing his car, before he even got out.

“Woah, quick little thing, you are,” he said when you saw his boot hit the pavement next to you.

“Y/N, that’s rude!” Piper hissed just as Harry shut his door. “Sorry about that, Mr…”

“Styles. But please, call me Harry,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Alright, Harry,” your friend beamed, shaking his hand. “I’m Piper.”

“Lovely to meet you, Piper. And you’re…Y/N?” he pointed at you.

You rolled your eyes again at his blatant attempt to pretend he didn’t know you. You supposed it was for the best, but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed. At what exactly, you weren’t sure.

“Yes,” you nodded, scrubbing his rear fender.

“And you’re both on the dance team?” Harry gestured.

“No, Y/N’s not,” said Piper as she bent over to wet her sponge in her bucket. “Just me…and the rest of my team there. Y/N’s already graduated, but she’s my bestie so she was sweet enough to volunteer.”

“That was very kind of you.” You looked up to see a sincere expression on his face. You smiled, earning one back from him.

“Well this will take a little while, Mr. Sty- I mean, Harry,” Piper blushed. “We have waters and sodas over there in that cooler if you want anything to drink while you wait.”

“Actually, I was thinking of grabbing something next door.”

“Oh,” Piper nodded. “Perfect.”

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Harry waved, giving you what seemed like an extra long stare before turning for the yogurt shop.

“Hey, is this the last car of the day?” another one of the girls, Ana, called out as she walked toward you. The SUV she and two other girls had been washing pulled out of the parking lot, looking shiny and new.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said. “Wanna give us a hand?”

“Of course, the sooner we can get out of here, the better! I’m starved!”

Ana waved over the other girls, and before you knew it, the teamwork had paid off and Harry’s car was sparkling.

“Thanks so much, guys,” you said. “I appreciate your help.”

“Yeah, good job ladies!” cheered Piper, giving the other three high fives. “You can go if you want. We’ll wait here for our payment and we’ll clean up the buckets and stuff.”

The rest of the team thanked you for participating, giving you hugs. You all giggled when your wet shirts wanted to cling together.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Piper with a grin. “Do you think Mr. Styles will be pleased?”

You stood back to admire your work. “Yeah, I think-”

“I think he’ll be very pleased,” you heard a voice say.

Lifting your eyes, you saw Harry walking up the drive, a froyo cup in each hand, a grin on his handsome face.

“Excellent job, ladies,” he said, stepping closer to you and Piper. “I reckon you’ve earned a treat.”

You nearly choked at his words, suddenly in a fit of coughs. That was one of his phrases he used with you in bed when you’d “been a good girl” as he put it. Piper eyed you with wide eyes of her own, urging you to stop coughing until you reached for a water from the table.

“You alright, Y/N?” asked Harry. “Was it something I said?”

After guzzling half the bottle, you looked at him with narrowed eyes and a set jaw. He smirked, knowing full well what he was doing before turning back to Piper.

“Anyway, I do intend to pay, don’t worry,” he chuckled holding out a cup of vanilla with sprinkles. “Just wanted to give you two a little extra for your hard work.”

“Wow, thanks Mr. Styles,” beamed Piper as she took the yogurt from him.

“Harry, please,” he insisted.

“Harry…” she smiled wide.

You didn’t miss the way she shifted her weight onto her right hip and tilted her head at him. You also didn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes landed on her wet t-shirt, the damp material clinging to her chest and revealing the outline of her bra. Then spooning a bit of the froyo, Piper stuck out her tongue and met the spoon with it, giving it a not-so-subtle suck.

Clearing your throat, you set down your water bottle. Harry turned to you, holding out his other hand.

“For you, love,” he said.

Your hands grazed each other as you took your cup, Harry’s pinky finger locking around yours for just a moment before he let go.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“You’re very welcome,” he said.

The chill of the frozen yogurt instantly cooled you and made you calm - that is until Harry reached for his wallet and pulled out some cash.

“Um…I suppose I give this to the captain?” he asked.

“Mmm, yes, I’ll take that, thank you!” squealed Piper, popping the spoon from her mouth and quickly taking the bills from him. Then she stopped, her jaw wide open as she gasped. “Mr. Styles! This is two twenties! The car wash is only five!”

Harry shrugged, a smug expression on his handsome face. “Consider it a contribution.”

“Wow! Thank you Mr. S-, I mean…Harry. That’s really sweet of you.”

You didn’t miss the way Piper batted her lashes at him, nor the way he responded silently with a wink. Deciding you’d had enough of this awkward little show, you set down your yogurt cup and pulled out your phone.

“Hey Piper, I’m getting an Uber now,” you announced. “We should probably finish cleaning up.”

“Oh,” she blinked, looking over at you as though she’d forgotten you were there. “Yeah, okay.”

“Wait, an Uber?” Harry glared at you, then back at your friend.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda funny for us to do a car wash when neither of us have a car of our own,” Piper chuckled. “But you know, broke college girl here. And Y/N sometimes drives her mom’s car, but she needed it today.”

Although Harry knew your vehicle situation already, you shrugged.

“Oh, well c’mon, we can’t have you spending money when I have a car right here. I’d be happy to drive you ladies home.”

“Seriously?” Piper beamed.

“Of course. I was headed home anyway. I have no other plans.”

You looked at Piper who looked at you with wide eyes. “If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes,” you pointed out. “We just have to clean up.”

“Yeah, plus we have to bring the buckets and cooler and stuff with us. Is that okay?” added Piper.

“No problem at all,” said Harry. “I’ll go ahead and load the ice chest into the boot.”

You couldn’t help but smile as your handsome boyfriend opened his trunk and lifted the heavy cooler, his muscles flexing. Just as your mind started thinking of the things you hoped he would do with those muscles later, Piper knocked your shoulder with hers, getting your attention.

“Look at him, he’s so hot and lean!” she breathed through her teeth. “I wanna climb him like a tree.”

Part of you wanted to snap at her that he was yours and not up for grabs, but you knew better. Instead, you reached for a bucket to rinse out just as he slammed the trunk shut.

“Ready when you are, ladies,” Harry announced. “I’ll get the a/c going so you won’t die of a heat stroke.”

“I think I’m already dying,” Piper fanned herself as she crouched down to scrub the other bucket.

Once the buckets and sponges were all rinsed out, you turned off the hose while Piper carried them to Harry’s car, opening the back door. You heard them laughing as you made your way to the passenger side.

“All done,” you declared when you noticed Piper had already claimed the front seat. Sliding into the back next to the buckets, you quickly buckled your seatbelt before lifting your eyes to catch Harry’s looking at you in the rearview mirror.

“Wanna put your address in the GPS there, Piper?” he directed as he pulled out of the lot.

Once Piper had done as instructed, you sat back and listened as the two of them somehow slipped into an easy, casual conversation about school and the dance team. Your friend then asked Harry if he was a musician to which he chuckled.

“I am, yeah,” he smirked.

“Ooh, I thought so. Are you like a rockstar?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that. I was in a band. We made a few records.”

“Would I know any of your songs?” Piper inquired.

“Maybe. Depends on what you listen to.”

“Do you have any you could play for us?”

You groaned, hoping to God he didn’t. Not that his music wasn’t any good. On the contrary - you thought it was remarkable. But just like Harry himself, you weren’t ready to share any part of him with anyone else just yet. He was yours alone, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Harry laughed, “Not on me, sorry.”

You caught the pout on Piper’s lips which made you grin. You quickly wiped the smile off your face though when Piper turned to look at you.

“Should I ask him to sing for us?”

Before you could reply, Harry chuckled harder, shaking his head. “I’m afraid the answer would be no, love.”

“Aww, why not?” Piper whined.

“Because…” he paused, his eyes catching yours in the rearview again. “I don’t perform on the spot.” Then he looked at Piper. “Not without my guitar, at least.”

“Bummer,” Piper sighed, sitting back in her seat. “Sorry, Y/N, looks like Mr. Styles isn’t a real rockstar after all.”

“What?” Harry snorted.

“I guess you just look like one,” Piper quipped.

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. But you noticed the dimples in his cheeks and the gleam in his eye. He was loving the attention.

Fortunately, just at that moment, the GPS directed Harry to turn right into Piper’s neighborhood. Then making a quick left, and another right, he pulled into her parents’ driveway. Opening the trunk, he quickly retrieved the cooler, setting it down on the pavement. Piper grabbed the buckets from the back seat next to you, giving you a look.

“I’ll call you later,” she mouthed.

You simply nodded. She thanked you again for helping out before shutting the door. You heard her thank Harry as he dragged the cooler up the driveway and onto the carport where he stopped and gave her a hug. You didn’t miss the way he pulled her close when she threw her arms around him. You pretended to be inspecting your nails when he returned to the car and slid in behind the wheel.

“Do you wanna get in the front seat now?” he asked you.

“No,” you replied curtly, gazing out the window.

“What? Why not?”

Sighing through your nose, you lifted your eyes. “She’s still watching,” you muttered.

“Oh,” Harry sounded, stealing a glance back at Piper. “So. You can still come sit up here beside me.”

“It’s okay,” you said.

Shifting the car into reverse, Harry stretched his arm across the back of the passenger seat, his expression berating, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Something wrong with you, Y/N?” he asked as he backed out of the driveway. Then shifting into drive, he gave a quick wave to Piper who waved back before heading down her street.

“No.”

“Y/N?” His jade eyes met yours again in the rearview mirror as he turned onto the main road. You rode in silence for a minute or two before he said your name again. “Y/N. What is it, kitten?”

You scoffed at his pet name for you, the sound of it from his lips making you even more perturbed. How dare he use it now after what he’d just so blatantly done in front of you!

“What the fuck was that?” you blurted, the jealousy that had been boiling in your gut finally making its way to your mouth.

“What was what?”

“That!”

“Wh- you’ll have to be more specific, love. What is that?”

“There are no specifics. It was the whole afternoon. Ever since you arrived! You were fucking flirting with her the entire time! Right in front of me!”

“I was not!”

“Yes you were! Don’t try to deny it, Harry! I was there. I saw it with my own eyes!”

You saw Harry’s shoulders shake as he was no doubt laughing silently at your expense. Asshole.

“Y/N, I was not flirting with your friend. If anything, she was coming on to me.”

“But you let her,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest again in defiance.

“What was I supposed to do, kitten? Tell her about us? I know that’s not what you want.”

“No,” you shook your head. “But you didn’t have to act like you enjoyed it.”

Harry chuckled, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. You scowled, knowing he did that on purpose so you couldn’t see his expression and if he was looking at you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N. I’ve told you I’m yours, that you’re the only one I care about. I can’t help it if your cute friend decided to flirt with me.”

“So, you admit you thought she was cute.”

Harry’s condescending laugh rang throughout the car as he made a left turn. “I’m not even going to respond to that, kitten. I did nothing wrong. I helped out you and your friend with her little charity thing. It was a nice thing to do. And I offered you both a ride because it’s also a nice thing to do.”

“You know, you don’t always have to be so goddamn charming,” you huffed.

“And you don’t have to be such a brat.”

Even with his shades on, you could tell he was getting angry with you. Fine, you thought. Let him. You’d been angry ever since he’d shown up.

When he turned onto your street, you noticed he didn’t slow down when he approached your house.

“You- you passed my house,” you commented.

“Not taking you home,” said Harry.

You huffed as he kept driving and only slowed when he neared his own driveway. Biting your lip, you watched him pull into the garage, put the car in park and turn off the engine. Slipping off his shades, he eyed you in the mirror before exiting the car and walking around to your side.

“Get out,” he commanded when he opened your door. When you didn’t, he held out his hand. “C’mon, kitten, don’t make Daddy angry.”

You gazed up at him then, your eyes wide. You only used the D word in the bedroom. Was he planning to take you there now? Hesitantly, you took his hand and let him help you out of the car. When he slammed the door shut, you noticed his jaw was set, his brows knitted again. Dropping your hand, he headed for the door, pushing the button to close the garage.

Once inside, he dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, and with his back to you, he opened the refrigerator to grab a beer, guzzling half of it before shutting the door. You wondered for a moment why he’d driven you to his place and made you get out of the car if he was just going to give you the silent treatment. But when he turned to face you, his expression stoic, you worried he was even angrier than you’d thought.

“You’re a brat, Y/N. You know that, yeah?”

“No, I-”

“Don’t talk back to me. You know I’m right.” Setting the beer on the counter, he walked toward you.

“I wasn’t trying to be a brat, Harry,” you argued, your emotions building up in your throat. “I didn’t like seeing you…looking at Piper…the way you look at me.”

“Are you serious, kitten?” Harry tilted his head. “There is no fucking way I was-”

“Well it seemed like it to me!” you exclaimed, your fists at your sides.

“C’mere!” Harry shouted, grabbing your arm. He led you through the living room, down the hall to his bedroom. “Do you need me to prove that I’m only looking at you?”

Sitting down on the bed, Harry wiggled his finger, beckoning you.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Bend over. Brats deserve a spanking.”

You simply stared him in disbelief, not moving an inch.

“C’mon, little girl,” he demanded. “You must be punished.”

“Harry, I-”

“Nope. Not Harry. You don’t get to call me that when you’re being a brat.”

A whimper rose from your throat. He was really planning on spanking you. To prove a point? You weren’t sure exactly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered before bending over his lap.

You felt his big hand slide up your thigh, to the edge of your denim shorts. When it reached your ass, you flinched, bracing yourself for the smack.

“You know why Daddy has to do this, don’t you, kitten?” Harry voiced as he held you down with his other arm across your back.

“Y-yes, sir,” you replied shakily.

“Why?”

“Because…I was bad.”

“Very bad. Not only were you a jealous little brat, but you talked back to me. You even shouted at me. We can’t have that.”

The first blow surprised you, a quick slap on your denim-covered rear end that made you jump. 

“I do nothing but show you how special you are to me, how valuable. I respect your wishes to keep our relationship secret. I’m not seeing anyone else. It’s just you, kitten. But you decide that’s not good enough for you. You have to find jealousy where there is none to find.”

Another spank, harder than the first one had you gripping the bedding in front of you. “I-I’m sorry, D-daddy.”

“If anyone’s jealous, it should be me,” Harry continued. “I’m jealous that I don’t get to flaunt you in public, show everyone you’re my sweet, beautiful princess. I’m jealous of everyone that gets to be with you all the time, the way I wanna be.”

Your eyes began to water when Harry spanked you again, a little lower on your bum, close to your thigh. That one stung, and was sure to leave a mark. However, the tears may have also been from hearing his confession. He’d never told you that before. You assumed he wanted the relationship secret.

You heard his breath hitch after he spanked you once more, his hand rubbing the tender flesh that he’d just heated underneath the hem of your shorts. Though you waited for another spank, you were surprised when none came, and instead, Harry’s hand continued to fondle your delicate skin. When his thumb grazed the edge of your panties, pushing the slender strip of fabric between your legs to the side, your toes instantly curled as you anticipated his next move. You felt him remove his hand for a moment, only to return with wet fingers which he swiftly used to lubricate your folds. You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips as you hiked up your hips for better friction.

But Harry was having none of that. “Shh. Be quiet,” he scolded.

Biting your lip, you remained still and silent as Harry resumed his petting. Then ever so gently, he slipped just his fingertips into your already pulsing hole. You gripped the bedspread underneath you, wishing there was a pillow or something to bite, to muffle the moans that were coming, and more that were sure to soon follow.

“This sweet little pussy is mine,” he declared, “I’ve claimed it. But you don’t seem to understand what that means.”

Sliding his wet fingers deeper into you, even wetter now from your juices, he groaned. You swallowed hard, trying your damnedest not to make a sound, but it was difficult. He always knew exactly where to touch you, how deep and with just the right amount of pressure. When he began to pump his hand faster, you clawed at his thigh underneath you, breathing hard and jagged through your nose.

“It means I’m yours too, kitten. That Daddy worships you and your sweet, tight cunt. And I don’t want anyone else’s. I wanna watch you writhe underneath me, or on top of me just like this. Because you’re Daddy’s filthy cute little kitten.”

A deep moan rose to your throat before you could stop it, escaping your lips like a bubble. You knew if he kept this up you would come soon.

But just as you thought you might explode, your stomach tight and your core clenching, Harry stopped and pulled out his fingers. You whined against the bed, the absence of his fingers cause a severe ache between your legs.

“Daddy?” you dared to whisper through a panting breath.

But Harry didn’t reply. Instead, he spanked you again, hard against your pussy. Punishment, that’s what this was. You should have known he wouldn’t let you come, not just yet. He hadn’t proven his point yet. You laid there quiet, waiting for his next move.

“On your knees,” you suddenly heard him say.

Sliding off the bed, you knelt before him on the floor, your eyes wide and pleading. Removing his boots, Harry wasted no time unbuttoning his jeans, rising from the bed to push them down. You could already see the outline of his erection through his briefs as he stood gazing down at you.

“You know what I want you to do,” he said, his eyelids already heavy, his arousal apparent.

You nodded, unsure if you were allowed to speak. But when you reached for his underwear, he grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“This is not part of the punishment, kitten,” Harry conveyed. “I just want you to show me you want only me, just like I want only you.”

You nodded again as you pulled down his briefs, his hard cock springing free in front of your face. You blinked as you felt yourself blush. Even though you’d had him in your mouth and your pussy several times now, his lovely, thick penis never failed to excite you.

Taking it in your hand, you squeezed gently, preparing to lubricate it. But again, Harry stopped you, cupping your chin to look up at him.

“Show me how much you appreciate it, baby. How much you love having it in your mouth, just like the filthy little girl you are. You can do that, can’t you, love? You can speak now.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you replied emphatically.

“You like to make me feel good don’t you?” Harry asked as you spit on the tip and began stroking him.

“Very much,” you smiled.

“Yeah…” Harry hitched a breath as you stuck out your tongue and brought his hard cock to meet it, wetting the underside. Then he dragged his fingers through your hair, urging you to take him deeper.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you sucked him, earning another gasp from him. Then bringing your free hand up, you gently held onto his hip while you gave your jaw a break, licking around his shaft in circles.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned. “You’re so good at this, kitten. Such a filthy cute girl, you are. And you love it don’t you?”

Your eyes met him as you enveloped your lips around him once again. Humming in agreement, you took him deeper, knowing he always praised you when you did.

“Yes, you love sucking on my big, hard cock, don’t you princess? Taking it so deep, so well. Fuck, you’re an angel.”

As you continued, Harry sighed, removing his shirt and letting it fall beside you. Then with a big groan, he tangled his fingers in your hair again, gently thrusting his hips. You felt your eyes water as you took him the deepest you ever had, hitting the back of your throat. You gagged for just a moment, popping off of him to swallow and do it again. Harry seemed pleased.

“That’s enough, baby,” you heard him say, his voice low and raspy. “I need to fuck that tight little cunt now.”

You gazed up at him, an easy grin on your face, your saliva sticking to the tip of his bulbous head.

“Yes, Daddy,” you nodded, happy to move on to the next step. Your pussy was throbbing, and you knew if you didn’t feel him inside you soon, you’d perish.

Stepping out if his jeans and underwear, Harry reached for you, lifting your arms to remove your shirt. Then he pulled you into a deep kiss, fucking your mouth with his tongue. You sucked on it with a moan, earning one from him as well.

“Tell me, baby,” he murmured as he unfasted your bra and hastily reached for your shorts. “Tell me how much you love my cock - how badly you need it.”

“I love it so much, Daddy,” you declared hurrying to remove your shoes. “It’s so big. And you fuck me so good.”

“Do you think about it when you’re not with me?” Harry asked.

“All the time,” you nodded, gasping when his finger slipped inside your panties. “Please, Daddy…I need it. I need it all the time…”

“‘s that why you’re always wet like this?” he smirked, his calloused fingertip rubbing sensually against your clit. “Always ready for me, hmm?”

“Yes.”

“That makes me feel good, kitten. I like knowing you’re thinking about me.”

“Only you, Daddy.”

In once swift movement, Harry grabbed you and lifted you up and around to the bed. Laying you down, he pulled down your already soaking panties, tossing them next to your shoes.

You stared at him as he hovered over you, his hard cock knocking against your stomach. You started to slide your hands up his arms until he stopped you with one hand. You frowned, worried that his punishment was not over after all.

“You can touch me later, princess,” he informed you, pinning down your wrists. “Right now you’re just going to take my cock, every bit of it. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you blinked.

“Tell me how it feels. I wanna hear it from your filthy little mouth. But do not come until I say you can. Alright?”

You let out a small whimper before nodding. “Yes, sir.”

Before he even entered you, you knew his request was going to be difficult. Sex with Harry was nothing if not incredible. He always made you come, and sometimes with multiple orgasms. Why he even doubted how much you enjoyed it and thought about it when he wasn’t around was surprising to you. You felt like it was completely obvious, regardless of your words of praise. But if that’s what he wanted now, you were more than happy to oblige. It was just going to be so hard not to come. And you realized it tenfold as soon as you felt his big, hard cock enter you slowly.

“Mmm, Daddy…” you purred.

“Yes, kitten,” Harry chuckled low. Peppering kisses along your neck and jaw, he bucked his hips, hitting the magic spot.

“You’re so big,” you gasped. “Fuck, you fill me completely.”

“Yeah…you like that, don’t you baby. You like that stretch.”

“Mmhm,” you sounded as he began to thrust. “Oh God, I missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah, you want it everyday, baby?”

“Yessss…” you cried when he hit that spot again, making your toes curl.

“Mmmm, that can be arranged. Just gotta say the word.”

You threw your head back as Harry pumped harder, wanting desperately to claw his back but he still had your wrists held down. Panting between each thrust, you knew you could come soon, but Harry wouldn’t allow it. Not yet. But you were so close already.

“Ohhh, Daddy!” you cried. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

Harry growled, finally releasing your wrists to slip his hands underneath you, lifting your hips slightly.

“You take me so well, darling,” he breathed. “Fuckin’ little cunt just for me.”

“Yes!”

“So wet…so warm…” he cooed, kissing your lips between each word. “Such a good girl.”

“Please, Daddy…” you whined, daring to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Oh God, please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“I’m…oh fuck, I’m so close…”

Suddenly, Harry paused his thrusts, slipping out of your folds completely. You muttered a “no” as he hovered over you, staring into your eyes.

“Not yet, kitten,” he shook his head, his brows furrowed. His expression had returned to the scolding look, and you swallowed hard at the intensity it portrayed.

You bit your lip as you stifled a moan, and you felt the tears welling in your eyes. Harry seemed to have taken to this edging thing, and you weren’t sure you liked it very much. What you wanted was to come all over his cock, multiple times if possible. But this was obviously not like the other times you’d fucked. This was…torture.

“You come when I say you can, remember?”

You blinked rapidly. “Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

“Good girl,” he said, kissing your forehead.

“Can…can I touch you now? Please?”

Harry’s face softened, his lips curling into a gentle smile. “Yes, baby. Thank you for asking.”

Returning the grin, you reached for his long hair that fell around you, running your hands through it until your fingertips met his handsome face. He softly closed his eyes with a hum as you glided your thumbs across his cheeks. You really loved his face - even when he looked angry. But you especially loved it in moments like this, when he looked soft and happy…almost tender.

Then sliding your hands around his neck, you pulled him to you to caress his full, pillowy lips. He groaned low against your mouth as his own hands slid down your sides. Then lifting your hips again, he entered you with a long, deep thrust.

“Ohhhh,” you breathed against him.

“Take me, honey,” Harry moaned. “My God, you’ve got some kind of hold on me.”

“I do?” you whispered, wondering if he was just spouting rubbish because he was close as well.

“Fuck, yes, kitten. Daddy doesn’t like to get cross with you.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry I was a brat. I know now you only want me.”

“That’s right, baby…” Harry sped up his thrusts, letting out a deep, guttural moan.

You could feel yourself reaching the edge again, your core tightening as he fucked you hard and deep. The wet, squelching sounds of his hard cock moving in and out of your pussy, his balls hitting your ass were enough to make you cry out.

“Fuck, Daddy! Mmmm, feels so good!”

“Tell me…”

“It’s so hard, so deep. Nobody fucks me like you do, Daddy.”

“Oh yes, kitten. You only want my cock, yeah?”

“Yes…aaahhhhh…”

You grabbed hold of your thighs, looping your arms underneath your knees to keep them up, open and wide. You didn’t think you could hold out much longer, and when you heard Harry moan again, sexy expletives in your ear, you lost it.

“Please Daddy, can I come, please? I need to so bad. I’m right there!” you cried, more tears springing from the corners of your eyes.

“Yes, kitten. Come all over me. You’ve been such a good girl.”

With a few more whimpers as Harry pumped deep inside of you, the dam finally broke and you covered his hard cock with your juices. Throwing your head back, you cried out.

“Aaa-aaaa-uuuugggghhh!”

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl,” he cooed, his warm, deep voice vibrating in your ear.

“Ohhh, thank you, Daddy. Thank you.”

“Yeah, baby. Was that good?”

“So good. Oh God…” you panted, coming down from your orgasm as Harry held you. He kissed you tenderly, rubbing his nose against yours.

“You’re so beautiful when you come, kitten. I almost feel bad for making you wait.”

You smiled with your eyes closed, knowing full well that he wore a smirk. But you’d let him have his moment of triumph. Because you also knew he wasn’t finished with you yet.

Patting the underside of your thigh, Harry murmured, “Turn over, baby.”

With only a tiny moan of protest because you were spent, you rolled over onto your stomach, immediately propping yourself on your knees and gripping the pillow underneath you. Bracing yourself for a quick thrust, you were once again surprised when you felt Harry slither down the end of the bed to situate his face at your already saturated yet satisfied pussy. He gave your ass a quick slap before quickly extending his tongue to lap up your juices. You called out when he did it a second time, leaving his tongue to linger on your clit.

“Fuck…” you whimpered as he began seducing you with his tongue, moving in delicate laps and circles. “Daddy, you’ll make me come again.”

“Mmhmm,” you heard him agree, his hands gripping your thighs tightly.

Your ass in the air, you bucked against him, needing the friction to come. But he was merely teasing you with his tongue, barely ghosting over your tender flesh before applying the slightest bit of pressure.

“Uuuggghhhh Daddy, please!” you cried.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, lifting his head. Then he slapped his hand across your cunt. “Is this sweet little pussy gonna come again for Daddy?”

“Uh huh,” you managed to breathe.

“Do you want my cock again, or my tongue?”

“B-both.”

Harry chuckled, patting you again. “Don’t reckon that’s possible at once, but I love how insatiable you are. Filthy.”

You groaned just as you felt him insert a finger. Then another. Then lowering himself back down, he kissed your butt cheek. His fingers pumped your pussy as his tongue teased your hole, his other hand spreading you open. You mewled, fisting the pillow by your head, willing him to do all the dirty things he wanted. But your legs were trembling as his fingertips curled inside you, tapping on your softest spot.

“Fuck!” you panted.

When Harry’s tongue met your folds again, he reached his other hand around to pinch your clit. And that was when you came undone. You cried out as your juices squirted, your knees no longer able to hold you up. Harry kept his fingers inside you as you laid flat on the bed until you were no longer trembling.

“Wow, such a good girl, baby,” Harry cooed against your back. “That was pretty intense, yeah?”

“I think I made a mess of the bed,” you muttered against the pillow.

Harry chuckled, his slender, firm body covering yours as he made his way to your shoulder, kissing it before pushing your hair from your cheek.

“Think you got one more for me, kitten?” he asked softly.

“No,” you said honestly.

He laughed harder, guiding you onto your knees again. “Can we try?”

“Okay…” you sighed, still wanting to please him. Though your body was spent at the moment, you knew that once he had his cock inside you, you’d come to life again.

And you were right. As soon as his dick slipped into your pussy - although a bit sore - you were ready for him to pound you again.

As he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against your mound, your fingernails dug into the bed. And when he started to moan, his hands gripping your ass, you wanted nothing more than to make him come.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you pleaded. “Just like that.”

“Oh baby, I’m so close,” he panted.

“Yes, Daddy. Come inside me.”

“You want me to come inside your sweet pussy, baby?” he asked, his breaths quickened.

“Yes! I need it, Daddy.”

His thrusts got harder and faster as he groaned louder. Then reaching between you, you cupped his balls, earning a deep moan from him.

“Fuck yeah….uuuunnnnngggghhhh.”

With two last bucks of his hips, Harry stopped and cursed loudly. You could hear him exhaling heavily, his hands still pressed against your hips.

“Fuck, babe, you’re amazing. Oh, my sweet little kitten.”

You sighed as you felt him slip out of you. Then he rolled you over and climbed up to kiss your lips.

“A naughty little thing you are, though,” he smirked. “I can’t believe you let me do all that.”

“I was a bad girl,” you blinked.

Chuckling through a breath, Harry ran his hand through his hair, then laid down next to you. “I have to admit, love. I was turned on that you were a wee bit jealous.”

“So you were flirting with her, I knew it!” you exclaimed.

“No, I wasn’t,” he laughed. “At least not on purpose.”

Pursing your lips, you gave him a look.

“I swear to you, honey. I was not looking or thinking about anyone else but you. As soon as I saw you stood there in your short little shorts and your wet t-shirt…I knew I had to find a way to get you home as soon as possible.”

“Really?”

“Truly. Your friend just happened to be there, and I wasn’t gonna be rude.”

You bit your lip and shrugged. “I guess I can accept that.”

With a grin, Harry leaned over and placed another kiss on your lips. “Now, let’s go wash up and I’ll take you to dinner.”

“In public?” you asked with wide eyes.

Harry’s smile widened, making you melt. “If you like.”

Sitting up, you considered his offer for a moment. Your relationship had been secret for a while now. You’d had dinner with him at his place before, had ordered take-out or gone through a drive-thru a handful of times. But you’d yet to go out in public like a real date. Your eyes darted around the room before you licked your lips and nodded, taking his hand.

“Yes, Harry. I’d like that.”

Thank you to those who subscribed to my Patreon. It is just not for me, unfortunately, and I apologize for not giving you more content. I love you from the bottom of my heart.

Special thanks to @freedomfireflies, @fkinavocado, @gurugirl and @monicaalexandraaa for the encouragement 💗.

He wasn’t the fresh out of XFactor sixteen year old he’d been when they first started dating. He was Harry from One Direction now, and despite him feeling as the same shy guy that worked in a bakery, life around him had changed, and with it, his relationship.

He knew how she was; he knew she wasn’t answering because she was upset. And Harry really didn’t blame her, but he just didn’t find it reasonable to be upset (“stubborn little thing! — he’d say, once she had calmed down and answered the phone — It doesn’t benefit neither of us if you don’t pick up ‘cause you’re mad!”).

He rolled his eyes once the line went dead, and opened the text app instead, typing quickly with his fingers.

Baby pick up I wanna talk to you

After a couple of minutes, he wrote again: please

I miss you

And after that, he tried the line once again. This time, she picked up after five rings with a small “hello?”, her voice sounded croaky distorted from the phone.

“Hello angel. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

“It’s okay”, and Harry felt her sigh through the phone, “i was thinking we should push back the calls until you’re back…”

“What?”

“I know you’re pretty busy,” she said, sternly, “and I don’t want to bother you.”

“What?” Harry repeated, and once he realised he already asked that, he cleared his voice and said: “you could never be a bother”.

YN couldn’t see him but she knew he was shaking his head. She tried not to picture the frown in his brows and the pout on his lips, otherwise she couldn’t possibly keep going.

“Things are different now—”

“No.” He cut her off, “don’t say that, angel. Nothing’s changed. It’s still us.”

“Harry” she softened her tone to make sure he really understood her, “it’s still us. — she nodded firmly to herself — I think it’s best if we stick to texting for now. It’s okay.”

“Okay… okay, if that’s - if that’s what you want. Okay.”

“It’s better this way” she sighed once again and Harry felt her breathing through the phone, her shaky breath loud in his ears as if it were his own.

“But we’re good, right? Tell me we’re good.”

“Yes, of course we’re good.”

Harry nodded, staying quiet as the words she’d just spoken lingered in the air between them. Despite being so far away he could almost feel her right next to him as she kept talking, unaware of the heavy weight he felt on his chest making it a little harder to breathe, the sudden realisation that maybe they weren’t good after all.

-

Harry:

Good luck on your exam baby xx

Harry typed the message quickly before locking his phone in his hands.

“1 minute, guys!” Paul reminded them, and for the first time in three years, Harry didn’t want to perform.

YN had a really big exam, the most important of her course, and his heart ached at the thought of not being there with her. He didn’t want to go on stage, and if he was a bad person, he wouldn’t. He would call his driver and go straight to the airport. But Harry wasn’t like that. No.

Since the beginning of his career, he always felt like he owed something to someone, because as he often said to YN, things like this don’t happen to people like him. What he meant with ‘people like him’ no one truly knows, because YN is sure Harry would be successful even if he wasn’t in the band, even if he never went to XFactor, he would have found a way to do what he loves. People would’ve known him either way, because he’s Harry Styles.

And if he didn’t… was it that bad? Wasn’t a life with her not enough to him? She often wonders that, but then she feels extremely guilty and she stops. She knows it’s wrong to think in such a way, because Harry says many times that that XFactor audition was the best thing he ever did in his life, but sometimes you can’t really control your heart as much as your thoughts.

“Harry, stop texting and let’s go!” Paul shouted, from his position on the doorframe.

Sometimes it’s though, for Harry. He tries really hard not to snap at the crew members because he knows they’re just doing their job, but he would often like to say: handle me a little bit softer, please! Because he is still human, and despite enjoying his job, he still needs to be handled gently. He’s only 19.

He obviously never says anything because as stated before, he’s had this strange feeling of owing his career to someone (no one in particular… his fans? Simon Cowell? He doesn’t know, he just knows the feeling in his gut), and he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone.

Harry throws a quick glance at him and nodds, sighing heavily as he hears his phone ding with a message.

Angel <3:

Can I call you, please? I don’t feel good

“Harry, I said let’s go.” He said once again, walking towards him and taking his shirt in his grip, tugging on the sleeve a bit.

Harry grimaced a little at the thought of not answering YN’s text, but he hadn’t opened it, so he guessed she’d probably think he was already on stage.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” He shrugged, tossing his phone on the couch and turning towards the door.

Paul nods and “c’mon, rockstar” he said, ruffling Harry’s hair playfully.

“Hey!” He pouted, chuckling as he bumps his arm against his.

Harry tried not to think too much about YN and her message, but he couldn’t help the pang in his chest as he walked out of the changing rooms and heard his phone ringing, the personalised ringer he set YN when he first bought the phone hitting him right in the heart.

He rolled his lips in his mouth as he walked towards the stage, the image of YN all alone at home with her phone to her ear hunting his thoughts.

-

Harry:

Hey, baby, how are you? What are you doing?

seen, 10.27am

Answer meeeee

seen, 11.47am

Are you mad at me? Why aren’t you answering?

seen, 12.01am

Angel <3:

Hary.. sprry i was ouy

Harry:

Are you drunk?

Angel <3:

Jst a litle bit hahahaahah

Harry:

Are you safe?

Angel <3:

yea, wit Emma xx txt tommrw

Harry sighed heavily as he rubbed his temples, tossing his phone on the bed beside him. He closed his eyes as he tried to soothe the impending headache as best as he could. He knew he shouldn’t think like this, but he sometimes can’t help but get angry with her; they never get time to talk, and the only time he can call her, she’s out drinking with her friends. It’s wrong and he’s being unfair, of course he knows. He’s just… he feels defeated. And left out. She feels so far away, and he’s sad he can’t be there with her. Why is she drinking? Is she celebrating something? Did she pass her exam? He doesn’t even know. He didn’t even ask, really. Because he was on The Late Late Show in the morning and was already performing with the band by the evening.

So he’s aware it’s his fault, but at the moment, he just feels like being angry at her. He’ll feel guilty in the morning, and he’ll try not to think about her like that ever again, but tonight… he allows himself the feeling.

He feels sick to his stomach when he realises he doesn’t even know who Emma is. He’s been away so long she made new friends he never got to meet.

-

Harry:

I wish you were here.

Harry knows this relationship isn’t going to work. He knows it deep in his heart, the feeling has been growing deep in his belly ever since he auditioned on xfactor, and if he was a better person he would end it.

He would take his brand new (very expensive) phone, digit the number he knows by heart and just… end it.

Dump her, to say it as straight as it is.

But he can’t.

He knows it’s what’s best for the both of them, he can tell she wants to move on, enjoy life with her friends, be loved by someone who could show his love by being present, but he is too selfish to do that.

The mere thought of her with someone else kills him, makes him sick to his stomach. So what does he do instead? He looks for her in every face in the crowd, in every person he meets (and there’s a lot).

Incoming: FaceTime call.

From: Angel <3

“Hi, H” YN whispers softly as soon as he answers the call.

“Hi angel.”

“I missed you, feel like I haven’t seen y’re face in ages”

“I know”, he clears his throat awkwardly, unsure on what to tell her, “still the same pretty face” he jokes.

“No, you look…” Harry can see her furrow her brows down to the middle, “you look different… older”.

What she really wants to say is he looks… glowier? Like someone who slept for twelve hours or someone who just came back from a ten days vacation at an all inclusive resort.

It’s weird, seeing him like this, he sort of lost his edgier and childlike state.

He looks more mature, yes, but also more polished. His once fluffy and untamed hair look shiny and… styled? He certainly has hairdressers, because YN saw it from an instagram post, but she thought it was like a one time thing… not a recurring one.

She feels kind of out of place, in front of this boy - guy, more like - she hasn’t seen in six weeks.

She finds it hard to remember it’s still her Harry.

She wonders how many things he saw in these six weeks, how many things he did without her, how many new places he discovered without sharing it with her, without making her a part of it.

The awkward energy isn’t lost on both parts, and if YN isn’t afraid to show it, Harry tries all he can to keep the conversation normal. He won’t give up.

“You look beautiful as ever” he says with a grin, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

She only partially breaks in a smile, because she doesn’t want him to feel bad.

It’s not him, entirely, it’s them… it’s them as a whole.

“Everyday gets harder to stay away from you” he reiterates, “but I’ll see you soon, okay? At your birthday?”

“Yeah… okay” she gulps, her hands playing nervously with a stray thread coming off of her cream sweater.

“Soon. I promise.”

She nods and pretends she believes him.

The conversation only lasts for a couple of minutes, their hours long calls are just a memory by now, and she asks a couple of questions to pretend everything is fine and not alarm him.

But she knows he can feel something shifted between them, because nothing is as once was.

-

“I think we should head inside, love” Anne kindly said, placing a gentle and comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No” YN shook her head firmly, in her stomach a nauseous feeling was tingling her insides; she tried to defend him with everything she could: “he can’t. He promised he’d be here. He’s coming. I know he is”

“Okay” Anne murmured, as she threw a wary look in Gemma’s direction, “let’s just wait a little bit more.”

“Yes!” Gemma agreed, “maybe his flight is late…?” She suggested, albeit with little conviction.

YN nodded her head absentmindedly, her gaze lost in the pinkness of the sky extending before her.

She had wanted to wait for his arrival to cut the cake, refusing Gemma’s offer (more like plea) to at least light up the candles to sing her happy birthday, so everyone was starving and YN had the strange feeling they were all upset. With her or with Harry she didn’t really know.

It’s not like she blamed them, the scene presented in front of them (YN waiting all day for Harry who didn’t even call to tell her he wasn’t coming; YN refusing to invite her friends because she wanted it to be just close family and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with her boyfriend) was pathetic as it was already.

She really didn’t think Harry had it in him to miss her birthday.

Everything YN could really think of was how thankful she was it was just her, Anne and Gemma. What would have happened if she had invited more people? She would have ended up looking like the fool who gets stood up at her own birthday by her own boyfriend.

They had been waiting since lunch time and it was already sunset, the now orange sky a dreadful reminder of how much time was passing and how late it was getting.

In her heart, buried deep under her hope, she knew he wasn’t coming. She knew his flight wasn’t late because he never boarded it in the first place, breaking the promise he’d made her that he’d be there for her birthday.

She tried to think about a birthday she passed without Harry, but nothing came to mind. Ever since they started dating, he’d always be there celebrating with her and making her happy on what is supposed to be a day all about her.

She tried to think how much she was willing to wait, she didn’t want to encounter in the possibility of having to wait until late night, but she knew that if she didn’t give herself an ultimatum she never would have stopped waiting for him.

“YN…” Anne interrupted her train of thoughts, once it started to get a bit chilly in the garden and the humidity was starting to get uncomfortable.

“I know.” YN interrupted her briefly, trying not to pay too much attention to the way her eyes were starting to tingle a bit, the humiliation being so bad it was starting to grow inside her like a balloon waiting to pop, “it’s okay.” She nodded, reassuring Anne, but maybe herself too - a little bit.

She shifted her gaze to Gemma, who frowned at the look on her face, “it’s okay.” She repeated, “I knew he wasn’t coming, after all, I knew.”

She could feel their eyes on her as she brought a hand up to her chest, hoping that maybe the warmth could soothe her aching heart; but nothing about her was warm.

She actually felt really cold, her hand on her chest only accentuated her panic and humiliation as she could hear her heart beat fast against her chest cage.

“I am so sorry” Anne said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly,

“We’re certainly not leaving him any cake” Gemma joked, but her humour fell on deaf ears, because neither YN nor Anne laughed. In Anne’s opinion, there wasn’t anything to laugh about, and in YN’s… well, she wasn’t really paying any attention to her surroundings.

“Let’s go inside, love” Anne repeated once again, but this time YN nodded and got up from her chair.

She inhaled a little before heading towards the door.

Once she was inside, she felt the warm air hit her cheeks, and the sweet smell of the cake cooling off in the oven invaded her nostrils.

The cozy ambience was becoming kind of overwhelming, and she wished she could just close her eyes and be out of that damn house. The house where she spent all her best days with her boyfriend. Was he even her boyfriend anymore?

She felt sick to her stomach thinking those kinds of thoughts, but how couldn’t she? There weren’t many things she cared about like she cared about birthdays, and Harry knew it all too well.

“I think I’ll just head home…” she sighed, a heavy weight on her chest was making it harder and harder to breathe.

“Don’t you want to stay? We could eat some cake and…”

“No” she shook her head forcefully, “I just need to go home, I have to wake up early tomorrow”.

“Okay, love. I’m…” Anne began saying, but she stopped herself. There weren’t many words to say to excuse her son’s behaviour.

“Just… drive safe, okay?”

-

YN felt very alone as she laid in her bed that night; it wasn’t later than 9pm, way too early for her bedtime, but she really didn’t care, at that point she’d do whatever worked to make the day end sooner.

What was worse (if there even was something worse) was that her phone hadn’t rang one time since she’d arrived home, and that meant not only Harry hadn’t shown up to her birthday lunch, but he didn’t even feel guilty about it.

That was everything she needed to know.

She’d always been convinced chasing dreams couldn’t be harmful in anyway, and maybe for Harry it hadn’t been… but for her? What about her? Was she selfish for getting in the way of his dream of a life time?

All these questions ran through her head, a sharp pain growing behind her eyes from keeping in the tears for too long. They spiked against her eyes but she refused to let them fall, she had cried too long for him. This was really all she could do, but without even realising, she had started crying long before even getting in bed.

“Stop it” she condemned herself, pressing the tips of her fingers on her eyelids to dry the tears. “Just stop” she sobbed against her hands.

She doesn’t know for how long she laid there, and at some point she thinks she eventually stopped crying, too exhausted to let anything else out.

Before succumbing to a what she knew would be a troubled sleep, she grabbed her phone and typed a message quickly.

It read: we’re over.

-

When YN sent that text, she knew they weren’t over. They never could be, not without talking it out at first, and Harry… well he’s very stubborn, and at first, it was a quality she liked about him, but when he started calling her back to back until she answered, she reevaluated that.

Text from: Harry

I won’t stop calling until you answer the phone

I’m not joking, YN

Answer

We’re not over

Are we?

We can’t be

You can’t leave me like that

Answer the phone please

I can explain

It took her two days to call him. Two days of uninterrupted messages, two days of tears and an ache in her chest she tried to get rid of by eating tons of ice cream.

Her finger had lingered a while on the green call button before pressing it, but it only took him two rings to answer.

“YN…” he started, and he sort of sounded relieved, she has to admit that.

Like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Stop pestering me with all those messages.” She said firmly, “I don’t want to talk to you”.

“YN” he sighed once again, “please let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Harry! You missed my birthday” she said, and she tried really hard to keep her voice from breaking, but it didn’t really work.

“I know.” He said firmly, “my phone broke, I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to reach you… and by the time I got a new one, I had a concert and I couldn’t… you don’t know how these things work YN, I can’t just drop everything and run to you”.

She felt his words like a bullet piercing through her chest, “you’re right, I don’t know how these things work, but I still deserve to be treated with respect”

“I know. I know you do”.

Sometimes YN wishes Harry had never auditioned for xfactor in the first place. She knows it’s selfish but she doesn’t care. If that makes her a bad person, so be it.

If he’d never auditioned they wouldn’t be here, and she wouldn’t have to beg him for the respect he’d always showed her in the past.

“We really tried to make this work, Harry” she said in a soft voice, at this point all she could feel was defeat.

The whole situation was simply too hurtful to keep going.

“No. Stop. Don’t talk like that.” He’s quick to reply, and she could hear him get up from the bed she supposed he was sitting on.

“You missed my birthday! What am I supposed to say?”

“Enough with this birthday! I explained how things went already. You can’t just leave me like that for a single mistake”.

“But it’s not just the birthday! it’s… everything” she snapped, tired of him dragging a situation that’s been difficult long before he missed her birthday.

“Everything? You’re being unfair, YN. I tried with all I could to be present”

“But you didn’t! You never call, you’re always busy doing god knows what! -

“I’m working, YN, what do you think!” He interrupted her, but she started again with a scoff.

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore, H… buying fancy cars, hanging out with models… what? am I not enough for you anymore? Is that it? If you want out, why don’t you tell me? Why don’t you leave me?”

At that point she was certain she was crying, she could feel the warm tears streaming down her cheeks, but, in the confines of her home, she didn’t really care. Plus, it’s not like Harry hadn’t really seen her cry before.

She cried when she got her first A in maths Harry helped her study for (she had studied really hard), she cried in his arms all night when her childhood dog died (he had died an happy death at 16 years old, but still, it didn’t dull the pain), she cried to him when a mean guy called her four eyes in middle school and Harry had threatened to beat the shit out of him (she realised she loved him then), and she cried with him when he received the call he’d been selected to audition on xfactor.

All these times she’d cried, he had always been there to console her, comfort her, rubbing her back, holding her close to his chest, caressing her face with his soft hands. Where was he now, then? Why, after she threatened to end their relationship, he didn’t drop everything and hop on the first flight home? Why was she crying alone in her room?

A beat passed before he answered, and she wondered if he’s mustering up the courage to leave her. To finally do it. She hoped he would, quick and painless.

“I don’t want to leave you, even if it hurts, okay? You think it doesn’t pain me hearing you cry and not being there? It does. But I won’t give up on us. Even if it hurts, I’m not giving up. Are you?”

“I don’t know” she started, uncertain on what to say.

“No, you know, you know you love me. You do love me, right?”

“Of course I do” she reiterated, sniffling with her nose.

“That’s all that matters. We’ll get through this, I swear.”

It took a little bit more of convincing until YN finally gave in. She didn’t know how long this would go on for, how long they could make it last before going off like a grenade and destroying everything around them.

All she knew is this time, he didn’t even promise he’d come back to her soon. What did it mean? Is something not said as important as what was actually said?

-

After six months he’s been away, YN realises she should have left him that night. She would have saved herself so many missed calls, broken lines, fights and once again, tears.

Her desire to keep watering a dead plant ruined everything in the end.

She wanted out the very first moment he started missing her calls, she wanted to end it, and had she done it, by now she’d be somewhat partially healed, hanging out with her friends, checking his profile maybe once a week when she was really drunk.

But no.

These six months without him only alienated her and hurt her, and she’s finally mustered up the courage to leave him like she intended to.

It’s not a threat this time, as she tries to find the best words to leave him with.

She’s typing her message when her phone screen turns black for a fraction of a second and then his picture invades the screen.

Call from: Harry

“YN” he breathes out, not even letting her say hi to him, “I’m coming home. They told us today, I’m coming home.” he repeats, so many times he doesn’t even let her process this new information.

She doesn’t say anything, the words she has longed to hear for a long time now seem dull, like a cruel joke she doesn’t understand.

“You’re coming home?” She gulps, trying to steady her racing heart.

“Yes!” He exclaims, and then he proceeds to explain the logistics of his trip back home, how all the guys had begged for some time off and how the label finally agreed on two weeks of rest.

All YN can think about is how this is all too overwhelming to understand.

It’s been six months since she’s seen him.

How will it feel? Seeing him again after so long? Touching him? She feels like she doesn’t really know him anymore. So many things he did without her, so many people he met she doesn’t know and she will never be introduced to, so many new songs written, some that aren’t even about her.

So he woke up early and put together her favourite breakfast for her. Something to cheer her up the first thing in the morning. YN was still sleeping in so he decided to go wake her up.

"Hey baby, you wanna wake up?" He sat down on the edge of their bed so he can lean over and kiss her forehead. "It's already half past eleven."

"Hmm?" She sounded half asleep.

"You wanna wake up?" Harry asked again.

"Hmm!" She nodded.

"I made you breakfast, will wait for you in kitchen." He pressed another kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you!" She yawned, and hugged him tight.

"You good, my love?" He asked, caressing her back.

"I am, I am." She assured him though he isn't quite assured.

Harry let her do her thing, giving her space so she can go upto him and talk about it. He busied himself with breakfast duty.

"Good morning, baby!" He sang in a cheery tone seeing his fiancé. Her hair was damp and she had already gotten back into her pajamas.

"Morning." She smiled. Or at least tried to.

"What's wrong, darling?" He enquired finally.

"Nothing really," she shrugged and helped him take food out to the table.

"You still want to go see the new houses later on today baby?" He asked as they both sat down.

"Yeah."

"Hey, I can see something is wrong. Just tell me, please!" He pulled his chair closer to hers.

"Can we like, uhhhh, like uninvite my parents and especially my grandmother from the wedding? I, I, I just want it to be my brother, his wife and their kids." She shared. Harry could see the tears pooling up in her eyes.

"You want to tell me what happened, love?" He somehow found a way to move closer to her.

"I shouldn't have asked my mum and grandma to come along. I found a dress I liked, but she said it would look like she's going to my funeral not my wedding just 'cause it was white." Harry could see she was trying so hard not to start sobbing, her bottom lip quivered as she looked down, she is clearly so hurt by her grandma's statement.

"Hey, whatever she said must have been to spite you baby." He tried to console her, "if you don't them at our wedding we don't have to invite them, okay? I promise."

"I don't know why she hates me so much!" She sighed, "she talks bad about us too, I can't take that."

"You know, people are going to hate but we know the truth, right?" He took her hand to gesture her to sit on his lap so he can hug her, which she did. "What else did she say to get you so hurt, hmm?"

"She said why are you putting so much effort into this he's gonna leave you anyway..." And she started sobbing.

"You know you're not getting rid of me so easily, don't you?" He squeezed her tighter, "I am so sorry she said that, YN. And let me tell you, you're the best thing that's happened to me. While I know it's not going to be always rainbow and sunshine but I know we can beat the odds and just grow stronger. I don't know why she thinks I'd leave the love of my life, like ever, but what I do know is I love you and I wanna spend rest of my days with you as my partner. I love you too much!"

"I love you too!" She managed to say between her cries.

"You still want to get that white dress you love so much?" He asked.

"Mhmm."

"And you still wanna eat?"

"Yes, I am hungry." She nodded again. "I will just go wash my face."

"Yeah, you do that baby, but hurry up your food it getting cold." He placed a soft kiss on the apple of her cheek.

The rest of the morning YN spent sulking around though she did eat her food. She even took a big fat nap on the sofa while watching her favourite series on Netflix. Harry did not bother her, he in fact cancelled their appointment with the realtor and scheduled it for the next day. He is instead going to take her out dinner tonight.

Now he doesn't know if that's all that happened or did her but she made sure not to take her grandmother to the next appointment for dress shopping.

He shook his head, setting the tray down on the nightstand. "Of course I did. You're sick as a dog, babe." Harry perched on the edge of the bed, his hand coming up to brush her sweat-damp hair back from her forehead. "Looks like that nasty flu is really doing a number on you."

Y/N managed a weak smile, nuzzling into his touch. "I feel horrible."

"I know, sweetheart." Harry's thumb stroked her flushed cheek tenderly. "But I'm going to take care of you, okay? We'll get you feeling better in no time."

Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to her clammy forehead before reaching for the mug of tea. "Here, drink some of this. The honey should help soothe your throat."

Y/N took a careful sip, the warm liquid coating her raw throat. She sighed in relief. "That's nice. Thank you, Haz."

"Of course, my love." Harry picked up a piece of dry toast from the tray. "Think you can manage a few bites? You need to keep your strength up."

Obediently, Y/N nibbled on the toast as Harry fussed over plumping up her pillows and layering an extra blanket over her shivering form. He clucked his tongue sympathetically at her pale, clammy appearance.

"I've got some cold medicine for you to take too. That should help with the aches and chills."

True to his word, Harry retrieved a dose of flu medication, holding it out along with a glass of cool water. Y/N swallowed it down gratefully.

"Such a good girl," Harry praised, stroking her hair again. "Now, I want you to try and get some more rest, okay? I'll be just down the hall if you need anything at all."

Y/N caught his hand as he made to stand. "Wait... Could you stay with me for a bit?"

Harry's eyes softened. "Of course, darling. Budge over." 

He slid under the covers, gathering Y/N's shivering form into his arms. She burrowed against his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne and letting it soothe her frazzled senses.

Harry pressed a kiss to her hair, rubbing her back soothingly. "Just relax and rest up, okay? I'm right here."

Y/N nodded, allowing her eyes to drift shut. She felt so safe and cared for wrapped in Harry's embrace. Despite feeling utterly miserable from her illness, having him there to look after her made it so much better.

Several hours later, she awoke feeling marginally less feverish - though her head was still pounding. Harry stirred beside her, ever attentive.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N sniffled pitifully. "A little better, I think. But my head is killing me."

"Hang on, let me get you a cool cloth for your forehead." In a flash, Harry was out of bed and heading for the en-suite bathroom.

He returned with a damp washcloth, gently draping it over Y/N's feverish brow. She sighed in relief at the delicious coolness against her pounding head.

"Thank you, baby. That feels heavenly."

Harry smiled, tenderly brushing her hair back. "I love taking care of my best girl. Are you hungry at all? I could whip up some chicken soup."

At the thought of food, Y/N's stomach roiled queasily. "Maybe just some more tea and dry toast for now?"

"You got it." Harry leaned in, dropping a featherlight kiss on her chapped lips. "I'll be right back with your tea, sweet thing."

True to his word, Harry returned a few minutes later with a fresh mug of piping hot tea and a couple pieces of dry buttered toast. He helped Y/N sit up against the mountain of pillows before passing her the mug.

"Careful, it's hot," he cautioned unnecessarily.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. "Yes, Dad."

Harry chuckled, taking a seat next to her on the bed and offering her a piece of toast. As she picked at the bread, he pulled her feet into his lap, gently massaging the soles.

"Mmm," Y/N hummed in appreciation. "You're too good to me."

"Nonsense. I'm just being a good boyfriend and taking care of my girl when she needs me." Harry winked playfully. "Afterall, I'll need you to return the favor when I inevitably catch this flu from you."

Y/N laughed weakly. "Deal."

For the rest of the day, Harry fussed over Y/N - keeping her hydrated, fetching her books and magazines to read, and just sitting by her side with his arms wrapped securely around her. She couldn't have asked for a better nurse.

As evening fell, Harry brought Y/N a fresh mug of hot tea, laced with honey and lemon. "Here, drink up. Should help that scratchy throat of yours."

"You're too good to me," Y/N said again, cradling the mug gratefully.

Harry shook his head seriously. "Never. You deserve the world, my love." He leaned in, kissing her forehead tenderly. "I'm just trying to give it to you."

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