#harrystyleswriting

The pair of you were only meant to be out for a couple of hours. A nice, quiet and romantic meal together was the original plan, the night ending with you two heading home and falling asleep all cuddled up in bed well before midnight. 

However, at the sight of a neon karaoke sign, other arrangements were quickly made. Neither of you can just idly walk by a karaoke bar. You both love them too much, hence now being mortal messes at almost sunrise.

You reach for his arm, but end up grabbing the fridge handle instead — funny how that happens — and start to think about food. You pull it open, your back facing Harry, the view inside glorious.  

“Fuck, I’m so hungry.” You moan, eyes scanning over the items trying to decide on what to choose, “I’m making something to eat.”

The feeling of large, soft hands smoothing across your belly catches you by welcome surprise, your body melting against Harry’s now pressed against you from behind. His arms wrap around your waist. Chin on your shoulder. Facial hair tickling your cheek. 

 “I know what I want to eat.” He hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, “Gimme a bit of you, darling. Just a little taste.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, even though his velvet voice and teasing touch has the existence of butterflies going bananas in both your stomach and between your legs, “Nice try. That slick tongue isn’t working its magic on me tonight.”

“It could if you asked nicely.” He says, burying his face against the crook of your shoulder, inhaling you, his dopey drunken grin felt against your skin, “I’ll treat you real good. I always treat you real go-”

“Cake!” You yell out, the two-tiered chocolatey goodness stealing your attention despite Harry’s best efforts to keep it, “Fuckin’ score!”

“‘M glad someone’s scorin’ tonight.” He laughs against you as you reach for the plate, a kiss pressed to your temple as he slips his hands away.

You turn around, finding him playfully pouting. The puppy dog eyes are out as he retreats to lean against the kitchen island, one foot crossing over the other once there. 

Harry nudges his chin toward the cake, then nods his head for you to come closer, “If I’m not getting a slice of you, you can gimme a slice of that.”

“Make me.”

Parroting his previous words while mirroring the grin he wore when he said them makes him raise a brow, and his lips pucker at your insolence. It sends a shiver through your drunk self, the kind that suddenly makes you want to rip his clothes off and jump his bones. You’re a woman of many talents, as your love likes to say, and the best one is your ability to change mood in an instant. You can go from hungry to horny in the blink of an eye.

Harry doesn’t say a thing, but he does amble over to a kitchen cabinet for a bottle of whiskey. He grabs a shot glass, pours himself a measure, and necks it with ease before he’s back to grinning at you while walking to lean against the island again.

You simply gawk at him for how hot all of that was. You’ve seen him do a hundred shots over the years, but you'll never not turn into mush watching it happen. The way his large, veiny hand makes the tiny glass look even tinier. How his head tosses back. Jaw tenses. Throat bobs. No wince. Just a gasp of pure delight.

“You’ve got until I get to the count of three to bring your cute, bratty ass here.”

His threat brings a stop to your dizzy daydreaming moment, launching you back into the now where you were acting up. Your parted mouth bends into a smirk. Heart beating hard beats harder some more.

“Or what?” You ask, head tilted. Tongue tauntingly running over your bottom lip, “You gonna smack it?”

Harry lets his other brow rise too, a smirk on his lips now, “One…”

“Ooo, he’s counting.”

You watch him try not to laugh, determined to keep his cool, “Two…”

“I think we’re safe, Cakey. He doesn’t know what comes after two.” You whisper to the plated pudding in your hands.

Another laugh stifled, his bunny teeth on display as he tucks his bottom lip behind it to stop the sound from coming out, “Three.” 

And you haven’t moved an inch, except for your smirk. That’s wider now. You grin so hard that if you weren’t wasted, and your face wasn’t numb from all the alcohol, it would ache. Wind-up mode that you know Harry loves so much fully activated.

He shakes his head slowly, kissing his teeth, “You’re in for it now.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

And then you’re off. You feign moving to the left, going to the right instead, but Harry knew that was coming. He knows you like the back of his hand.

He uses both of his to swoop you up from the ground as you try to dart past him. Your back is now pressed to his front, belly aching and shaking with laughter held by his strong arms, and legs kicking out in playful protest.

The next thing you know, you’re both on the floor. Harry on his backside, and you between his legs. Two thuds and two ouches, but you aren’t the only ones.

A third thud. No ouch. The cake that hits the ground too can’t talk, obviously.

“NO!” You both yell simultaneously soap opera style, looking at the cake face down and splattered across the tiled floor. Thankfully it’s on a paper plate, so that isn’t smashed. Unlike like the two of you.

Silence follows, the pair of you grieving the loss. You loved that cake. You and that cake could have had a good life together.

“I actually think I might cry.” You mumble, head shaking in disbelief, “A dead dessert, ‘n I think I’ve just broken my arse too. I should’ve just let you smack it. At least that’s a fun pain.”

Your focus on the pudding becomes obscured, because Harry has crawled to sit before you. His hands cup your face, and he’s frowning adorably. You’re almost certain you can see tears brimming in his pretty green doe eyes.

“I’m so sorry, flower. ‘S all my fault.” He presses a kiss to your lips in haste, then another. Then another. Then one more for good measure, “‘M gonna make it right, ‘kay?”

You’re not given a second to tell Harry that he doesn’t need to apologise, that it’s not his fault and there’s nothing to make right (it’s just cake at the end of the day, even though you’re now craving it more than ever), because the next thing you know, he’s on his feet. Then he’s stumbling towards the cupboards. And finally, he’s opening them all up, pulling out random things as he goes.

“Baby, what are you doing?” You ask with a light, confused-sounding laugh, pulling yourself up to stand, but wincing as you do. The ache in your backside is strong. Clearly the booze is starting to wear off. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have a second heartbeat there.

Setting everything down on the counter, he casts you a smile over his shoulder that shrugs nonchalantly, “Baking you a cake.”

“You are not!” You laugh again, louder and no longer confused, while walking toward him, “Harry, I love you soooo much, and I appreciate you so much too, but you’re not baking at four in the bloody morning!”

“Why not?” He huffs, turning around and draping his arms over your shoulders with a toothy smile, “‘S the best time to bake. The shop opens soon.”

“You worked at a bakery for one summer and you can’t let it go.” You giggle again, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around his waist. This man… “Where’d I find you, huh? You’re an absolute riot, and I’d like to return.”

“No returns, no exchanges. That was the policy you unknowingly agreed to, and the boyfriend store is closed for good now.” Harry tells you matter-of-factly, more laughter pouring from you at his cheeky, charming ways, “Sorry, darling, but you’re stuck with me.”

“Pity. I was wanting an upgrade.”

His jaw drops, a shocked laugh scoffed out, “And to think I was gonna bake a cake for you! It’s you that needs to apologise to me now!”

“Mm, and how can I do that?” You tease, fingers now mindlessly playing with the waistband of his bottle green slacks at the base of his spine, the fabric of his sage green silk shirt tucked into them so soothing, “A kiss?”

He shakes his head, mischief in his eyes as he looks at your own that are filled with the same emotion. You know what he’s about to say, and you’re now more than ready and happy to give him what he wants, because it’s what you want, too. If you can’t have cake, you’ll have him, although you’ll always want him more than chocolate. That’s how you knew it was real love.

“A dance.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise at his request, which makes Harry chuckle. You weren’t expecting that, but you’re not mad about it. Not one bit.

Nudging his chin your way once more, he gives you a smirk, “C’mon, flower. Dance with me?”

You’ll never miss an opportunity to dance with Harry. It’s one of your favourite things to do. To be in his arms either sober, tipsy or drunk, and spin and sway around a room while he murmur sings in your ear a song that isn’t playing is the closest thing to heaven on earth. 

You don’t need the music at all. His voice is that and more. He knows you love it when he takes breaks between lyrics to tell you how much he loves you, sentiments you reciprocate just as fast and fondly, or to press sweet kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks and lips. You kiss him back just as many times.

So you accept his request – after sinking a shot of whiskey to stay on his level of drunkenness. That earned you a whistle and a cheer from him, which made you blush, roll your eyes and grin giddily before you fell back into his arms again. 

You’re both still buzzed from the buckets of booze necked tonight, but it’s easing off a little despite the whiskey refreshers. You can tell that Harry is turning just tipsy now from the way his cheeks have shifted from rosy red to perfect peach, and the fact he’s standing on your toes less and less with every step he takes as throughout the kitchen dance. You can tell you’re turning just tipsy now from picking up on the colour difference in his skin, and the fact you’re standing on his toes less and less with every step you take throughout the kitchen dance as well.

The sunrise is already starting to happen given its summer, its dreamy light gold glow casting through the large windows. It shows off the slight reddish tint that runs through Harry’s cropped curls, rays of it around his head like a halo, which makes sense. He is an angel, after all. Yours.

Against your palms, you can feel the ridges of his back muscles through the bottle green blazer that matches his slacks. Your torso pressed against his graced by the contours of his pecs and abs through his shirt. He’s somehow both hard and soft, a juxtaposition that will never not make you dizzy. That you’ll never not love. You always feel so safe in his arms, because they’re home. Harry is home.

And while the moment between you is loving and sweet, you can still feel a different vibe emanating, one that started off before cakegate and continued a little just after. You know he can feel it, too. You can tell by the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the dessert.

It’s why you give him a bright smile while eyeing him up, head cocked to the left, “You still wanna treat me real good, baby? Still fancying a little taste of me?”

And just like that, one dance ends and another begins, an answer given by Harry in the form of lifting you up for a second time tonight. You squeal in delighted surprise, your feet gone from the ground, and backside meeting the marbled kitchen island countertop. 

He grins, slotting himself between your thighs, hands leaving your hips to cup your face. You’re breathless from the moves. From the man. From the moment.

His mouth meeting yours steals what little breath you had left, and it’s a startling shift from the delicate dancing you were just doing, because there is no delicacy now. The way he kisses you is hot and heavy, an energy you match effortlessly.

The embrace is all fast lips, clashing teeth, entwining tongues and loud moans. Your hands in his hair. His cradling your jaw, tipping your head back to dominate your mouth.

You tug at his roots and give him bottom lip a quick nip, the most salacious sound rattling in his throat following. It makes you grin, the expression aching your face that’s burning up in bliss.

He pulls back, your eyes opening to find his blown out. Harry rakes them all over your expression as yours do the same to his. He looks as hot and bothered as you feel, with a glossy, swollen mouth stretched into a smirk.

“How’s your ass?”

You chuckle at his question, “Could use a little lovin’. How’s yours? It didn’t half take a hit as well.”

“It’s been hit harder, or don’t you remember?” He grins, his nose now running along the length of your own while you clench around nothing at the memory he’s just evoked in your mind, “‘M fine, though. Want me to kiss yours better?”

Shaking your head, you use your hold in his hair to tug him, hinting, “Kiss somewhere else first.”

His eyes widen a little, hands dropping from your face to splay against the marble by your hips as he tuts, “Where’s your manners, huh? You’re usually so polite.”

“Please, Harry.” You coo as sweet as sugar, leaning forward with fluttering lashes while nudging the tip of his nose with the tip of your own, “Be a good boy and eat my pussy.”

Another groan from him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head for a hot second before he’s recalibrated, sights set on you and grin wide, “Now was that so hard?”

“No. But you are.” You tease, his erection straining against his slacks felt against your centre, “Get to work, baby. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you come too.”

Within a second, your back is flat against the countertop. Harry gently nudged you to lie before sinking to his knees between your thighs, with you giggling as he did.

Those heighten now as he tugs you to the edge of the surface. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look down at him to find him already looking up at you. Lazy smiles decorate both of your faces, his hands under your dress making hasty work of pulling your panties down.

“Someone’s needy tonight.” You tease, lifting your hips to help him out. 

Harry tosses the fabric over his shoulder, your legs draped over them as he stands tall on his knees with his face level with your cunt, “For you, my love? Always.”

And without hesitating a second longer, he pushes your thighs further apart, and dives forward to taste you. All movements fast. Desperate. Like a man possessed. 

His wet tongue slowly licks up through your equally wet slit, hums of satisfaction sounding out from him as he tastes you. Breathes you in. You shudder and shake already, head tossing back and smile wide while panting hard.

But the feeling of his lips wrapping around your clit that he starts to suck makes your chin meet your chest, your blurry vision blinked clear to take in the sexy sight of him. He’s smirking as he works, which turns you on as much as his mouth does. Harry’s face between your legs, mouth on your cunt and nose pressed firmly against you will never not be absolutely stunning. Especially when he looks so damn pleased with himself. 

You give him a grin, a hand leaving the surface to hold the back of his head, “You’re doing so good, baby. Keep going for me, yeah?”

He nods and hums, the movement and his moustache tickling you, and the sound vibrating through. Both things only add to the pleasure you feel, something you know he’s experiencing, too. He loves eating you out, an expert in the art of it, and he loves praise. Calling Harry a good boy and telling him he’s doing a wonderful job is his kryptonite. 

It also spurs him on. He’s still sucking on your throbbing clit, but now the tip of his tongue moves against it in fast flicks as well. The wet sounds of your cunt that he feasts on harmonise with your moans, your fingers knitted in his hair holding him in place against you. Not that he plans on leaving. Harry won’t let himself go anywhere until you’ve had your orgasm, and he’s got the proof of it all over his lips and chin.

His palms were stroking up and down your trembling thighs, but now they splay across your stomach. Fingers linking, he presses down to keep you in place. He’s eating you out like you’re his last meal, the speed of his tongue quickening. The desperation he feels heightening. 

All of his movements make it harder for you to breathe, see, think, and you definitely can’t speak a full sentence anymore. Nothing but broken moans and his name whimpered leave your lips that are still pulled into a grin of pure euphoria; his own also felt against your cunt. 

The knot in your stomach comes closer to unravelling with every suck and lick Harry gives your throbbing clit, a feeling that only grows more intense now that he’s brought his right hand down to your dripping hole and slipped his index and middle fingers inside of your pussy. Knuckle deep, with the cool metal of his rings kissing your skin, he pumps them in and out of you fast, curling them in that perfect way to hit that sweet spot.

The sounds of your arousal around his digits is obscene. Pornographic. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter, and you’re gasping for air, with tears stinging your eyes. Your brain feels fuzzy. Body turned to jelly. 

“Fuck- H! Faster, baby, please.” You manage to moan out the most coherent sentence for a while, nodding deliriously next, “I’m so close!”

And he does what he’s told, because he always does what he’s told when you’re the one telling him to do it. Harry’s fingers fuck you faster, and the speed of his tongue goes quicker than ever. 

It’s only seconds later that you’re coming, thighs tensing hard around his head. Toes cramping so fiercely it physically hurts. Stars seen behind your screwed shut eyes making all of the pleasurable pain even more worthwhile. Arousal gushing from you coating his tongue and fingers in such a high quantity that you feel drained. 

He now lightly laps against you, catching every bit of release you give him, his whimpers garbled and grin still wide. You’re huffing and puffing, fingers sore from gripping his hair so hard. The rest of you feels liquified. Light. Loved. 

Now spent, your high something he rode you through and enjoyed every drop of, Harry pulls his fingers out while pressing soft and sweet kisses all over your core. It makes you smile, aftershocks of your orgasm causing the occasional shudder. Your hand stroke through his hair while his palms are back to running up and down your thighs. 

Once your breathing is back to somewhat regulated, he pulls back. Your legs over his shoulders manoeuvred to wrap around his waist as he stands tall. His face all flushed inches toward yours, the smell of you on his breath so sweet. Such a turn on. Harry wears your come like lip gloss, a good helping of it soaking his moustache and stubbled chin. 

He grins, nose brushing against the length of yours, “How was that for treating you good, huh?” 

“You never miss.” You hum, grinning back. It’s true. You’re still waiting for your soul to return to your body. 

“Damn fuckin’ right I don’t.” 

You giggle, bringing both of your hands to link around his neck. Harry brings his right one to cup the front of your throat, the left the back of your head, teasing and tilting you just how he likes. How you like, too. 

“Open up that pretty mouth for me, darling.” 

You do just that, ready for what you know is about to come. Yours, mixed in with his saliva. 

Harry doesn’t disappoint. He spits straight into your mouth, and then he’s slamming his against it. The kiss is deep. Sloppy. You can taste yourself all over his tongue, your tongue, and it’s sending you into a frenzy. Recharging you with a desire for more pleasure despite just experiencing a healthy dose that almost wiped you out. 

He pulls his lips away, which makes you chase them, him, desperate for more. But Harry keeps you pinned in place with his grip on your throat and a tut. 

“Now who’s being needy?”

You pout, cunt throbbing again, “You complaining?”

“Not at all, flower.” 

Slipping his hand from the back of your head to your ponytail, he wraps it around his wrist and tugs. Your head tilts back fast, a sweet sting felt all over your scalp that makes you gasp and clench around nothing. 

“But you’ve had your good treatment.” He coos, peering down at you with piercing eyes and a pleased smirk, “I made you come so hard. So much. It’s my turn, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” You rush out breathlessly, any bratty response you might have previously given no longer an option. Harry’s got you so worked up again already. You need him now. Need him to do whatever the fuck he wants to you.

“Good girl.” He grins, letting go of your hair and nodding his head; a gesture for you to climb off of the countertop, “Bend over.”

With the help of his hands, you slide off of the surface, turn around and lie your torso flat against the cool marble with your hands either side of your head. You can feel Harry’s eyes glued to your backside, the gap he created to let you get into position now closed again, and his fingers pinching the hem of your dress slowly lifting it up to your hips.  

A low groan rattles in his chest, you bare ass now on show. His stare scorches. Drives you wild. Makes you squirm. 

Now his touch has the same effect. Harry, as soft as silk, skims his palms over the rounds of your ass, squeezing your cheeks. Spreading them a little, too. 

“Got a little bruise on your peach.” He hums, his feather-light yet feral touch on the tender area so soothing, “Can I kiss it better now?”

“Please do.”

And with that, he sinks to his knees for the second time tonight. His soft lips press a gentle kiss against the sore spot, but you know he won’t stop there. 

With his hands on your hips and thumbs rubbing small circles, Harry trails his perfect lips up to the base of your spine, sweetly kissing each dimple that decorates the bottom of it. You smile, feeling wanted. Worshipped. You’re his deity, and he never misses a day of praying to you. 

Along with his mouth peppering kisses up your back, your dress bunched at your hips rises higher as well, with his fingers back to tugging the material up your body. You stand straight to help him rid the garment completely, the fabric tossed to the ground once off; one final kiss pressed to your temple. 

You stand completely naked, his hands quick to teasingly slide up your stomach and palm your tits. He cups and squeezes, toying with your nipples while nibbling your lobe. Your back arches, your chest pressed further into his touch and your ass against his rock solid cock, your head falling back against his shoulder as whine after whine tumbles from your mouth. 

“Your body drives me crazy. You drive me crazy. Love you so much.” Harry purrs, voice rugged and smirk evident. 

Your heart hammers hard, thighs squeezed together tightly to try and dull the throb in your pussy. But the way he’s playing with your tits and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while now grinding his length against your ass means nothing will help. Nothing except for him being inside you. 

“Love you so much, too.” Your response is breathy, the smile on your face bright, “No more teasing, baby. Give us what we both want.”

Harry presses a grinning kiss to the shell of your ear, his hands slipping away from your chest to where his cock grazes your backside. His fingers lightly nudge it as he unbuttons his slacks, a whimper and groan heard upon him pulling himself free from their confines. 

“Bend over again for me, flower.” He speaks, tone a little taut. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s speaking with a clenched jaw and gritted teeth in an attempt to remain composed.  

Within seconds of your naked torso meeting the cool countertop once more, he’s teasing your cunt with his tip. Dipping it in for a moment before pulling right back out. Over and over again until your fluttering pussy drips even more and you’re close to screaming at him to get on with it. Lovingly, of course. 

You can feel him smirking, smug at what he’s doing and how riled up he’s making you. Harry loves to tease, and as much as you tell him otherwise, you love it when he teases you. 

But he drops the wind-up act quicker than you anticipated, and as he gives you more than just the tip, you’re crying out in bliss. Harry has pushed forward fast. Filled you balls deep. His hips press against your ass, your cunt hugging his shaft. He cried out at the feeling, too.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

You put your arms behind you, hands blindly reaching out for his hips and nails biting when you find them, “And you’re so fucking big. God, H… you feel so good.”

Harry has a firm grip on your own hips, using them as leverage to pull out slowly, and push back in fast, hard, rough. The thrust punches the air from your lungs, a broken moan following. His breaths are all rugged, too. If you could see his face right now, you know that you’d find his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and that gorgeous, sloppy smile that you love so much.

“So wet. So warm.” He mumbles mindlessly, pulling out once more with a groan, his focus felt on where you both meet, “Wish you could see how fucking good we look together.”

You open your mouth to say something back, but you’re stopped with another fast, hard and rough thrust. And then another. And then another.

Harry gives you no chance to speak, or even collect your breath. He just screws you mercilessly, and all you can give him is whimpers. Each quick stroke winds you, his cock hitting that perfect spot just as perfectly every time. He’s so deep. Feels so dreamy. 

The slapping sounds of your slick skin and his balls smacking against your ass harmonises with his groans and your whines. You’re close to your climax already thanks to all of the teasing, how turned on you are and the first orgasm you experienced still partly rallying through you. You need another. And you need him to reach his first. 

You can tell that he’s close to coming already from the all but animalistic sounds he makes. From the way your name mixed with love confessions and profanities rolls off of his tongue unencumbered. From the way his hands have slackened their hold ever so slightly on your hips.

Swallowing hard and sucking in air, you open your wired-shut eyes and flick them to look over your shoulder, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?”

Harry, feeling your gaze, meets it, an apologetic expression worn as he nods and slows down his rhythm a fraction, “I’m sorry, darling. You just feel so good, ‘n I’m still a little bit drunk. You know I can never last long after a few too many.”

You giggle, which makes him grin, “‘M still a little drunk, too. ‘S okay, baby. Don’t be sorry and don’t slow down. I love how good I’m making you feel. How my cunt makes you come so quickly. Makes me feel so good.”

Pushing yourself up with your hands, you rest on them. He’s quickened his pace a little again, but you can tell he’s still hesitant to go full tilt. That he doesn’t want to come just yet. 

With your neck craned and eyes still on his, you flash him a cheeky smile, “Don’t be scared. Come inside me. Fill me up. Fuck it deep.”

Before you know it, you’re being hugged against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around it. Back flush against his muscled torso. Hands still on the countertop for extra support. His soft lips at your ear; breath and moustache tickling you. 

“You’re gonna kill me with that filthy fucking mouth of yours. You know that, right?”

“Good.” You smirk, his choppy breaths fanning down your neck in the most gorgeous way. 

He picks up his pace again, fucking up into you. The pair of you standing means he’s hitting even deeper than he was before, your arousal running past his length and down onto your thighs. Your moans louder than ever as his tip taps against your cervix which each delicious thrust. 

You grind against him. Clench around him. Your neck twisting a little further to catch a glimpse of him. The sight you find wettening you further of a furrowed brow, slack jaw and blown out eyes struggling to stay open. Harry looks so good. You love his beautiful face all of the time, but in the middle of sex is your favourite version. It’s so natural. So full of bliss.

“C’mon.” You start to urge him again, smirking as devilishly as you feel. As your thoughts. You know just what to say to get what you both want. Need, “Be a good boy and come for Mommy.”

The most spine-tingling whimper follows your dirty words, with Harry fucking you fast and hard until your legs threaten to give out. Until your hands can’t hold onto the countertop anymore and you have to rely solely on his arms hugging you to his body as support. Until your vision turns white as you screw your eyes shut and come hard, which triggers him to do the exact same.

You feel his come filling you up in quick and sharp spurts, his head dropping to the crook of your neck and groans soaking into your sweaty skin. Teeth grazing against it as he hunches up. Lips peppering sloppy kisses to it once he’s given you all he’s got and relaxed, and you’ve given him and done the same. 

What feels like hours, but is only really minutes, of you and Harry regaining your breaths and coming back to earth pass by before he’s carefully pulling out, tucking himself away and lifting you from the ground once more. You’re nothing but an exhausted and limp bag of bones, both of you chuckling quietly at the fact as he carries you to the guest bathroom to clean up. 

Once inside, Harry offers to help you out, but you tell him you’re good. He sets you down to stand, peppers your face in sleepy, sloppy kisses, tells you he loves you a dozen times, you tell him the same thing back just as many, and then he leaves you to it. 

After sorting yourself up, yawning all the way through the post-sex and pre-sleep routine of peeing, washing your hands and face, and brushing your teeth, you leave the bathroom, fully prepared to turn left and head upstairs. That’s where Harry will no doubt now be. 

But upon a cupboard closing sound coming from the right, the kitchen, you quickly realise he isn’t. He’s still in that room, and the thought of having to attempt wrangling his tipsy ass out of it again is almost enough to make you cry. You’re more than ready for bed now.

You’re still very much naked, but that doesn’t stop you from storming back into the kitchen like a woman on a mission, ready to scold. It’s got to be coming up for five a.m now. Why Harry has gone back to that room, you don’t know. 

The sight of his bare backside stops your footsteps dead, your jaw hitting the floor you’re frozen on. He was fully clothed when he left you in the bathroom, but now his suit has joined your dress; the different shades of green blending with black a heap on the floor. 

Your focus drifts from the pile, and also the dropped cake that still needs to be cleaned up, to his peachy behind, the tanned area taut and without blemish. Harry faces away from you, none the wiser to your presence. He’s busying himself with something at the counter. 

And what that is becomes apparent when your eyes skim up his muscled back, finding two bows knotted. One around his neat waist. The other around the nape of his neck. He’s wearing a goddamn apron. He’s fucking baking.

As though he could hear your thoughts and wanted to confirm them as fact, Harry turns around with a bright grin on his face, a silver mixing bowl cradled in the crook of his left arm, a wooden spoon in his right hand doing the mixing, and the beige pinny you gifted him one Christmas that reads ‘I’M KNEADY’ in bold, black lettering across it covering his torso.

“Worked up an appetite, so I’ve opened up the bakery.” He winks, voice still a little slurred. Whether that be from the booze, sex or fatigue, you don’t know, but you’re not mad about it, or at him. Not any more. Not ever, actually.

Instead, you grin back, giggle hard and walk toward the other apron hanging up on the peg, yours that reads ‘SOMEBODY KNEADS A HUG’. Harry bought you that the same year you bought him his; one of those moments where you just knew you were soulmates after gifting one another similar gifts without any inclination it would happen whatsoever. A pure coincidence. Or fate, as he would say.

You slip it on over your body, tying the ribbons as you saunter toward him. Harry beams at you, but he doesn’t seem surprised that you’re feeding into his silly antics. You love them. Love him.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, he sets down the mixing bowl and wraps his around yours. He presses a swift and cheeky kiss to the tip of your nose, you press one to his adorable dimple, and then you’re back to grinning at one another; exhaustion no longer felt. How much he loves you, how much you love him, gives you energy. Brings you life. 

“What kinda cake are we making?”

A lazy, cocky shrug from him and wicked glint in his gorgeous green eyes, “Whatever kind gets me called a good boy, and for you to dip into Mommy mode again.”

At that you laugh, shaking your head in a dizzy sort of way, and your cheeks flush rosy red. This man… he’s the one that’s going to kill you with his filthy mouth and mind that’s forever in the gutter, not the other way around.

You wouldn’t change a thing about Harry, though. Even when he’s being a drunk pain in the ass. You love every version more than anything else in the world.

(Y/N) was his everything. He never had a love like her before, and he had no intention of having another love ever. He was going to marry her. That was a cold hard fact.

“Harry,” she whimpered as she brought one of her hands back and behind her.

He knew what she wanted, and he gave it to her. Placing his large hand in hers, he intertwined their fingers - flexing his to give hers a soft squeeze.

“Feeling good, baby?” Harry’s chin rested against his chest as he looked down at where his thick cock entered his girlfriend.

(Y/N) just hummed in response, but that wasn’t enough for Harry. Propping one foot up on the mattress, he brought his freehand down and swatted at one of her ass cheeks. “You know that’s not going to cut it.”

Stopping his thrusts, he pulled out which caused (Y/N) to gasp, and she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes. She was flipped onto her back faster than she could blink.

Harry’s hands came down to her thighs, and he pushed them apart before plunging back inside of her with one fluid roll of his hips.

“Oh my god,” (Y/N) moaned with her eyes screwed shut. “You’re so fucking deep, H.”

Smirking to himself, Harry leaned down and scraped his teeth against his beautiful girlfriend’s jawline. “Do you like that, (Y/N)? Feeling me so deep in there?”

“Yes, yes,” she panted as he started pounding into her once more. “I love it when you’re this deep. I feel you all the way…all the way in here.”

Placing a hand over her lower stomach, (Y/N) pressed down - eliciting a groan from Harry and another mewl of pleasure from her with just how good that felt. 

(Y/N) was never properly fucked before, and Harry caught onto that by the first time they slept together. She made him work for it, something he didn’t mind doing by any means, but when the time actually came, he was seething at her past lovers at what he had seen. Sexy and confident (Y/N) had retreated into a shell of herself the moment he had her laid out on his mattress. She had asked him to turn almost all the lights off, and the ones that were left on had been turned down. She had asked that he not remove her bra, and that he just pull her panties to the side. It pained him to realize that she didn’t want him to see her fully naked.

That changed before Harry entered her that night. He took his time to kiss over every inch of her skin. To compliment every piece of her that he could see. He let her know that she was by far the prettiest thing he had ever seen in the world. The most beautiful woman to ever be in his bed. He made it clear that no one before her ever compared, and that no one ever would.

By the time he took her home the next morning, (Y/N) had allowed Harry to take her in four different positions, resulting in six orgasms total. It was obvious to both of them that they’d never get enough of each other just after that one night. 

“Squeezin’ my cock so tight. You’re gonna have me coming sooner than I want to,” Harry huffed out a laugh at himself, and it caused (Y/N) to also giggle. “But, fuck, honey, you just feel too damn good. Such a snug little thing.”

His words had (Y/N)’s cunt pulsing around him even more, and he could tell she was right on the edge of her orgasm. 

Sucking on the pad of his thumb, Harry brought it down to start rubbing precise circles against his girlfriend’s clit, and that had her arching her back off the bed.

“Holy shit,” she gasped - toes curling and fists clenching against the pale pink sheets surrounding them. “I’m about to cum.”

Harry watched as (Y/N) threw her head back which resulted in her pretty neck being completely exposed to him. He could feel her walls beginning to clamp down around him, and with one more deep thrust, her orgasm gushed around his length.

“Good girl,” he crooned, leaning down to kiss over (Y/N)’s collarbone. “Such a good girl f’me.”

Once she felt like the air had properly returned to her lungs, (Y/N) blinked her eyes open to stare at the gorgeous man above her.

“Fill me up, please,” she pouted her lips at him as she tapped her fingertips against the spot on her stomach that she had pressed down on earlier. “Right in here.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirked as he gripped onto her hips and angled them up just a little more. “Want it tucked up in there?”

“Mhmm,” (Y/N) hummed with a nod of her head. “I like it when it’s up there that far. It takes longer to drip out of me, and I like feeling it for as long as I can.”

(Y/N) could be dirty when she wanted to be, but he had never heard her say something like that to him before. Choking out a moan, Harry felt the warmth in his lower abdomen boil over, and before he could process it, he was shooting his load inside her slick pussy.

Biting down on her bottom lip, (Y/N) reeled from the feeling of Harry pumping his cum into her. He didn’t stop until he felt like he couldn’t hold himself up with his shaky arms anymore. He collapsed against her chest, and she wrapped her arms around him as they both continued to come down from their highs.

“I love when you wake me up in the middle of the night like that,” (Y/N) played with Harry’s curls as she spoke. “Can we fall back asleep like this?”

They were tiny. Two of the boys were only 3 pounds and a couple ounces, and they were the biggest. 

I could feel this weight on my shoulders as I looked at all four incubators around me and I wanted to just crumple on the floor. 

Two days old, and I already couldn't do it. I couldn't magically make everything easier. 

Harry and I traded off incubators, spending time with each of the babies as nurses came and went before I got wheeled back to my room.

I sat crying in the hospital bed, abruptly trying to supress my sobs when the door opened and in walked Harry. 

His eyes immediately clocked my face, rushing over to soothe me.

"Baby." he said softly, "They're okay. They're healthy. They're going to get stronger. They're going to get off breathing assistance and feeding tubes and we will bring them home." He immediately reassured, almost like he had the same exact talk with himself, before with me. 

"Her entire hand is smaller than the pad of my thumb, Harry!" I cried. 

"She's going to grow." He reminded me, his hands cupping my face, wiping away the tears.

"She was smushed in there!" My body shook.

"She's okay, Y/N."

"You don't know that, Harry! You cannot tell me they're fine! They look like they're on the brink of death Harry! They're already fighting for their lives, and they just got here and I can't do anything to help! I can't fucking help them! I'm just fucking stuck here!" I yelled, my body physically shaking as my eyes burned. "Their bassinets don't even have their names on them! They're.. they're..." I broke down, my wail bouncing off the walls of the room. "They don't even have identities yet." I cried. 

"They have names, Y/N." Harry said softly.

"They don't know that!"

"They wouldn't even if they weren't in incubators."

I glared at him, wanting to punch him whilst also wishing he would hold me and make everything feel better.

"I have four nameless babies, stuck in a incubator with feeding and breathing tubes and heart monitors and heat lamps and I can't even hold them, Harry. I can't do skin to skin yet. I can't feed them. I can't change their diapers. It's been two days! Two days, Harry!" I exclaimed, watching Harry take a deep breath.

"You're not the only one, Y/N. You don't think I wish I could do those things too? I'm cherishing getting to see them at all, Y/N. I would also love to hold, and cuddle and feed my babies. You're not the only one, but I also know, they're our new, freshly born babies, and we will never get this exact moment with them ever again." 

"At least you can see them." I grouched, leaning back carefully in my hospital bed, thankful for the heavy medication they've given me for my cesarean wound. 

"If you're mad, and you need to take it out on me, just tell me that, but at least tell me you're not mad at me." Harry said softly, watching me.

"I'm not mad at you." I said slowly, Harry nodding. "I just.. everything that I dreamt about.. isn't playing out at all. I didn't get to push our baby out of my vagina, and you cut the cord and have the normalcy.. I just... even now, I still can't see my own children whenever I want and it's incredibly frustrating. Do you know how insane it is to be told you can only see your baby during visiting hours until they're a bit stronger? I can't camp out in there even if I wanted to, because I have to be watched and monitored and recover as well."

"I understand, but we will bring them home. To bring them home though, they need to be alive, and those breathing tubes, and feeding tubes, and heart rate monitors are doing just that. They're keeping all four of our babies alive, baby. It's going to be hard. We're both going to cry, and get mad, but they're two days old. We're all just trying to get through this, together. the doctors, the nurses, you, me, them... we'll look back on today, and remember how hard it is, whilst we're cuddling them on the couch or they're screaming our ears off in highchairs. Today, will not be forever. I understand, and hear your frustrations, I feel them as well... but at the end of the day baby, we have four alive babies. You had four babies cut out of you, Y/N. Just a year ago we didn't think you'd ever get pregnant, and here we are today, with four babies. Yes, things are hard right now.. but this is all we've ever wanted, and now we have it. Days are going to be hard, and situations might not look how you've dreamt them..." he paused, moving closer, wiping my tears and kissing my lips softly. "We're parents, Y/N. You and me. We have four babies, biologically at that. Soak in the good, and breathe through the bad. All those negative pregnancy tests, all those egg retrieval treatments and the semen counts and the abdominal shots... we have four beautiful babies. We did it." He kissed me again and I nodded slowly, apologizes falling from my lips as I hugged him.

"I love you." I told him, sniffling.

"I love you, Y/N Styles." 

I smiled up at him before asking for a tissue, Harry joked about me ruining the mood, passing it over before sitting in the chair next to me. 

"You need to rest, love. Our babies need a strong mumma as well."

* * * * 

ynstyles

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♡ liked by: annetwist, yourbff, yourmom and 226,347 others

ynstyles: People have asked me what it was like to be pregnant with quadruplets, and yes it was a blessing, but it also was hard. Besides the basic pregnancy experiences, and the high risk pregnancy, my belly got HUGE, which is wild to me considering just how small the kids are.. but imagine carrying like 3 watermelons on your stomach. That might be what this felt like. Then add the swelling, the nausea, everything. It was hard. It was incredibly difficult. People also never guess you're pregnant with multiple babies, and if they do, just twins, so you often hear "Wow, that's gonna be one big baby." Which is really hard to hear looking back on, because of just how hard premie babies struggle. Sorry Karen, it wasn't a really big baby. It was actually four babies, that are now basically on life support. I thought my whole pregnancy my belly was ruining my body. I couldn't get it out of my head how I'd look afterwards.. and honestly? it does cross my mind, but at the end of the day, this belly carried four babies. It's funny to look back on how heavy the belly felt, knowing the biggest baby was only 3 pounds and 5 ounces. I'd say the hardest part, is the comments from strangers when they see you. I'd be 15 weeks pregnant, and they'd be shocked my due date wasn't right around the corner. I gave birth prematurely, and my belly was a lot larger then, than it was when people made comments to me. Yes I knew I was having multiples, but peoples comments and or fascination with ones body still hits the same. Some people just have big bellies, and small babies. Just because one is pregnant, doesn't change the fact that it is still their body. That is their stomach you're commenting on. The way it looks, the marks on it, the way the belly button protrudes. Pregnant woman don't deserve less, just because there's a reason for it. It all can still hurt the same.  I've welcomed four beautiful babies with that belly, but that belly is still mine. 

*comments have been limited*

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"What?" It was clear he was deep in through himself. Probably stressing about if the work they did tonight would be good enough.

"In the studio, you said he didn't like his picture being taken. Said he would have your career if he saw me taking pictures. Why?"

Oliver shrugged trying to think of something without giving away too much, "The man just likes his privacy, is all."

My shoulders collapse into the passenger seat a bit, and to my surprise he notices. Noticed my reaction when I didn't get the details I had been hoping for. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for, but surely a little more than 'the man just likes his privacy.' 

Don't we all?

"Look, one thing about this industry that you don't know – and I hope you never do – is that it's brutal. It can suck the life right out of you if you let it. Sometimes, it happens without you even knowing," Oliver's grip on the steering wheel tightens, as if he's seeing a distant memory, "It happened to Harry once and he's just now starting to bounce back from it. I just don't want to see all the progress he's made fly out the window."

"The industry's caused him to not like having his picture taken?"

"In summary, yes. He's had his privacy invaded since he was a teenager, Tils. He went from being a normal teenager to being somebody that everyone in the world wanted a piece of in a matter of months and it's never been the same for him since," Oliver turns the car down the street toward his apartment after merging off the highway, "Being out in public is nerve wracking for him because paparazzi could be anywhere. Waiting around a corner for him to make one wrong move. He's constantly looking over his shoulder and around at his surroundings. Having his picture taken is a trigger."

"A trigger?" My eyes look over at him again confused by his words.

"He shuts down. We're this close to an album release...," He pinches his fingers together with the smallest gap of space, "We just can't afford the time that would be lost if something like that happened."

"How do you know so much about it? You're not being followed around like he is," I challenge, knowing full well he has freedom in public to do what he wants.

"Fair, I'm not. But being tied to Harry – whether it be professionally, or something else – will give you some form of attention, whether it be good or bad, warranted or unwarranted."

"Something else?"

Oliver takes a deep breath and releases a sigh that he wasn't aware he was holding in, "Any form of relationship with someone of his status will bring intrusiveness in your life that you've never seen before. You thought Mom and Dad were bad when we were kids before the divorce? This is at least twenty times worse."

"Dating someone like him, Til, won't get you anywhere in life besides heart broken and caught up in the public eye for the wrong reasons. He's a great guy, and if it wasn't for his job, his personality would be one on someone that I would be okay with you being with; dating, bringing 'home' to meet me. Due to his profession, I know things will only end badly. Someone like him isn't worth your time."

—

The wind suddenly blowing rain into my dry safe haven under the door covering of my apartment knocks me back into reality. I look around at my surroundings trying to gather where I am again. My front door, keys still in hand and my clutch still tucked under my arm. I look to the parking lot.

Harry.

At least his car. Still parked in its parking space from before, his tail lights glowing red and the engine running. It causes my head to flood with the memories of the night, like a fast paced movie trailer flashing behind my eyes in a matter of seconds. The stolen glances, the banter and conversation, the gentle touches, the small acts of affection he showed me throughout the night, the butterflies that are still lingering despite – 

'I think I'm falling in love with you, Tilly Florence.' 

He slipped it in so effortlessly as if it wasn't going to bring my entire world to a blinding halt with ten simple words. He didn't want me to respond. He told me not to say anything. How was I supposed to feel after hearing those words coming from his mouth? When just days ago he hinted we were more than friends but didn't add any other label.

I shake my head in an attempt to rid my mind of the memories, turning my attention to the door now. I turn the key, unlocking it, and step inside. I turn back before shutting the door completely and finally see his car flip on the reverse lights and start backing out of the spot seeing that I'm now inside the apartment.

I shut the door gently trying not to wake Lily before locking it and turning back around. I'm met with the image of Willow jumping down off the couch and running to me and Lily parked in the middle of the couch, face lit up by the movie she's watching on the television, her hand in the middle of guiding a handful of popcorn to her open mouth that's waiting for the bite. 

She stops in her tracks and looks at me, taking a second to process my appearance in the living room. She puts the popcorn down and stops her movie before turning to me with her eyebrows cinched together in confusion, "Why are you home? Do I need to get my baseball bat?"

Her question causes me to snort while I move to the kitchen island to put my clutch down and lean against it for support in taking off my heels. I shake my head, "No."

Her eyebrows only draw in closer together, "Then the hell are you home?"

"The date ended?"

"Okay... let me rephrase... Why aren't you at his house right now, doing 'after-date' activities?"

I roll my eyes, slipping off one of my heels and finding sweet relief the moment my flat foot hits the floor after walking around in them all night. 

I shrug before removing the other heel, "He said he wasn't interested in sleeping with me on the first date. That tonight was about spending time with me."

Lily stares blankly at me, blinking in total bewilderment, "You've got to be kidding me."

I raise an eyebrow at her, planting my other flat foot on the ground while waiting for her to continue, "You've been spending time together since you started working for him. He's had all the time he wants to get to know you, why does he need a date to do it?"

My mind flashes once again to the night he showed up at the bar and lectured me about standing up for the treatment I deserve. A portion of me is screaming to explain to her why he wouldn't spend the night tonight. Another portion of me is telling me that maybe some things are best to be kept a secret; just between him and I. I'm silent a moment as I place my shoes I've just removed by the door and remove my bracelet and watch from my wrist.

"I think we need to start from the beginning because from what it sounds like, it was a shit date, but you didn't give off that vibe when you walked in the door, the way you carried yourself."

"Start from the beginning?" I ask her. Lily nods. 

"Lil, I need a shower. I'm dripping wet, and I'm freezing. I just want to get out of this dress."

"Alright."

I move down the hall to my bedroom, finding underwear and his t-shirt from earlier today. I return to the bathroom and go to shut the door. I turn the water hotter than I usually do. Wanting to rid my body of the feeling of the cold water that had been clinging to it for the past forty minutes from the rain.

Not even two minutes into my shower, the door to the bathroom barges open and I peek my head out of the shower curtain to gain a better view. Lily is sitting criss crossed on the closed toilet seat, her popcorn in hand, looking in my direction as if she's a child waiting for their favorite movie to start.

"Do you mind?" I ask her, gesturing to me naked behind the shower curtain.

"No," she shoves a bite of popcorn in her mouth, "Do you mind? I'm just here for the details."

She reaches to the counter of the sink next to her and takes a sip out of a wine glass that I hadn't noticed was there before. She holds it out to me, offering me some and I immediately shook my head before closing myself back up into the shower.

"Okay, I'm ready. Start from the beginning." Lily urges me and my mind rakes through the events of the evening, sorting through what I should tell her and what would be better left unsaid.

"Well, you'll probably see a picture of me tomorrow on that website you read. BuzzFeed? There were cameras everywhere when we got there, and even more after we left the restaurant," I gathered some shampoo into my hand and slowly lather it into my scalp.

"He did tell me that was going to happen. How did that go?"

"It was nerve wracking. He was very sweet throughout the whole thing. Covered the door when I was getting in and out of the car from the cameras so I wouldn't flash them with my dress at the angle I was sitting in. He was comforting and reassuring, all around the perfect gentleman." A smile creeps across my lips remembering the simple little details he did throughout the night that made it so sweet. 

"Jesus, you're going to make me puke," she mutters sarcastically under her breath; without a doubt in my mind that I wasn't supposed to hear it over the running shower, "Did he kiss you?"

Did he kiss me? My fingers absentmindedly trace over my lips as the moments come rushing back to me, "Yes, a few times." I added.

Lily groans from outside the shower curtain, "I need more details, Tils. You're giving me breadcrumbs and I want the whole damn loaf." 

I turn around, my back facing the water and rinse the shampoo from my hair before moving to conditioner and body wash as I give her the details that she's asking for, "Okay, okay. We had dinner outside on the beach. Food was good, the wine was even better. After we left, I thought we were going to come back here and watch tv or something but he took me to the museum. We spent some time there; talking, dancing."

I turn off the water and reach out of the shower searching for my towel, "Dancing?"

I dried my body with the towel before grabbing Harry's t-shirt from the floor and pulling it over my head and stepping out of the shower, I nodded my head, "He played a song on his phone and we swayed to it. After that, we stayed like that just talking. Eventually it started raining and I tried to go back to the car, but he stopped me. Pulled me to him and spun me around in the pouring rain. Kissed me like he's never kissed me before; slow, unrushed."

I shimmy my underwear over my hips under the shirt. Out of my peripheral vision I can see Lily narrowing her eyes at me, studying me as I lotioned my legs, "Why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me?"

Her question is borderline accusing and I know she can see right through me. I've never been able to keep things from her. Not easily anyway. Within a few weeks of knowing her, she knew all about my family and my life story. It's actually a miracle I didn't scare her off since we were so new to each other.

I sigh, releasing the tension in my shoulders knowing it was no use keeping it in. I moved the shower curtain over, sitting on the side of the tub and leaning on my knees, closing the space between us as if someone could find out the secret in our tiny apartment.

I look down at my clasped hands, trying to find the way I want to word my next bit of news I have for her. She takes a sip of wine before shoving more popcorn in her mouth in high anticipation for what was about to roll off my tongue.

"He told me he's falling in love with me, Lil." Her eyes go wide, bulging out of her head, to the point that I was afraid they would pop out onto the bathroom floor. Her mouth hangs open, thankfully right after she chewed her bite of popcorn so we don't run the risk of her choking. She's frozen, speechless, flabbergasted, much like I was in the moment under the lights hours before this. 

"I'm sorry, he did what now?"

I bite my lip trying to hide my laugh from her shocked state,"You heard me right."

"Falling in love with you?" It's a question, but she says it more as a statement, almost needing to hear the words again to make sure she's not hearing things. She takes a gulp of her wine and then hands me the glass despite me declining it earlier.

"I know you said no, but I'm spiraling, so I know you are too, you're just hiding it better than I am. If you're not now, I know you will be soon, so drink." Just as I'm about to shake my head again, declining her offer, she shoves the drink in my face further, forcing me to oblige. I throw back the rest of the drink and set it on the counter before leaning my weight on it, looking myself over in the mirror.

She sets her empty popcorn on the counter and leans her elbows on her knees, running her hands through her hair, one of her legs bouncing. She exhales heavily. She looks stressed and I can't quite tell why. Just a few days ago she was freaking out when I told her about the first time he kissed me, and labeled us more than friends. This was not the reaction I was expecting, unless this was her processing everything beforehand.

Her head shoots up from her hands suddenly, "Shots. I need a shot."

I follow her out to the kitchen and watch as she pours us tequila, "I don't need one Lily. I've had enough to drink."

"Tilly, humor me for a second, please. You just told me Harry Styles admitted to falling in love with you, and I'm the only one freaking out about this. I can't be the only one freaking. Not this. If there was ever anything for you to freak out about; if there was ever anything to send you into a blinding panic attack, this would be acceptable."

I humor her, and take the shot of tequila she pours, feeling the burn as it travels down to my stomach. She throws back two before putting the bottle away. She leans against the kitchen island as if leaning the weight of Harry's words into it because it was too much to carry on her own.

"Lily, if this is how you react about someone telling me they're falling in love, how are you going to react when you hear someone tell you for the first time?"

She shoots me a glare and shakes her head vigorously, "I can't think about that right now. All I can think about is how you must've felt when you heard him say it? I mean this happened so fast, I don't understand how we got here."

I lean back on the barstool I'm sitting in across from her and cross my arms, shrugging slightly, "I don't think it hit me until he walked away from the front door to go back to the car. To be honest it might not have fully hit me yet."

"Well, what do you think you feel?"

I shrug again, looking at my leg that was bouncing on the foot rest of the stool, "I'm not sure. After he said it he told me I didn't have to say or do anything. Just that it was on his mind and he wanted me to know."

"So you didn't say it back?"

I shook my head and look at her just as she runs her hands through her hair again, tugging at her roots gently, "How did he seem? Angry? Sad? Off?"

I shook my head, "He seemed his usual self before he walked away. He didn't seem upset at all."

She shook her head this time, placing her head in her hands and rubbing her eyes with her fingers as if this story physically pained her to hear, "Somewhere in life, someone went wrong in teaching both of you how to be in a relationship."

I raised an eyebrow at her, "People say they love you or they're in love with you to hear it back, Tilly. That's just what you do when someone says it; you say it back."

I shook my head, looking down again before looking at her and biting my lip to keep my smile at bay, "I don't know, Lily. This felt different. It always feels different with him."

And for the first time since coming home, I see a smile form across her lips, "Different?"

I nod my head, unable to stop my smile from growing from the sight of hers, "He feels like a safe space. I mean, he's gotten me to open up about things in a matter of two months. You are the only other person that's been able to do that with me. That should say something."

She nods her head slowly, soaking up my realization that's hanging in the air between us. 

I push off the back of my chair and lean against the island to be closer to her, leaning my elbows down and clasping my hands into a fist, "Look, I think this could be good for me. I think he could be good for me. I don't necessarily know how I feel or know what it means, but I do know that he brings out a new side of me that I like. I like the way I feel around him."

Lily smiles wider and moves her hands to clasp over mind, "If that's the case, then I'll swallow what I said about it being too soon. I'm happy for you, Tilly. You are different since you met him, and I like the new and improved version. Just make sure you don't get too wrapped up in him too fast, okay?"

'Dating someone like him, Til, won't get you anywhere except heart broken.'

I smile a close-lipped smile at her and squeeze her hands as a thank you before releasing. I say my goodnights to her, only just now realizing that it was almost one thirty in the morning. 

I grab my phone and clutch off the counter before taking Willow into my room for bed. Lying down with the lights off, I unlock my phone for the first time in a couple hours and see I have a missed call.

Harry. Fifteen minutes ago.

I press the notification and immediately starts ringing into a new phone call.

"Hi, sunshine," his voice rings through the speaker after only ringing three times. His voice is riddled with fatigue as it cracks when it lowers.

I immediately smile at the swarm of butterflies it releases in my stomach, "Hi."

"Missed me too much, you just needed to hear my voice one more time before going to sleep?"

I shake my head, still smiling like an idiot, "You called me first, remember?"

He takes a pause thinking on my words, "Oh, yeah. I think I fell asleep after I called you. I don't know, it's a little bit of a blur."

I stay quiet, not sure what to say because it seemed like he didn't have a true reason to call me. My head starts to feel light from the added alcohol in my system, the wine and tequila doing a dance; fighting over their control on me. 

"Erm, I called to see if you would be free to come to the studio tomorrow? Jeff is wigging that we haven't had a studio session with the whole team in a while, and he wants pictures taken. He also wants to be there and the only time that he has available tomorrow is eight in the morning. I know it's short notice," He apologizes.

"No, no. It's fine. I don't have to work tomorrow," I peel back my phone from ear a moment to look at the time before putting it back up to it, "I'm just going to be running on fumes tomorrow, if that's the case and it's almost two."

"I'm sorry, love," he exhales a sigh through the phone and then I hear him adjust in bed on the other end of the phone, "He has strong opinions about getting this album done and he thinks I've been wasting time."

"It's not fair to you. You and the whole team are going through your first time writing without Oliver and processing the feelings all over again as you navigate trying to find yourself after losing him." He's quiet on the other end of the phone for a few seconds.

"Sometimes I get inexplicably angry at Jeff for no reason because of how fast it seemed like he moved on from him dying. I know the world continues to move after you lose someone, but it just felt like his should have been paused for a little while longer before we tried to pick up the pieces and move on with the next project," I feel my heart melt into the phone at his words. Maybe it's the time of night, maybe it's the fact that he had been asleep when I called him back, but it seemed like he was talking absentmindedly to me. Not trying to filter his words around me, just speaking the first thing that comes to his mind and gives me a little window into who he is and what he's feeling. 

I smile into the phone, unable to find the words to say to him. I don't say anything. I just let the silence fill the space in the phone between us, until— 

"I had a good time tonight, Tilly," He breaks me away from my train of thought. His sentence is short, simple; but the words don't sound rehearsed or practiced. He sounds sincere.

"Me too," I tell him, fighting my giddy laugh from surfacing, shoving it back down into my throat.

All too fast, my mind lingers on the memory of my brother and I in the car after his studio session with Harry and Mitch before his first album came out. 

'Due to his profession, I know things will end badly. He's not worth your time.'

My breath lingers in my throat, choking me and preventing me from continuing the conversation. Almost as if he could sense the shift in my demeanor over the phone, he speaks up. His voice soft with a slight rasp to it from the late night, "What's the matter, love?"

I don't answer right away; how could I? I never planned on telling him the doubts that I had about us and whatever we are. I also know that he'll see through any facade I put up in front of him because I accidentally let him know me too well.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, physically preparing myself for the words that were about to come out of my mouth.

"I'm scared," My words come out barely a breath, and I'm surprised he could even hear them through the phone speaker.

"About what, Tils?" There's pure curiosity behind his voice and a little bit of concern mixing in as he waits. 

My eyes flutter shut at the sound of the name coming off his lips unexpectedly and I try to will the butterflies to calm in my stomach. I'm quiet for too long. Long enough for him to start speculating and he nails it right on the head.

"About us? About what I said earlier?"

I purse my lips together in a straight line and nod my head, forgetting he wasn't here and couldn't see me, "Yeah."

My voice comes out breath-like and shaky. A whisper getting lost in a gust of wind. The silence on his end of the phone rings in my ears too loudly and I search for something to say to break it, but come up empty.

"Is this why you were nervous last night? Telling me you wouldn't tell me unless it became a problem?" I've been caught.

"Yeah," is all I can muster out again, afraid of his impending reaction.

"Do you want to talk about it tomorrow? We can meet at the studio early before everyone gets there? Seven?" I smile at the thought of being able to see him before seeing the entire group for the first time in weeks, almost months despite the circumstances of us meeting.

"I'm going to need coffee if we're meeting that early." I smile faintly into the phone.

"Deal, I'll be at the studio at seven with your iced coffee in hand," His smile rings through his voice as he speaks, enough to make me melt into my mattress and pillows, "Get some sleep, love. I'll see you tomorrow. It'll be okay."

We say our goodnights and I put my phone on the charger, unable to sleep but trying to force it to happen with the fact that I'll for sure be hungover tomorrow and the start of my day keeps getting pushed earlier and earlier.

—

thank you so much for being here if you're still reading <3 you're amazing and the reason that i haven't given up on this story yet

i hope life is kind to you this week xoxo

"Michelle?!" No answer…

"Mitchell?! Wake up you're gonna be late for our first class!”

I laughed to myself at her lack of response before I sauntered back down the hall to my room grabbing the Ultimate Alarm; a fog horn that Michelle, the lads, and I nabbed from a school footie game. We each have one and have all have organized to use it with each other when the drink has made us more sluggish than functional.

Not much has changed since the first day I met Michelle. She's the only one here that I've met who seems to have stayed the same throughout all the three years of university that I've known her....That can be looked at as both a good and a bad thing.

Shaking the foghorn with devilish delight and biting my cheeks so that I wouldn't blow my cover, my feet stopped in front of her door once again. I cracked the entrance slightly sticking my arm in the room and turning my head away to shield my ears as much as possible from the noise. As soon as I pressed the button to sound it off, I heard a loud thudding sound followed by cursing. If she wasn't up before, she's up now.

"WHAT THE FUCK, HAZLAND?!”

I ran back to my room to put the horn down and grab my bag. This is the first year that I haven't strained my back to pick it up. Fouth year with a lighter load but more studying than I did in all the other three years combined seems pretty backwards to me, but I won't complain.

"What time is it?”

"Half- Oh-“

Michelle emerged from her room looking worse for wear. Her hair was in a nest atop her head and she only wore a long sleeved burgundy t-shirt and a black pair of boy short knickers on her lithe, lanky frame. I  swallowed deeply and turned my head away not expecting her to be so scantily clad. The colors contrasted with her warm honey/caramel skin tone and it was only then that I took in how much of her skin was actually showing. I've seen her naked before but it was an accident and brief. Very brief. I only saw her outlines really, nothing of real importance... not that I was trying to look or anything.

"Half past eight. Go put on trousers! I don't want to see your bajingo!”

Michelle primped her dry lips at me prior to moistening them with a swipe of her tongue, making sure to flip her middle finger up in my direction before she disappeared back into her room.

"Everyone wants to see my bajingo Harry and that's plenty of time for me to get ready. You didn't have to use the Ultimate Alarm. It's not like I was in a drug induced coma!”

"I called you twice but you didn't answer. I thought that-“

I trailed off my words as a gorgeous blonde walked out of Michelle's room. Her hair was tussled and she was scrambling to adjust her skirt as Michelle looked at me with a tightlipped grin, feeling out the room.Michelle walked her secret house guest to the door and gave her a lingering kiss that caused the girl to stand on tip toe before awkwardly waving a goodbye to her and shutting the door. I was left stunned.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor Styles!”

"That- that was a girl.”

“Yes."

"She was your friend?”

“No."

Michelle walked into the kitchen grabbing an orange juice carton out of the refrigerator. She took a sip straight from the jug causing me to grimace before she rolled her eyes at me and grabbed a  red solo cup. I was only momentarily distracted before I continued on my previous trail of thought.

"But, you were...and she…"

"Yes Harry, spit it out come on. You're almost there. I know it. I can feel it”

"She was putting her clothes back on.”

Michelle nodded her head in agreement as she continued to guzzle the rest of our citrusy, pulp free juice. After she finished it, she tossed the empty plastic to me and then walked out of the kitchen. I was right by the bin but set the cup on the countertop as my brain continued to navigate through what I think I want to ask.

"You didn't have on many clothes…"

"No, Harry. Neither of us did last night.”

Michelle folded her arms while squinting at me. The hint she's dropped allows what comes out of my mouth next to be uninhibited and honestly sound a bit too over zealous about the idea.

"You had sex with her?”

Michelle nodded her head up and down grinning slightly. Almost a smug look on her face I would say. She hadn't been in a relationship in a while. The last one I remember was when she was with my best mate Louis. It's how I met her as a matter of fact. Michelle and Louis are virtually the same person. It's freaky sometimes. She could be a reincarnate of him as a girl. They were inseparable, but when it ended it ended badly. I'm still not clear on the reason why. Neither of them will talk about it, but I managed to stay neutral in the whole situation and still be able to carry on a friendship with both of them. I'm still good friends with Lou, but he doesn't come around as much since I moved in with Michelle. Me and her got on so well while her and Louis dated it was hard not to become friends with her as well. Louis moved on and moved in with his bird earlier this year and I haven't really seen Michelle with anyone...Until now.

"So-so, you're a lesbian then?”

"Yes Harry. I've 'switched teams' as they say.”

"Since when?” I was just so shocked.

"Since over the summer...Does it bother you?” Michelle looked down at the ground and scratched the back of her neck as if she were bracing herself if I said it did and to be honest I was slightly offended that she’d think that way of me.

“No… No, I just never saw you with anyone over the summer.”

I could hear a sigh of relief escape Michelle’s lips as she turned to leave the front door.

I could have sworn she only hung out with me and the lads when Louis wasn't around. She hung out with us so much and we'd gotten so comfortable around her that we actually started counting her as one of the guys and calling her 'Mitch' or 'Mitchell' instead of Michelle. She always pretends to get cross with us when we called her that, but she can never keep a straight face long enough for us to believe that she doesn't like it.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't with anyone Harrow." Michelle winked at me and went back into her room coming out ten minutes later in joggers, a t-shirt, and Nike trainers with no backpack, one pencil, and a pen. Very prepared.

"Told you thirty minutes was more than enough time. Come now, Hazland.”

"...That's what she said." I smiled proudly at my own joke while Michelle gave me an unwavering a stale face.

"If I can say anything about growth in these last 4 years of our friendship it would be that you have made the least of it. You are the worst.”

“The pot shouldn’t call the kettle names. I thought it was funny." I grinned at her irritation grabbing all of my things in preparation to start the final year.

"Of course you did. Usually when you think it's funny that means it's not.”

Michelle exited out leaving me to lock the door to our new off campus apartment but I wanted to know more. 

I followed behind her and asked her all types of questions. You can't just spring on people that you've switched sides and not expect them to want to know all of the details. In all honesty it wasn't a big deal as long as she was happy. Perhaps I was just being nosy, but after usually seeing her with mainly men my underlying question to her was probably, "Why?"

"I wasn't having that much luck with guys, Haz. One night I went out for a drink and a girl approached me so I figured, why the hell not? What could it hurt, really? Nothing. I went for it, and I enjoyed myself.”

She didn't have a great track record with guys after her split with Lou. She was so unhappy at one point, but then again when you bring home assholes and expect them to turn into stand up gents tears are to be expected. They always looked like gutter grunge to me but at the moment that seemed to be her type, so I didn't say anything. I've actually spent a lot of nights with Michelle rubbing her back as she cried against my shoulder and handing her the odd Kleenex to substitute for my shirt. Now that I think about it, last summer I really didn't see her with any guys. I guess when I saw her with girls I always assumed they were just her friends.

"So...What's it like?”

"What's what like?”

"You know the, um, the switch...What's it like?" Michelle threw her head back and laughed as we reached the main building for our senior seminar class.

"You mean what's it like going from cock to fanny? Is that what you're asking me?" I raised my eyebrows at her bluntness and I could feel heat rise in my cheeks. There's no beating about the bush with Michelle, not anymore anyway.

"Pretty much, yeah. That's what I'm asking. I’m just being nosy. If it’s too much you don’t have to-“

"Honestly," Michelle shifted her eyes back and forth as if she was going to tell me the secret to life in her next sentence, "It's so much better. Guys have no clue what they're doing down there. It's so refreshing to have someone know exactly what it is that I want, when I want it, and how I want it without explaining myself like I'm a bloody rubix cube. Did you know that there are three holes down there?” She asked me sarcastically as if we weren’t both on track for Med school.

"I resent that! And no…no I didn't know that.” I replied to sarcasm with sarcasm, grinning to myself much like the purple devil emoji. I surely did know all the holes.

"Why is that, Hazland? The resentment issue?”

We took our seats in the half full lecture room at the back of the class as we normally do. Michelle, myself and the rest of the gang have started many an early weekend by sitting in the back of the class, signing the attendance sheet and then leaving when the professors back was turned. I don't think I'll do that this year though. I have too many important tests to take if I want to be a doctor. I mean to pass the UKCAT exam the first time.

"Because I'm not half bad at it. At least I don't think I am... Never got a complaint before and I don't intend to.”

Michelle laughed loudly as the professor walked in, drawing attention our way. I smiled and waved at the onlookers before Michelle chuckled again grabbing my hand to stop me as the professor started to speak.

"Just because you never got a complaint doesn't mean that it wasn't said, Harrow. Nine times out of ten, if you don’t hear a complaint it’s because she cares more about your ego than her orgasm...It’s a shame really.”

I primped my lips at her and we continued to whisper to each other back and forth while we took notes on what the professor wrote on the whiteboard during the lecture. There would be two major papers in this class. Thankfully for the twenty page essay that we'll be assigned to do later on in the quarter we can have a partner. Michelle quickly leaned her head on my shoulder choosing me to work with when the paper isn't even due until the last week of class. I of course accepted her. Not only is she my friend but she's one of those annoyingly clever people. I've honestly never seen Michelle open or purchase one required textbook in all of our three years knowing each other in our university careers, but every time marks are posted her marks are always first class honors.

By the end of class, I ended up giving Michelle a hefty amount of paper for notes in seminar and for the other classes she had throughout the rest of the day. It baffles me as to how she's this born genius, but the most unorganized person that I know at the same time. Her only response to my annoyance was, "At least I have writing utensils.”

"Was that girl this morning your girlfriend?”

"No. I'm an admitting fuckgirl. What’s the saying? If you can’t beat them join them. I refuse to be part of the played group any more. It's our last year after all. I figure it's time to up the ante. Let monogamy go.”

I laughed and shook my head before another question came up. It was always something I wanted to know about lesbians but was too embarrassed to ask. It's not like I have many lesbian friends who I could turn to and get the information that most want to know.  I'm never that embarrassed around Michelle though.

"So, erm, um...who's more dominant, when you're...You know?”

Michelle rolled her eyes at the question and I began to feel like an ass.

"When we're scissoring?" She spoke loudly making my thought about embarrassment wrong.

“Chelle!"

Michelle snickered knowing that she's put a vivid image in my head of her and the mystery blonde. I shake the thought before I get too carried away. I'm not supposed to get aroused with the thought of my best friend and another girl.

"Whoever feels like it whenever they feel like it? It was always a competition with men isn't it?”

“I don’t think it’s so much a competition as it is that some women don't like being on top?” I spoke presenting the idea causing her to pop her lips in disagreement.

“It’s never asked though is it? Sounds like male assumption to me. When I'm with a girl it's just flat out pleasurable for the pair of us. It's not about dominance, Harry. It's about getting off. Scissoring isn't a thing though, by the by.”

I nodded my head up and down still in awe that she of all people had taken a liking to someone who has the same bits as she does. It didnt' bother me like she thought it did earlier and I hope I didn't give her that impression by my line of questioning. Honestly these were just things I always wanted to know. I'm actually more hurt that scissoring apparently isn't a thing...They make it look so pleasurable in porn...I've been bamboozled.

"That's enough questions about me for now. What's happened to you?”

"What do you mean?"

"Harry full offense, but you were a slut when I first met you. You've since depleted in your numbers dramatically, except I'm sure the use of your hand. There were tissues in your bin the other night when I was cleaning the apartment and you don't have a cold…"

"I have h-hay fever Michelle! Allergies kick up at random times... Don't clean my room, I'll do it! It's personal in there. I knew I couldn't find any of my shit for a reason. And hang on-" I knotted my eyebrows playfully at her earlier slut comment.

I admit that I got around, but I moved very slowly. I've only ever had sex with seven or maybe nine girls in my twenty-one years give or take. I don't really keep count. It's not like they were souvenirs or notches on my belt for me to keep track of. All of them were an experience and I'm pretty sure I could name them all if I had to.

The first time happened my last year in 6th form or high school you could say and I didn't even know Michelle then. I got teased for that a bit, but I wasn't in a rush. The maybe other seven or eight happened here at uni but it wasn't as frequent as Michelle makes it out to be. The first two were in my first year when I met Michelle, one of them ended up being my girlfriend over a span of Five months. After that, I only was only ever active with a few more spaced out over the course of two and a half years, and they were regulars. That's not that bad when you think about it, especially for a guy my age at university.

"You were Haz! You had a new girl every weekend.”

"I did not! They were the same few people. They just kind of, alternated? You just never paid them any attention so you thought they were different every time. You're giving me more credit than I deserve." 

Michelle rolled her eyes and continued to tease me.

"Whatever. What's happened then?”

"I don't know what you mean. I got invested in my studies. I have to take the UKCAT this year.”

"When is the last time you fun bit wrestled, willy waggled, played 'hide the helmet', rolled in the hay as they say?" I scrunched my nose and then thought about it and then got frustrated that I had to actually think about it.

“Yet I’m the worst? Who’s this they you speak of?" I asked her, squinting my eyes and tilting my head to the side.

"Everyone says those things when talking about sex. The more mature ones do anyway. Stop dilly dallying and answer the question. When is the last time you put your 'p' in a ‘v'?"

"S-spring? Early spring? Early Spring terms I guess…"

I could feel my cheeks turn red as I answered her question and Michelle bit her cheeks as an odd snorting noise left her nose while she tried to hold in her laughter. It's not that funny.

"You haven't fucked since the spring?" I  laughed more at myself than at the shocked look on her face and shook my head no.

"No, not actual Spring. Early spring terms, so February...My birthday.”

"Harry, we're at the end of August here! You might as well count yourself as celibate. Not that I can blame the girls for dodging you. You still call a vagina a bajingo.”

I chuckled before I spoke, "The word vagina is honestly just as bad as bajingo. And this is coming from someone who has over a hundred words and phrases for sex.”

"A hundred and counting, Harrow.”

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to make the red in my cheeks less noticeable by rubbing my hand over my face. Spring term is when I decided to get more focused. I threw myself into clubs and my books to try to get more into school and buckle down. I'm even president of our graduating class now, prepared to serve on the Alumni council after graduation and I for one am proud of myself for getting this far. The greater half of my first three years here at university was spent at frat parties and in my bed sleeping class time away. I barely know how I made it through this far with decent grades, but I'm grateful that I did. Failure isn't an option.

Michelle stood on tip toe, leaning her head on my shoulder all the while soothingly rubbing my back. When I turned my head to face her, she batted her long lashes at me and made her big brown eyes look like one of those odd cartoon characters whose eyes cover more than half of their face.

"It's okay, Harry.”

"What is?”

"That you haven't gotten any pussy in over six months." Michelle has officially taken a back seat and let Mitchell take the wheel. This is how she got the nickname in the first place.

"Sod off Mitch! It's not like it's a bad thing-“

"Like shit it isn’t."

"I'm busy anyway.”

"With your hand and those bin tissues." I nudged Michelle off my shoulder feigning to be fed up with her masturbation jokes.

"Well if you weren't in my room you wouldn't have seen them! Gosh, you do something one time and then that's what people automatically associate you with!”

Michelle lets out another awkward snort that causes both of us to laugh out loud as we walk through the halls preparing to go our separate ways for the rest of the day.

"That was actually kind of funny Harry. Your jokes are getting a bit better.”

"Yeah, I know. They're funny when they're at my expense.”

"Aw, Hazland. You poor, poor serial masturbator. I'll see you later, yeah?”

"Yeah," I grinned at her before I turned to leave.

"Wait, how much later?” Michelle walked back towards me with one eyebrow raised to the sky as I tried to quickly map out my schedule for the day in my head before spitting it out to her.

"Uh, I get done with classes at half five, then I have a class meeting at six, and then I work at the first year halls front desk from seven to eleven thirty tonight. So I'll probably get home around midnight."

I contently sighed and grinned at Michelle as a look of pure horror took place of her once relaxed features. Her eyes seemed to widen larger after every additional activity that I listed, but I truly enjoyed remaining busy. Michelle's face remained contorted with displeasure before she spoke.

"So you're still coming to the pub later with the lads right?”

"Uh-oh. Chelle I don't know. I kind of forgot all about that. I don't think I will though, it's Monday and-“

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not taking no as an answer. You promised and it's welcome week anyway. The pub is gonna be live! Just swing by and have one drink.”

“Nahhh I think I’m gonna-”

"One drink.”

“Sit this one out.”

"One drink, Harrow. One. Come on its tradition. You can't just bum out on tradition. This is our last year." She held up her tiny pointer finger to emphasize her point before she spoke again, this time in a small whisper, “One."

“No."

“Please?"

“No."

“Please?” Her lips pouted and her eyes turned sad trying her hand at manipulation.

"No, Chelle. No. Stop looking at me that way...Oh! Gah! Fine. I'll head to the pub when I get off work. One drink. One.”

Michelle bounced on her feet and clapped her hands in excitement making me shake my head before I turned to leave. Before I could make a real step Michelle called my name again.