#marcel!harry

Y/N didn’t get to tell the story in full to Harry that night. She had started way back, and much to Harry’s heartache, Jonathan sounded like a very nice boyfriend from what y/n did get to say before Tommy, one of the monitors, came knocking announcing girls were no longer allowed in the boy’s quarters for the day. Tommy was the more strict monitor, the one that stayed until the girls left, so y/n was forced to pick up her things and leave with the promise that they’d get together to study in the library the following day, and she could tell him the rest of her story, but it was too late, Harry already had a peek and interest for what could y/n have possibly meant that it was her fault, and he couldn’t catch much sleep afterwards.

He wanted and hoped that he would get the rest of the story straight from her lips, and not from another shove by Jonathan, but life wasn’t fair to ‘Little Marcel’ these past few days, and so a shove is what he got. He came face to face with Jonathan in the middle of a somewhat empty parking lot in campus, terrible mistake for Harry to walk that zone alone, for Jonathan jumped like animal after its prey and caught him off guard. Harry’s fists tingled, he wasn’t back into the whole boxing thing enough just yet to square up a good punch back to Jonathan, but the latter was surprised when Harry seemed angry and grabbed his shirt collar the same way he had his in his hands, nostrils flaring. Harry was angry. Not a lot of sleep, the suspense of a story keeping him on edge, and overall being fed up with Jonathan’s antics had been the perfect formula for Harry’s sudden courage flare.

“Oh, want to fight back, don’t we?” Jonathan almost spat in his face, shoving him against a wall in his tight hold. Harry shuffled, trying to break loose from his grip and get the upper hand by pushing him away, but he struggled. His mind wasn’t into it. He was annoyed that all he knew of the story consisted in this… this beast being an actual decent boyfriend and he can’t even wrap his head around how that could have been a thing, ever. This man once treated the girl he likes really well, and it angered him that the prospect of him ever being anything but wonderful to her was going to be hidden somewhere in the ending of the tale he was going to get in a few hours. It just didn’t settle right and Harry wanted nothing more than to punch him, even if just for the doubts of whether or not he’d hurt y/n in any way. But all Harry could manage was to remember his breathing exercises from all those years he accompanied his sister to yoga, and strike right where he wanted the most. “Why, Jonathan?” The phrase caught the tall strong man off guard, allowing Harry to push back and get a better grip at him. “Why do you hate me?”

In all the time Harry’s unpleasantly known Jonathan, he’s not sure he’s seen him with the expression on his face the question triggered. A mixture between anger, regret, and something close to pity or sadness, he couldn’t tell. Specifically towards what, he’ll probably never know, but whatever it was didn’t stop Jonathan from taking in a short breath and change his look to only anger, as he thrusted Harry’s body back against the wall, scraping the backs of his shoulders with the rough material, surely leaving cuts and scratches. Harry waited for a punch in the middle of his weakened grip due to the burning sensation of his skin scratching open against a wall, but Jonathan let go, leaving him to squirm in pain, and walked away, not before spitting his way and murmuring through gritted teeth. “You took her from me”

In his dreams Harry had y/n’s hands over his body in more ways than one, and certainly after the last incident with Jonathan she had been very handsy when making sure his bruises didn’t get any worse. But this was a whole new level. Even with the hovering tension of a heavy story left unfinished, Harry was sat on y/n’s bed not long after she’d ran into him following his encounter with Jonathan, shirtless and hissing every time whatever she was using to clean his cuts touched his open skin, and trying to make his hormones calm down. Focus on something else, he kept thinking to himself. Focus on anything other than her hands touching your skin, the slight pleasure that spurts from the pinching pain, or how naked you feel in front of her. Focus on anything else. He’d mentioned how Jonathan reacted when he asked him… the thing and y/n’s eyes immediately welled up with angry tears. “Harry…” she started in a whisper, making goosebumps raise on Harry’s skin where her breath hit. She was kneeled behind him, cleaning off little rocks and blood from the cuts. He knew what her tone meant, she was about to say how sorry she was for Jonathan’s doings, once again. “Don’t… Let’s just… ignore that” he sighs, fixing his glasses on his nose and taking a sideways glimpse at her frown that somehow made her impossibly cuter. It was a wonder to see how her cheeks only got prettier every time he saw her. “No, let’s not…” she grabbed his arms making him turn slightly on her bed to face her fully, breath caught in his throat from how close she was. “This is my fault too” “Y/N-” “Listen to me” her stern tone surprised him. The story she had to finish telling him sat at the tip of her tongue and she decided to get it over with and rip it like a band-aid. Part of her was scared her theory was true and with it that Harry would also think it was her fault and hate her for something she didn’t know how to control anymore.

In short, the story was more of a theory, and Harry was glad when she started with that. She breezed through the details of how Jonathan was always more the type to solve issues with punches, but thankfully it never came to it much, since he had football to throw his problems in. As he played with his frames on his face, Harry found none of that hard to believe, from however long he’s known Jonathan there was no way all that anger came just because, and he figured it’d be a helpful thing for the sport to some level. Surprising even to himself, Harry found it in him to feel happy for the Jonathan y/n was talking about. He seemed aware and had some sort of coping mechanism that worked.

The whole ordeal wasn’t as bad but still his parents and y/n worried he would carry the anger from a game to outside the field, and she tried to stick around and help, even made sure his coach always talked to him as if they had small therapy sessions before any game, to keep him in check. Harry understood completely, settling more comfortably on her mattress in eagerness to hear the rest.

The same way they seemed to have a good relationship, until it wasn’t, Jonathan was coping great with his slight anger problem, until he wasn’t. College rolled around and his scores weren’t good, he scored a good deal that soon went away because of his and causing him to be ineligible for a sports team, and to top it all off, Jonathan closed off, saying he didn’t need anyone to talk to, he just wanted to play, but couldnt, and it wasn’t that y/n didn’t think he’d get any better or his grades could come up and he could try again, it was more so that Jonathan didn’t want to get any better or didn’t think there was anything wrong in the first place.

Before she knew it, it felt like they had both given up, like they were together because it was there, and not because they felt anything. Jonathan started doing things and acting certain ways that would only push her away. He’d never talk to her about his day, and he had started bullying random kids for random reasons whenever he was more irritable than the previous day, and no matter how hard y/n tried, Jonathan didn’t want anyone to battle this with, and that was obvious.

Harry was afraid to ask if he’d ever hurt y/n in any way, and she could see it in his eyes that he worried. “I was fine. It’s nothing like that” she whispered and Harry’s sigh of relief was plenty audible. “He just… It wasn’t Jonathan anymore…” Harry nodded, understanding that to her he’d become the exact opposite of what she once knew.

Y/n met Harry at around the same time her and Jonathan were at their worst. Harry was nice, he seemed smart and she could remember that Harry made her laugh the first day of chemistry class, saying it back to him, not knowing that Harry could never forget that the gorgeous girl that had randomly sat next to him was giving him her attention and he’d made her laugh the prettiest laugh he’d ever heard. He cleared his throat and nodded. “I remember” he added smoothly. “Yeah” she blushed slightly, clearing her throat as well. Harry didn’t know but y/n couldn’t forget that either, not because she thought anything of Harry in the same way he thought of her that first day, but because that one joke was the only good thing she experienced that day. Not long after, she found out that Harry was one of those random kids her boyfriend bullied, and something inside her bubbled over. It was the last straw. She liked Harry, and she could see them being friends, and so she confronted Jonathan about it.

It didn’t go well.

Harry confidently placed a hand on her hand, not knowing where the courage had poured in from, but riding it for as long as he could. Y/n look tired remembering every detail and playing it back like a movie for him to get a glance at. All he could do was remind her he was there, and that she could stop and take a second if she needed one. But alas, she pushed through, and there it came, her brilliant theory.

She had defended Harry, and every guy Jonathan bullied, but Harry specifically because it was a face she now knew. It was a face she wanted to see more of, and preferably not bruised. She was tired of her boyfriend’s antics, of him not wanting help or acting like nothing was out of place, and trying to justify all his horrible actions with excuses that were empty. She was exhausted, and that night she ended it. Jonathan was shocked, as if all the anger he carried didn’t let him see that he was doing something wrong. And as y/n walked away and he refused, all he could see was anger and a face. Harry’s. “I think that’s w-why…” “That’s why he said I ‘took you’ from him” “Yes and I feel so guilty. I feel like he’s doing this to you more than anyone else because of me”

Tears threatened to fall down y/n’s cheeks and Harry sighed, taking both her hands in his and facing her fully. He didn’t think this was her fault. In fact after knowing the full story he didn’t really care for someone to blame. Even if there was some truth to her theory, Harry could never blame her for anything that was happening. Jonathan needed an excuse, and it turned out to be Harry, but that only meant Jonathan needed the help he was refusing to get, he needed closure, and that was it. To Harry it didn’t mean y/n had done anything wrong. And so he told her.

Harry removed his glasses and focused on her, making her look him in the eye. Her cheeks were puffy and her eyes were sad, something Harry never wanted to see on her. He gave her a comforting smile. “None of this is your fault.” “But-” “Shh, it’s not. I know the whole story now and I don’t blame you for anything, okay?” he concluded, figuring she needed to hear those words come from him. She needed to hear she was innocent from his mouth, and maybe she could start to believe it. Her arms wrapped around Harry’s figure without a warning, and this time Harry hugged back after shrugging off the surprise. He rubbed comforting circles on her back and whispered “it’s okay” to her ear for as long as they kept each other close.

Harry didn’t know what he would do about Jonathan, but he didn’t care. He hoped that now that he knew he could find a way to slowly talk to him, or gently get him and y/n to speak, or whatever it took so that Jonathan could find the help he needed. He didn’t know what the next move was, but he decided that starting with y/n and their friendship came at number one for now. He decided there was no use in plotting some master plan or causing himself or y/n a headache with more of this talk that made her uncomfortable. He wanted everything to go back to its normal state, and with time, whenever the Jonathan bridge came, they’d cross it.

Pulling apart they smiled at each other. The electricity in the air hard for Harry to ignore, but he kept his distance, instead of following his tingling instinct and closing his mouth on hers, no matter how much he wanted to.

“So… chemistry?” he asked, finding the relation of how he felt chemistry with her in his head funny but dismissing it quickly, reaching over for his shirt and sliding it back on as y/n groaned. “Nooo please” she whined clutching a pillow to her chest “not yet.” “What do you mean not yet?” Harry chuckled at her childish behaviour.  “I wanted to ask you something” Harry’s head tilted as he slid his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, urging her to continue “tell me about your tattoos” “My tattoos?” she nodded excitedly “what about them?” “Well… I’ve been kinda wanting one… for a while” the smile on her face was shy and adorable, and Harry couldn’t really see her with any tattoos on her body, but the more he looked at her pointedly and the more she smiled as she poked his tattooed arm, the more he could see exactly what style of tattoo would go with her personality, regardless of how little he actually knew of her. She continued to trace the words inked on his skin over and over, enthralled by the art. 

“Do yeh, now…?” he arched an eyebrow sitting next to her once more. “What d’yeh want?” she shrugged. “Hmmm is that so. You wouldn’t happen to draw something a lot?” Harry placed his index finger on his chin, tapping it in fake thoughtfulness. “Ok fine, I sort of know…” y/n doodled a lot of things around her notebooks and Harry had noticed. Mostly hamsas, lotus flowers, suns and moons. Things of the sort. He laughed having caught her in her feeble lie. “I want a little moon on my forearm and a sun on the other, or maybe a lotus on my shoulder, I haven’t decided” “Well–” he stretched, pulling his arm out of her grip, stopping her from tracing anymore of his tattoos, the butterflies were getting too unbearable– “I’ve an appointment this weekend, yeh can come along if yeh want, see what it’s like” Y/n’s eyes lit up like a kid in christmas’s. “Really?!” Harry shrugged as if it was no biggie. “That’d be awesome! Thank you!” She gave him another hug and he chuckled. Before she could pull away he asked. “So. Chemistry?” And laughter exploded from his chest when her response was a deep long groan and a slap to his shoulder.

The weekend rolled around fast, and y/n was excited to see the tattoo parlor, but Harry was sure a lot of her commotion also came from having aced a chemistry lab practice the day before. She giggled with glee, as she tugged Harry’s arm when they turned the corner on their walk to the place, and she finally laid eyes on the parlor. His friend and ex roommate Nick Grimshaw was the artist he was going to see, and Harry knew that surely with a quick text he could arrange it so y/n watched the whole process and got to talk to an actual tattooist about what she envisioned without a previous date. Nick had agreed, not before teasing him if this was the same y/n Harry usually spoke very smitten about, and congratulating him for it with a cheeky grin Harry could read from the simple blue bubble of words in his text app.

“‘Arry!” Was the first thing Nick said when the man waltzed in with y/n close behind, eyes dancing around the place and the wonderful art plastered on the walls. Tattoos drawn on paper, waiting to be inked onto skin, and photos of happy clients posing with their latest work. She marveled at the idea of being on that wall, but she liked the simple thought of just having her own tattoo a lot more.

“Nicholas!” The two men hugged and swayed from side to side as two brothers that had gone long without seeing each other, even though Harry saw Nick pretty much monthly, whether at the parlor, the gym, or the bar he would rarely visit but Nick frequented. Nick proceeded to pinch his arm at the name. He hated being called Nicholas and Harry always did it, to push his buttons. Harry giggled, adjusting his glasses on his face, and y/n blushed. She didn’t know why she did, but she couldn’t help it after finding Harry’s little laugh cute. It was a strange feeling. Not necessarily bad, but strange nonetheless. She dismissed it.  “Hi. ‘M Nick.” “Y/N” she said, shaking the skinny man’s hand and looking at the sprinkle of tattoos that laced his arms. “What will I be doing for yeh lads today then” Nick hopped – literally hopped– behind the counter, pulling out a folder with Harry’s name and handing it to him. She peaked when he opened it. It was full of designs, some she’s seen on his body, some new. Harry noticed her intrigued but confused look.  “Nick compiles art he thinks I’ll like, fo’ when I come in without a clear idea” she nodded in silence, having decided to just watch and learn for the time being. “What can I say” Nick shrugged “I’m a good foocking friend” Harry rolled his eyes and sighed “Yeh wish.” He closed the folder and sighed, tapping his fingers on the folded paper. “Think it’s time fo’ the tiger” “Oooh” Nick clapped in excitement, leaving y/n completely lost. They obviously talked about this a lot, and Nick probably tattooed Harry all the time, so of course they had some sort of inside talk that y/n was not going to understand. Harry took a seat while Nick fished the design. It was a wonderful tiger, the details impeccable and of a decent size. Y/N was left to stare in shock, mouth agape, when she saw Harry rolling up the basketball shorts he’d donned for the day, immediately understanding why he wasn’t in his usual slacks or skinny jeans. He was clearly thinking about this tattoo for a while. Nick cleaned and prepared the area and after a short conversation about size, position and other details, the buzz of the tattoo gun and Harry’s faint, short hisses every once in a while, filled the silence of the empty parlor.

Somewhere around an hour and a half, Nick pulled back, examining his art. Harry’s eyes were red and his face showed a slight discomfort as y/n sat there, all she could do was stare. She had asked minor questions here and there, like if it was hurting Harry to which he said it wasn’t so bad, and things relating to herself getting a tattoo, like where should she start to avoid the most pain, how does the whole process work and so on. She even found herself staring at some of Nick’s tattoos, and when he noticed, he laughed. “If yeh’re looking at the ugly penguin there, ‘Arry did it, tha’s why it’s foocking gross” causing Harry to complain and smack Nick across the head, the parlor filling with their laughs “Watch it! Who’s got the gun ‘ere, huh?”

“Ok miss…” Nick started after taking a long sip from his water bottle and stretching from his hunched position. Harry let his shorts down, covering the wrapped thigh and moved from the chair. “Yer turn, I ‘spose?”

Harry fixed his glasses on his face, thinking maybe y/n might be scared of doing this today, on such short notice, and he was ready to give her his speech about how if she had even the smallest of, doubts she should leave it for another day, but was surprised when she pulled out her phone and turned to Nick, showing him what he could only assume was inspiration for what she wanted. “So that, but… maybe this style? And this size?” she murmured. Every time Harry tried to get a peak she’d move and Nick pushed him back jokingly. He got the drift. It was going to be a surprise for both of them, it seemed like. “Tha’s sick! Love the effect.” “Yeah? It’s so wonderful, right? Think you can do that?” Nick gasped, faking offense. “Harry why is she doubting me?–” He asked while giving y/n a playful glare and making them both laugh– “Lay on the chair doll, DaVinci will drop dead again when I’m done”

It was Harry’s turn to be shocked when y/n laid face down and removed her shirt. He tried his best to remain calm despite the obvious deep red shade his cheeks had taken. He swallowed back a grunt and gave Nick a death glare when the man, behind y/n’s back, insinuated at Harry with a look that screamed ‘hot damn, look at that’ to him.

This was a bad idea. Y/N was getting her back tattooed and Harry didn’t dare to look. Both because she obviously wanted to surprise herself and him with the final result, and also because he didn’t think he could stand there in the tingling pain from his own freshly inked tattoo, looking at her bare back – bra straps open and down her shoulder – for long without collapsing or needing a cold shower. It was all he could do to stifle in a moan or keep from imagining her, face down on his bed as he sank himself…

That was enough.

He turned around, fidgeting with his glasses on his face to keep his hands busy.

Harry always knew Nick was good. Great even. The work he did on y/n was amazing and she kept giggling over it as she arched her neck to try and get a better glimpse. “Oh my god” she kept repeating in whispers “I am in love with it” she hopped up and down in excitement making Nick smile proudly. It was some of his best work yet. The tattoo wasn’t in itself complicated, with much detail, or of a big enough size to take hours and hours of work, but it was the simple fading and style of it what made it so unique and hard to master. He took pride in his good work, mentally patting himself on the back. “Make sure t’take care of it. Harry can help yeh. ‘S a hard spot to reach” he murmured, slyly winking in Harry’s direction who just took to rolling his eyes at his friend.

Y/n and Harry were almost out the door after smiles and goodbyes, tips for tending a tattoo, and more praise over Nick’s work when y/n snapped out of her seemingly post tattoo haze, stopping dead in her tracks. “I have to pay! Oh my god” she exploded in a fit of laughter, turning around to Nick to ask how much she owed. “No no. No need” He assured her as Harry fidgeted behind her figure. “What? No way. Let me pay, you can’t give me this for free” “Oh, ‘s alright darling” he winked at her, pushing her out of the parlor, not before nodding his head in Harry’s direction and giving her a small wink, whispering “It’s all covered” before sending her off.

Y/n whined Harry’s ear off the whole way back, and even when he sneaked into her room past the allowed hours – not without getting flustered over it before – she continued to do so no matter how many times he’d promised her it was okay. “Let me pay you back” “No, it’s fine” he chuckled, sitting on her bed and letting out a sigh. The area of his tattoo was still covered and just slightly itchy. Y/N dismissed him, turning to look at her new tattoo in the mirror and silently plotting ways to pay him back some day when he least expected it. She wouldn’t let that nice gesture pass, and he was already doing entirely too much.

Harry decided to play a little game he’d played with her before and quiz her on her test she had the day prior and all the other knowledge he’d been helping her with, in a way to keep her memory fresh with the concepts. Y/N groaned at first, not wanting to study on a saturday at all but complied, and so the tossing of a random plastic toy she kept in her room began. Harry would ask, the throw getting more difficult as the questions got tougher, and they walked around her room to keep her on her toes and active. “And that is?” “Thermochemistry” “Who’s the father of it” “Uh, trick question?” “Hmmm, wrong y/n.” “Hess? Laplace? Both?” Harry shrugged “Come on!” “Fine, trick question. It had like 6 fathers. Now-” He motioned at her to toss him the little toy before she interrupted. “Fuck off, Harry” She exploded in a fit of laughter, which he joined in soon after, falling back on her small couch, throwing it back at a distracted Harry with a bit of force given her laid back position. “Ow!” Harry bit back when the somewhat sharp and hard edge of it smacked him in the side of the jaw. “Oh, fuck! Sorry!”

The hard toy had left a red spot on his jaw, right at the side from his chin, surely to cause a little bump in the future and its sharp edge drew the tiniest bit of blood that he caught on his fingertips when he touched the skin. Y/N immediately piped up, rushing to him, apology after apology slipping through her lips.

It seemed like lately y/n had turned into his at home doctor, as she had tended for his bruises and cuts more than anyone ever, in just the past week. Harry found himself sat on the edge of her bed, once more being taken care of by her delicate fingers, chin pulled up and jutted out, as her other hand kept his head in place. She continued to apologise even though he’d repeatedly said it was all okay, quickly falling silent after she assumed a knelt position right in front of him, practically straddling him as her legs perched on either side of his one recently tattooed thigh. “How’s it look?” he asked timidly. “Well…–“ she sighed dramatically– “You have a magnet for injuries, Harry, but-” he laughed at her statement, a deep, small laugh, brain too fuzzy over the fact that she was this close. Again y/n blushed when he did so. She had found it that she liked it when Harry smiled or laughed. It could be either cute and giggly which made her very giggly back, or it could be a very deep, very manly chuckle that had her feeling something she couldn’t quite place but had come to like, quite a lot. Whatever it was, she wanted more of it. Whatever it was she wanted more of Harry’s smiling face in her life.

In the time she’s known Harry she had to admit she wanted to poke his dimples whenever they came up, and now her hands were so close she couldn’t stop herself from reaching up and placing her finger on the small dip. Harry was surprised, back immediately tensing at her action. Their eyes met; him looking down from his upturned chin and her looking up to catch his curious eyes, giving him a smile Harry couldn’t return. Behind him, his arms extended towards the sheets, he took them by the fistfuls to try and keep some grasp of the real world. God, she didn’t know, he thought to himself, she didn’t know just how fast his heart was running, where the blood was rushing, where his mind was wandering.

Y/n was confused. She never wanted more of Harry than what he was already giving to her. Granted that was a lot, for he was always there and so helpful, but she thought it was what he allowed, and now she was tingling for just a little more. She was itching for the closeness, and she didn’t know why or when it started. Her fingers had gone from just poking his dimple to fully cradling his cheek, both their faces levelling to look at each other from a better angle, time slowly pulling back. Harry’s breath hitched. “It looks good” she whispered, careful that her nose didn’t crash against the tip of his, as his eyes glistened with something she couldn’t decipher. “I–” Harry swallowed. She was talking about his small injury but he’d be lucky if he remembered his own name at this point. He wanted to push just the slightest bit, to reach forward and end the weight that had taken over his chest. What was she doing? What was this? His brain ran a million thoughts at the same time and he couldn’t focus on a single one. And then she made them all stop in the most electrifying of ways.

Her knees started to give out as she relaxed into the feeling of being so close to Harry and whatever it had settled on the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t butterflies, but they tingled just the same. She was buzzing. It was close to that feeling when she was overheating with desire, but she refused to call it that. There was no way she felt that way for Harry. There was no way she felt any way for Harry. Right?

Harry was already having a hard time after his tattoo – the buzz that he always got from the slight pain doubling thanks to the fact she had also gotten a tattoo with him and she was now like this on him – and in his mind it wasn’t fair that she could make him feel like this so easily. It wasn’t fair that she had him at the palm of her hand. He was already about to give out, every emotion overflooding inside him. The courage he had for a lot of things was gone for this one, until he couldn’t hold anything anymore.

Her weight came down on him just the smallest of fractions. On his inked thigh, where he was most sensitive right now besides between his legs. His eyes closed shut as he swallowed back a hiss and his hands jolted. Y/n didn’t understand what was happening, she just stared at his face, contorting in something that resembled pain, but he hadn’t cried out for anything. She sank just the tiniest bit lower, putting more pressure on him, making his imagination run wild and he just couldn’t keep it to himself. Harry audibly gasped, the shadow of a moan caught in the back of his throat as his hands jumped to hold the sides of y/n’s waist. He pushed in, just holding her in place, as if trying to make her stop sinking onto him any longer, despite his deep urge to dip her down to ride his thigh. Stop Harry, stop, he kept trying to make himself recover his sanity, but y/n, sweet, gorgeous and forever torturing y/n, either was so lost her naiveness just sank her further, or she knew exactly what she was doing.

Harry figured it was a mix of both as she whispered his name and sat lower on his thigh and her fingers grabbed the back of his neck as he let out a longer moan, head rolling back lightly. “F-fuck” he whispered at the sensation of her moving slightly forward, sliding up his leg. His hips rolled forwards as well, making her bite her lip and shut her eyes closed. Harry felt his rational mind slowly slip away, the same way the whispery words slipped without permission out of his shaky mouth “G-god, please, just let me fuck yeh” his fingers digging into her skin, pulling her down onto him.

Y/N jolted at the feeling, as if suddenly awake, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking at him with widened eyes. Harry did the same, shock and embarrassment running through his features before they were painted over red. Y/n sat up on her knees once more, pulling away from his thigh and his hands let go of her frame, immediately slapping against his babbling mouth. “I- I’m-” “Harry…” she whispers. His hands drop back to her waist, only to pry her off his body and onto her mattress as Harry makes it his task to pick up all his things in a hurry. He has to leave, he has to run out of there and never come back, he’s ruined it all. “I shouldn’t h-have- I didn’t- F-fuck. I m-mean- I’m sorry- God- fuck” He’s cursing under his breath, ruffling his hair in nervousness, his glasses in his hands and he can’t stop wiping at them in embarrassment.  “Harry, listen” she tries to get him to stop but he’s stuck like a broken record. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I am so terribly sorry” he continues to say, face red and chest heaving up and down, anxiety filled tears ready to run down his cheeks. It’s suddenly impossible for him to catch a breath. 

Y/N is up on her feet, nervous and red as well – she can’t believe what just happened– but before she can reach forth and grab his arm to try and calm him down, he’s bolting out of her room and she’s ripped of the chance to explain herself. 

She’s left alone in her room, confused and upset. Her door slowly shutting close as she lets her body flop on her bed, a hand touching her hot cheek, the other sprawled on her chest feeling her rushing heartbeat, soon making it’s way down her body where she can feel her arousal that was cut short, cupping her womanhood over her clothes in frustration.

She was ripped of the chance to tell him that the only thing that jolted her out of the trance wasn’t the tingly feeling his warm hands gave her over the fabric of her clothes, or the heat pooling between her legs, or her own hitched breath. What snapped her out of it were her own surprising thoughts that she wanted more and more and more.

And now she fears she’s not going to get it. 

THAT’S THE TAT BUT ON HER BACK? LIKE UP LIKE CLOSE TO HER RIGHT SHOULDER BLADE?

Thanks for reading! FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED PLEASE!!! I want to know what you think of this AND ALSO INPUT YOUR THOUGHTS ON WHAT PART FOUR CAN BRING AFALKSJDFHASLJFHD

I can’t leave y’all with Harry never getting sex so there WILL be a part four whahaha. Anyways, do let me know what should happen next what you thought etc etc! please! I Beg!

Smooches Iv. XO.

Although, when he thought about it, now that he had finished working at the tech place he had been working as a paid intern at, he didn’t have to wear the mandatory vests, so everyone would see his tattoos full on display when he went back to class later in the afternoon not in his classic button up. His contract ended and he didn’t want to continue working there. Instead he applied to go back to his first part time job at the bakery down the road. He figured he had saved up enough money working at a boring tech firm long enough, so he just waited until his contract was up and packed up his things. He was grateful for the experience and all the things he’d learned but he was about ready to go to a much more fun job that would still give him enough cash to get through campus living. It all worked perfectly with his changed schedule, plus he enjoyed the smell of freshly baked goods any time of the day.

He rushed to the showers right after his routine was over. He stretched in the boxing area, still cautious that y/n wouldn’t spot him, and ran to get clean and changed into some comfortable post-workout attire. Pushing his glasses up his nose he took a big breath before walking as fast as he could without looking like a lunatic, over to the staircase that led to the exit of the gym. He kept his gaze down. Maybe if I don’t look up she won’t see me, he kept thinking to himself in a clearly dumb logic. It’s not that he didn’t want to see her – God, all he wanted to do was see her, no matter when. And talk to her – but it was the latter he could never do when she was in front of him, so he would rather avoid running into her all together so that he’d never end up looking like a nitwit in front of her again.

It’s obvious that if you’re not looking at something other than your feet as you walk, you are bound to crash into something, anything, at some point. Which is exactly what happened to Harry. He felt his body collide with another body and with his luck, before his brain could figure out the shapes and colours, he already knew he had crashed straight into y/n, and since they were at the very top of the stairs, the blow had sent her almost tumbling over. His reflexes kicked in and his hands reached out as he pulled her to him, keeping her from barrelling down the flight of steps.

With wide eyes and at this proximity Harry noticed the light in her eyes, and the redness to her cheeks that was extremely adorable and making him blush and stumble over his words.

“I-I… M’ so sorry!” she smiled at him one of her signature sweet smiles and for a second Harry wondered why he needed cardio after all.

“It’s ok! Hi Harry! I didn’t see you here, came for a workout?” Inside her mind she was slapping herself, because what else could someone go to the gym for? She didn’t know why but Harry made her a bit clumsy. She liked his company; the sudden inexplicable nerves that came with it? Not so much.

“Uh y-yeah. I umm… I took b-boxing back up…”

It was funny to watch. How they both seemed to be at a loss for words, how they both looked a lot more flustered than someone who’d just finished a workout routine. How Harry still had his arm around her and held her very close to his frame. Although this one he noticed and he immediately let go of her, careful not to push her back too harshly, as he cleared his throat.

“Would you like to grab breakfast with me?” she asked suddenly and Harry didn’t know what to answer. So he did what he knew how to do best: fix his glasses incessantly. It was a nervous tick. He’d remove them and wipe them and fidget them back on, tap at them, then push and pull and push and pull as his brain wracked for something to say, or rather tried to remember how to tell the mouth the correct positions to go to so that he could form words.

“I just… I uh… I have c-class…” it wasn’t a lie. He did have class… In four hours. But y/n didn’t know that and all she could do was nod as she made him promise that next time he’d grab a bite to eat with her after the gym, to which Harry had to say yes – not that he wasn’t dying to – and continued playing with his glasses during.

Deep down Harry knew he would never be able to grab a casual bite with the girl that flooded his dreams, the girl that made him reconsider running the treadmill – beyond everything, the conversation had left him breathless and with a heartbeat he could worriedly call a doctor about – the girl that made his chest and pants tight at just the glance of her hips in the fitting activewear she donned for the day. But it was nice to imagine. It was nice to wonder. To think that he could be the confident guy who asks her instead, and takes her out and keeps a nice conversation flowing, enough so he can charm her in some way that she’d want to hang out with him more and more.

It was nice to imagine.

And he didn’t need to imagine it much because he found himself being silently beckoned over by a whispering y/n that same night at the library.

“Hey” she spoke in hushed tones as he sat down in front of her with shaky hands and taking a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Harry let out a tiny “hi” in response and forced his eyes to focus on the textbooks in front of him. Y/N understood, after all she was here to study as well.

It was hard not to notice her struggle silently after a while. She kept sighing and every time she erased something she did it a bit more furiously than the last. It was difficult for Harry not to take a peek at her exercises from over the rim of his glasses. With a small grin he figured out the answer to the question with ease in his mind, and leaned his hand over to her notes, circling down the correct option as she looked at him amused and confused.

“It’s Thermochemistry…” he whispered leaning back to pay attention to his notes.

“What?” was all she asked and Harry lifted his book so she could see the front. Of course he was taking Chemistry IV when she was on her second time taking Chem 101 and on her way to fail it again. “How?” she asked to which he just shrugged. Chemistry was his thing. He liked it. In fact he was taking it as extra credits, quite literally just for fun.

“I like it” Harry said taking a quick glance at the clock and noticing it was about time to go. The library was closing soon and y/n also got the hint, hurriedly picking up after herself while staring at Harry. To y/n, any one that liked or could deal with chemistry was a study case. It was her worst subject all through high school, and all the time she lost pulling at her roots to learn it made her eventually hate the matter, so she couldn’t understand how someone could get any of it, let alone also like it to the point of needing or wanting to take the subject 4 times, each with more complex topics than the last. In that moment, Harry seemed like an alien of some sort – specially cause his green eyes never cease to look extremely green – but he also looked like an angel. A blessing.

Harry found himself agreeing to y/n’s claims for the second time that day. Whatever she said – no matter how hard it made it for him to breathe and how much anxiety the thought of her caused him – he found himself nodding to. In his nervous tick he started messing with his glasses when she asked him the craziest thing ever.

“T-tutor… you? Me? I mean…” Her eyes were shining as they walked side by side down the field and in the direction of her building. She nodded excitedly, quietly begging for him to agree. When you put it in perspective it was logical. If you are failing a subject and know someone that could help, why not ask them to help? But even in his smart brain, the situation sounded so insane and out of this world. Him? Tutor her? His palms were already sweaty and his mind felt like it was starting to forget the most basic of the elements in the periodic table. Was it Helium, Lithium, Beryllium? Where was Oxygen again? Still, he was saying yes and agreeing on a time and a place before he knew it. 

Biology wasn’t his best subject, but he believed there had to be some substance she expelled out of her body to make him agree to whatever she asked for so easily.

“Not bad” Harry hummed, reading over one of the exercises he’d asked y/n to do, pushing his hair out of his face and sliding his glasses up his nose as he scribbled on the sides of the paper. Compared to how little he had explained so far and how much she seemed to be struggling, the sheet had more correct answers than he thought he would achieve on the second day of tutoring her.

Y/N was sat at his desk in his dorm room and Harry’s sweaty palms had calmed down a lot since she arrived an hour before. The whole idea of tutoring her was still crazy to him, specially when in the back of his mind he knew that before she was set to arrive, he had taken a nap and dreamt, once more, of her riding his thigh and moaning his name in his ear, and Harry just had to jerk himself off quickly before the real y/n showed up at his door. It was hard to look at her smiling face whenever she understood a concept, and not picture how much he would like to have her spread on his mattress under his body, or wonder how accurate her real life moans were compared to the ones his subconscious made in his imagination, but Harry was making his best efforts to continue focused despite the looming memory of that one dream.

“Awesome!” she chirped back, reading Harry’s notes on the sides of her exercises and putting them in her backpack to revise later. Letting out a sigh she picks up the rest of her materials and books. “I’m spent, and hungry” y/n groans and Harry can’t help but chuckle. Thankfully the past study sessions had also served him to not be so stuttery and shy around her, allowing him to get somewhat comfortable when it came to talking to her.

To him it seemed like a miracle that he’d ever be able to be fairly casual around y/n, but he was handling it so well he even surprised himself – and y/n a little – when he let out a “Let’s go grab something to eat then” after she’d stretched and gotten up from her seated position with a smile after Harry’s statement.

That’s how, 15 minutes later, y/n finds herself sat in a booth at a burger joint in front of a Harry that she’d started getting to know slowly. Deep down she was also thankful that she seemed to be getting along with Harry smoothly, knowing how strangely nervous she would get around him. A few weeks back she was completely convinced that Harry never saw her as a friend, considering how he basically avoided talking to her, but she’s glad to see him speaking freely and see herself laughing along with the curly lad as they joke over what’s left of her serving of fries. And y/n didn’t know it then, but Harry felt the same way.

“You know…” she starts, intrigued and amused by how quickly they had grown more comfortable around each other “I always thought you didn’t like me” Y/N’s cheeks are flushed red under Harry’s strong gaze through his frames.

“What? Why?” Harry wonders out loud, fixing his glasses around. How could she think he didn’t like her? Quite contrary, he was shocked she didn’t already know he died inside every time he caught a glimpse of her smiling his way. Y/N shrugs.

“I don’t know, we never really talked much” “I did like yeh. I do.” the words come out of his mouth before he can stop them, and so Harry’s left scrambling to make sure his actual feelings aren’t exposed on the booth’s table. “I mean, you uh… You j-just looked nice and... and I never really knew w-what to say to you, s-so I… I don’t know I k-kept my distance?” luckily y/n nods, understanding what he meant.

“You know what you could have talked to me about?” “What?” “Chemistry 101. We had it together! Maybe I wouldn’t be taking it for the second time if you had spoken to me back then” she jokes, mocking anger and pointing at him accusingly, making Harry throw his head back in laughter. “Oh god. Yeah, maybe” he says, shrugging after taking a deep breath and sip from his soda “but I didn’t want you to hold me back” he smirks, biting back at her joke making her gasp in shock. “Harry!” and they both continue to poke fun at each other and fill the small restaurant with loud laughs that could easily get them kicked out if it wasn’t for the fact that the place was almost empty.

The laughs they share and details they discover about each other, keeps both Harry and y/n busy enough not to see the seething stares of one young bully from across the street. Jonathan’s fists tighten at the sight, almost drawing blood, and if his personal vendetta with Harry wasn’t already personal enough, this had just made it.

Walking to and from his dorm to class was about a level 4 out of 10 of a dangerous situation for Harry. He tried to do it early, or when a lot of people were around so he could blend in and escape Jonathan whenever he could.

And in hindsight, Harry wonders if he’d been more alert and less occupied on what he would teach y/n later that afternoon – and how cute she’ll look once again – maybe he would have noticed that, this time around, Jonathan had a hawk-like vision driven by rage and hunger for his target, him. Maybe he would have noticed that today Jonathan seemed a lot more angry than any other time he’d faced the broad shoulders of what many would call his nemesis. Maybe he would have been more prepared to receive the punch that left him blank for 10 seconds.

Harry couldn’t pinpoint it at the moment, but every kick and shove, came with a venomous tongue, like Jonathan had wanted to inflict so much more damage than ever before. Harry’s ears rang as he felt another blow to his head, and he stumbled back, books long forgotten and glasses surely broken at his side. Was this what getting the shit beat out of you was? Was this his death? He wondered, but thankfully a passerby turned out to be a friend, that rushed to his aid, and through a blurry view, he made the outline of a man that helped him back to his dorm.

Y/N almost about screamed at the sight.

“Oh my god!” she said letting her books drop to the ground and entering Harry’s room, grabbing his face in her hands and inspecting all the bruises. A purple eye, scrapes and scratches along his cheeks, a busted lip and dried blood all around his features. “What the fuck?!”

Harry winced stepping back from her and letting his body down on his mattress. He waved his hand at her, dismissing the issue like it was no big deal, saying it looked worse than it felt, which didn’t ease y/n’s mind in the least, as she dropped to her knees in front of Harry and took a closer look.

“Harry…” “‘M fine, S’just a purple eye and a scrape ‘ere and there” “This is not just a-” “I’m fine” he says taking a hold of her hand and giving her a comforting smile that does anything but comfort her, but she drops it for the time being, looking to his bedside table, where his spare glasses sat untouched next to the broken ones, and handing him back the bag of ice he apparently had pressed to his face before she arrived. Harry insisted on continuing his chemistry tutoring, claiming that if his memory didn’t fail him, her teacher was one for surprise quizzes.

“Harry…” y/n mumbled, poking at his side. He kept swaying and dozing off on her and her worry levels were at about 15 out of 10. “Hm” he groans, shaking his head as if coming back to life. “Harry, please, I’m worried” “S’ nothing. Jus’ a headache… feeling a bit woozy” “What if you have a concussion?” she presses on, biting her lip in fear. Harry needed a doctor ASAP and he was being so stubborn not letting her take him to one. Harry scoffed at her remark. “Christ, y/n, I don’t ‘ave a concussion” but his words were slurred and slower than usual, and the look on her face tugged at Harry’s heartstrings. She was fidgety and scared. He sighed “Fine… if it makes yeh feel any better, we’ll go to the emergency room” “Please!” y/n was on her feet and gathering her belongings in a flash, as Harry swayed to and fro, holding on to his throbbing head and taking slow steps towards her. Y/N tried her best to help the tall man leaning against her small frame on the way to her car, and in a rush towards a doctor before any of the very dark and horrible scenarios in her head could seep in.

Harry’s eye looked better and his wounds had been cleaned properly in a matter of minutes, by a nice nurse that kept reassuring y/n that her ‘boyfriend’ would be fine and she should stop worrying, but she couldn’t as she saw Harry, dead silent on a hospital bed and she sat by his side.

“No concussion miss, we’ve cleaned his wounds and gave him some medication for the pain, he might be a little dizzy and sleepy for a while. I’d recommend he sleeps it off” a doctor had told her with a soothing voice which relieved her greatly – at least the doctor had a voice that could calm her down, and the news she brought eased y/n visibly –

“Hmmm” Harry groaned, not bothering to open his eyes any wider than little slits, when y/n tried to get him back on his feet and towards her car after everything had been cleared up. Y/N took a deep breath in and out, trying her best not to worry anymore. He was fine. Nothing too bad had happened, and now he needed to rest. “C’mon you need to sleep” she gave him a soft smile as she helped him back into his dorm room and on the way to his bed and he groaned. “What time is it?” he whispered letting his body fall on the mattress. The headache was a lot less poignant and they had applied some ointment or whatever, on his eye that would help it miraculously heal faster. “Around 3:30, why?” “Ugh–” he grumbled – ”Have… a class soon”

Y/n’s hands pushed back at Harry’s chest immediately sensing that he’d want to get up and get on his way to a class that he clearly wasn’t in good enough state to attend to. “Jesus, no, Harry.” “I 'afta...” “You can’t attend a class this way. You need to sleep, and that’s final” she added with a stern voice anticipating his interruption. Harry let himself be tucked in by y/n’s delicate hands. “Can’t miss it… Exam soon” his words were cut short, his body ready to shut down, drunk with numbing drugs that he could no longer fight against. “I… I’ll go take notes for you, okay? But you need to sleep” “I have a… complicated note system” “Of course you do” y/n giggles. “I’ll try my best”

Any other moment Harry would refute, but just this one time he nodded to her words and allowed his eyes to close for a second, his bed had something like a magnetic pull suddenly, felt comfier than ever to his bruised body. “Just record it, yeah?” “I got it, no problem. Do call me if you need me, anything, I’ll be back after my class at 5, yeah?” and like a child being taken care of his mother when he was sick, Harry hummed an agreement and felt y/n’s lips drop a small kiss on his forehead. “Take… key” he says however he can, pointing to his keychain by the door so y/n can let herself back in afterwards, in case he was still knocked out from the medication, before settling into his covers with a groan of pain. And with that y/n left to try and make sense of a sociology class and Harry’s complex yet precise note taking system.

Even in a drug heavy nap, Harry can make the outline of y/n’s bare body in his dream, and it’s around two hours later when he wakes up alert, and much more relieved, that he decides he needs a cold shower for two reasons before y/n came back.

He takes a moment in his shower to think about how his life seems to be a dream itself. He still has a hard time accepting the fact that he’s been talking and hanging out with y/n more and more the last few days, and that he can now laugh and joke around her. His heart still beats the same erratic way and his blood rushes in his veins like it used to, and she still haunts his dreams most of the time, waking him up in a sweat and with an itch to press her down on his body, but now he gets to have the real y/n a lot closer than he used to and it’s messing with his head in ways he doesn’t know how to deal with yet.

He’s just stepping out of the shower and into his room, clad in a towel wrapped around his hips and with the cold air nipping at his shoulders, where droplets of water fall from the curly tips of his hair, when the door to his dorm is closed shut after y/n allows herself in. She’s confused at the sight of Harry’s bed being empty only to turn around and crash with his wet naked torso.

“Oh god!” she’s quick to jump back, mimicking his steps in the opposite direction. Cheeks tainted a deep red the same as his. She only gets a quick glance of his body that assures her he is in fact nude, before covering her eyes from the view of Harry with just a loosely tightened towel around his most important parts. “Sorry! Sorry, oh god!”

Y/N was frozen in her spot and so was Harry. He stuttered and scrambled his way around his room to get dressed, holding y/n by her shoulders to move her out of the way of his drawers, as she did her best to keep her eyes away from the image of harry’s tatted nakedness.

When it was clear to look, Harry let her know with a lump in his throat from how awkward the whole interaction was, and y/n made sure to peek through the cracks in her fingers to test the waters, spotting Harry fully clothed, she sighed and proceeded to apologise some more. “I’m s-sorry, I… I should have knocked, I just, god” “I-it’s ok. Uh, yeah…” his fingers came up to fidget his glasses around and scratch at the back of his neck in embarrassment. He tried to focus on the fact that the situation was uncomfortable, and not think of how in his dreams a situation like that would have a very different outcome.

Dropping his notebook on his desk, y/n told him all she remembered of his class, the notes she’d taken were messy but Harry was surprised and touched that she’d tried her best at copying his note-taking style. She had done it with pencil – so in case she made any mistakes, Harry could arrange them later on – and the scribbles on the edges had multiple arrows pointed to different notes and asterisks. He chuckled at the small ‘sorry!’ she had written at the end of the notes, probably when the class had ended. “Thank you, y/n, really.” “No problem, It’s so messy, but hopefully you can understand” she smiled at him, sitting herself at the edge of his bed. “It’s great, it really is. Yeh didn’t have to” he says with his dimples showing and cheeks blushing, sitting down next to her. “Which reminds me…” he says reaching back and pulling out a notebook that seems to be filled front to back “Right ‘ere… ’S my Chem 101 notebook. Figured it’d help yeh a bit t’have it” he hands her the book that is in perfect condition considering it’s been a year and a half since he last touched it or the book has seen the light. “Oh my! Thank you!” y/n’s smile is big and making Harry’s heart do a lot more flips than he thought was humanly possible or healthy.

Y/N couldn’t help but stare at his bruises, happy he seemed to be much more awake and no longer in as much pain, but still sour that he’d even had to go through it in the first place. Harry notices how she grows silent and places his hand on her shoulder trying to comfort her. “Hey, stop… I’m okay” “I feel so bad…” “Don’t… You’ve done nothing wrong and you’ve nothing t’worry about” he says giving her a comforting smile trying to cheer her up, but he’s immediately caught of guard by the shine in her eyes that looks like tears. Y/N surprises him by wrapping her arms around him, causing them to lay down on his mattress in a cuddle. Harry’s heart is beating rapidly, his palms sweaty, and his eyes open wide in shock as y/n lets out soft sighs and sobs on his chest. He rubs loving circles on her back, confused as to why this is making her so upset. “Hey…” he whispers in her ear, pulling her close to his frame “Don’t cry. ’S okay” “I’m so sorry Harry.” “Y/n, it’s not your fault, please…” he stresses, but she shakes her head and looks up at him through tears, placing a hand on his cheek. Her eyes are glossy and her sad expression makes Harry’s heart ache for her, he wants her to smile, always, no matter how taken aback he is when she says her next words. “It is, Harry. It is my fault…”

Thanks for reading! I’m working on part three so that it can be posted in a few days, a week tops. FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED PLEASE!!! I want to know what you think of this and why you think y/n swears it’s her fault? hmmm. Part three will be the last one of this little Marcel story but there are more Marcel ideas in my drafts and I’d love to write more about this specific Marcel if you’d like me to :)

Smooches Iv. XO.