This account will be dedicated to all fanfic writers. It will be mostly Harry Styles fanfiction because that's usually what I read, but it's not solely Harry fics.
I have seen writers speak out on how people aren't as active or give feedback to their writing and while I do have a main blog and reblog and like their posts, I tend to rarely give any feedback or at least praise their writing and I wanted to start doing that.
I want writers to feel appreciated and loved. I would hate them to think their basically posting to the void.
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This is all my favorite fics so far ! I am very picky with what I like!
Summary: When Y/N and Harry broke up, he promised to stay friends. Then he vanished. Three years later, he’s back, turning her life upside down again. Between old grudges, impulsive kisses, and lingering touches, Y/N wonders if she ever really moved on.
Word count: 10k
Warnings: mention of mental health issues (depression), angst, smut
A/N: Okay! This is an emotional one, full of nostalgia and longing and lots of angst. I started it two years ago (omg) and came back to it recently. Y/N is a med student here, in the first couple years of school (excuse any inconsistencies pls)
MASTERLIST
***
He said we could be friends. I think about that promise often.
The breakup was as amicable as it could be. We talked in circles until there was nothing left to say, until the truth was staring us in the face: something wasn’t working. It’s never easy walking away from someone you still love, especially after convincing yourself for so long that love could carry you through anything, that love would be enough. It feels naive now, but back then, it looked like hope.
That was three years ago. He said we could be friends. And I never saw him again. Until today.
“Y/N?”
I wish I could say that I didn’t recognize his voice, that I’d forgotten what he sounds like. But I recognized it instantly. Like an old song you haven’t heard in years but still remember every word to.
I turn around to find him standing next to the avocados, wearing a white button-up with the top two buttons undone, his swallow tattoos peeking out. Black pants and scuffed Vans. His hair is longer than I remember but not by much. Nothing like the first year of our relationship, when it fell past his shoulders. I still remember the day he chopped it all off.
“Harry,” I say calmly, even though my heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“Hey, it’s… nice to see you again.” He steps forward tentatively, shoving his hands into his pockets. “How’ve you been?”
“Good.” I realize how tightly I’m clutching the bag of tomatoes in my hands, and I consciously loosen my grip. “How about you?”
“I’ve been alright.”
“I heard you moved back to London,” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.
He looks down. “Yeah. But I’m here for a few weeks, visiting a friend.” He pauses, clears his throat, and looks back up at me. “So, what’ve you been up to—”
“Excuse me.” A woman tries to pass by Harry with her shopping cart, glaring at him for blocking the aisle.
“Oh, sorry.” He quickly steps aside and refocuses his attention on me. “Maybe we could grab a coffee at the spot next door—”
“I actually have to go. But it was good seeing you again.” I force a smile.
“Oh. Yeah. Good seeing you, too.”
Before he can say anything else, I make a beeline for the exit. It’s only when I’m two feet from the door that I realize I still have the tomatoes I haven’t paid for. I drop them in the nearest shopping cart, feeling only slightly guilty about it, and bolt.
***
For months after the breakup, I wondered what I’d do if I ran into him. I imagined myself falling apart in his arms, confessing how much I missed him and that I love him and that I’m sorry. I knew the breakup wasn’t anyone’s fault, but I still felt guilty for the hurt I’d caused him.
After a year of imagining these emotional reunions that never came, it became clear that I probably wouldn’t see him again. Then I heard he’d moved back to London, and I finally accepted that he was likely gone for good. By that point, my guilt had been displaced by a low-level resentment. He had essentially ghosted me, and I had to find out from someone else that he’d left the country. His decision to cut me off so coldly and abruptly, like severing a necrotized limb, made sense and didn’t at the same time. I understood, yet I was bitter. But I was moving on, too.
A couple months ago marked three years since the breakup. I only realized while lying in bed that night how little I had thought about him that day. He had become a distant memory. It was no wonder that seeing him at the store this morning was so disorienting. It had taken so long to get him out of my goddamn mind, to move on. And then he just materialized out of nowhere, reminding me that I can never fully let go.
I try to forget about the encounter by busying myself with chores when I get home, but it’s hard. My mind keeps drifting back to him, picturing his deep green eyes and wondering which friend he was visiting. We had a lot of mutual friends from college. Could it be one of them?
It’s not until I open my anatomy textbook to prepare for tomorrow’s lecture that I’m able to put the thoughts to rest. Later that evening, I check my friends’ group chat and see that they’re meeting up at Jacki’s tonight. Normally, I would embody the stereotype of the miserable med student by staying in, head buried in my textbooks, but I could use a drink or two tonight.
***
Jacki’s is a board game bar in the middle of town. It opened in my last year of undergrad and quickly became a staple for my friend group. After graduation, everyone got swept up in the whirlwind of new careers and grad school, so we stopped going for a while. We’ve only started going back recently.
It’s busier than usual for a Wednesday night. I head straight to the back. The front of the bar is usually packed with younger people more interested in getting hammered than playing games.
I hear Niall’s laughter before I see him.
“Hey, Y/N’s here!” Leah calls out when she spots me. Next to her is Mateo, her fiance. They started dating after graduation, which was a shock to us all, considering how much they’d despised each other in uni. I attended their engagement party earlier this year.
“Well, well, well. Look who finally emerged from her cave,” Niall teases.
“And I already regret it,” I reply with a sarcastic grin.
“You won’t be saying that once we get some shots in ya.”
I’m distracted by a familiar figure at the table. His back is to me, but as he turns around, his eyes settle on mine.
“Oh, yeah, um, Harry’s here,” says Niall.
“I can see that,” I reply sharply before taking a seat next to Niall. A full shot glass sits in front of him. Without asking, I grab it and knock it back in one go.
“Wh— Hey! Get your own!” Niall protests.
I set the glass down with finality.
“So! What’ve I missed?”
***
I’ve never understood why my friends are so obsessed with drunk Monopoly, especially with the vast selection of board games available at this bar. I have a hunch they’re actually just addicted to arguing. Like a proper dysfunctional family.
Niall is now accusing Leah of stealing money from the bank. Mateo, of course, has to defend his future wife’s honour. I catch Harry’s eye in the midst of the chaos, and he shoots me an amused grin. I’ve been trying my best to avoid eye contact with him without making it obvious, but now I smile back briefly before looking away. I pretend I don’t notice his gaze linger on me for an extra few seconds.
He leaves to go use the restroom a while later.
Leah leans over. “For what it’s worth, we would’ve told you he was coming if we knew you’d be here, but you hardly come out with us anymore.”
“It’s all good,” I say, trying to play it cool. “By the way, do you know where he’s staying?”
Leah and Mateo silently turn to Niall, who coughs awkwardly.
I raise my brows. “He’s staying with you?”
“I was going to tell you, I swear—”
“It’s fine, Niall.”
“Really?”
“No, but I’ll get over it.”
They return to the game as Harry makes his way back to the table. He shifts his chair closer to me this time before sitting down and offering me the plate of fries at the end of the table.
“May I interest you in some fries?” he asks.
I grab one. “Thanks.”
He sets the plate down and eyes me tentatively. “You hate that I’m here.”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t need to. I’ve never seen someone sprint out of a supermarket as fast as you did this morning. How far did you get before realizing you were shoplifting tomatoes?”
“I made it to the door before I dropped them in some old lady’s cart.”
He chuckles.
“But seriously,” I add, “I don’t mind that you’re here.”
“You don’t mind? Okay. That’s one step up from ‘I wish you’d fuck off.’”
“It’s not exactly a huge step.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” he says with a shrug.
I try to suppress a grin.
I prepare to head home about an hour later, much to my friends’ dismay. That’s one of the downsides of being in med school while your friends are all established in their careers already—they have a lot more time and energy to stay out late and get drunk than you.
I make it only a few steps out into the pleasant September air when I hear my name. Turning around, I find Harry exiting the bar.
“Can I walk with you?” he asks.
“Are you sure you want to miss drunk Monopoly?”
“I think I’ll survive.”
I laugh. He falls into step beside me as we head in the direction of my apartment. We walk for quite a while without uttering a single word, but the silence feels natural. Like when we’d lie on the couch together, my feet in his lap, each of us buried in our own books or phones, not needing to fill the quiet.
“So, Dr. Y/L/N, I’ve got a question for you,” he says when we’re halfway to my apartment. It’s started drizzling since we left the bar, tiny raindrops kissing the pavement.
“Not a doctor yet,” I reply, smiling. He used to call me “doctor” all the time, his tone always threaded with a mix of teasing and encouragement. I would sometimes correct him, like I did now, but it always left me feeling warm and reassured that he believed in my ability to achieve this endeavour more than I did.
“You’re basically there,” he brushes it off like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Fine. What’s your question?”
His hands slip into his pockets, lips twitching up into a playful grin. “You see, I’ve got this mole on my left butt cheek. I’ve had it since I was a wee child—”
“Shut up.” I whack his arm.
He laughs, the familiar sound instantly putting me at ease. “Congrats on getting into med school, by the way. How’s that been going?”
“It’s been…” I search for the right words to sum up the late nights and the impostor syndrome and the deep feeling of fulfillment that my work brings me. “Challenging but rewarding.”
“You were never one to back down from a challenge.”
I notice the way he says it, like it’s something he has always known about me, and there’s that warm feeling in my chest again. I hesitate before asking, “How was London?”
“London was…” He shrugs, his gaze dropping as he kicks a pebble in his path. “You know. London.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “Oh, don’t be so mysterious. What have you been up to these past few years?”
He looks upward, his eyes tracing the cloudy night sky. “Let’s see. I backpacked through Europe with a couple mates, took some freelance writing gigs while I was traveling, built up some experience. Got back to London and landed a job at a publishing company.”
I can sense there’s more he’s not saying, but I don’t press him.
“Do you like it? The job?” I ask.
“Yeah, for now. I’d like to publish my own work someday. That’s still a work in progress. But for now, I’m content with it.”
When we reach my building, I stop and turn to face him. “Well, this is me.”
“That was a short walk.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking away with an expression I can’t quite place. Like he’s searching for something to say, some way to prolong the moment. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he wants me to invite him inside.
“I suppose I’ll head back then,” he says, his voice trailing off.
“Or you could stay,” I blurt out. “I mean, until the rain stops.” The “rain” is barely a mist, more of a damp kiss on the skin, but it’s easier than admitting I want him to stay.
“Are you sure? If you need to study, I don’t want to intrude—”
“I’m sure.”
There’s a beat of silence where neither of us moves. Then he smiles, his shoulders relaxing.
“Alright then. Lead the way.”
***
When we enter my apartment, I can sense Harry taking in how different everything looks. I moved out of the apartment we shared shortly after he disappeared. I couldn’t stay, of course. There were too many little reminders of him—everything from the books he left behind on the bookshelf to the scent of his shampoo that seemed to linger in the bathroom no matter how many times I cleaned the damn thing.
I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water, the faucet hissing in the silence. Behind me, Harry pulls off his hoodie and drapes it over the arm of the couch to dry.
“You finally got rid of that sofa with the weird stains,” he says, eyeing the smaller one that replaced it.
“I had to part ways with it after the fabric started ripping every time I sat down.”
He chuckles.
I set down my empty glass next to the sink. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Just some water.” He enters the kitchen. I expect him to look in the cupboard for a clean glass, but to my surprise, he grabs mine off the counter and fills it under the tap before chugging it down. He finishes the glass with a satisfied sigh, a subtle smirk on his face as he catches my reaction.
Our proximity makes my pulse race. I take a small step back, my mind racing to find something to say.
“You got a new tattoo.” I point to his right bicep, my fingertip just barely grazing his skin.
He looks down at it. “Yeah. A few, actually.”
That launches a whole conversation about all the new tattoos he got and where he got them. It turns out most of them were from his backpacking trip after the breakup. Some people cope by getting blackout drunk. Others ink their skin. I coped by distracting myself with other men. It worked about as well as you’d expect.
I’m on the couch now with my feet tucked under me, while he sits on my faded floral rug. We broke out my stash of cheap wine, and I start to feel like I’m catching up with an old friend. I almost forget about our history until he says, “I was really happy when Niall told me you’re in med school. I know how hard you worked to get here. How’d it feel when you got in?”
“Surreal. It didn’t even sink in until my first day of class.” I remember the day I found out. I screamed in my room, then called everyone I knew. Everyone except the one person I wanted to tell most.
“I wish you’d called,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t think you’d want me to. I mean, you disappeared without even telling me.” I can’t hide the betrayal in my voice.
He rubs the back of his neck, not meeting my gaze. “You broke up with me, Y/N.”
I frown. “It was a mutual decision. And you said we could be friends. Why say that if you didn’t mean it?”
“I did mean it. At the time.”
“Then what changed?”
He shrugs, pulling at a loose thread on the rug. “I didn’t know how to be around you after. I thought I could do it, but I couldn’t.”
“So, instead of telling me that, you ran away. Just ghosted without a word. I had to find out from Niall.” I can feel myself getting heated and I don’t know how to stop.
His jaw tightens. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“You still ran.”
“No,” he states firmly. “I left. There’s a difference. And you were the one who walked away first.”
I shake my head. “Bullshit. It was mutual. We both agreed it wasn’t working—”
“I agreed because I loved you. That doesn’t make it mutual,” he snaps, his words coming out sharper than I expected. “I would’ve done anything to make it work. I thought if I just tried harder, if I could just be better, I could fix it. And then you decided to give up.”
I scoff. “You think I just gave up?”
He doesn’t answer, which feels equivalent to twisting the knife.
“I was fucking drowning, Harry. I was getting rejected from every med program. My family took every chance to remind me what a fucking failure I was. I could barely get out of bed some days! And the worst part was seeing how much it was affecting you. Our relationship was barely surviving. I was barely surviving.” My voice catches in my throat. I didn’t even realize tears had welled up in my eyes until now. Embarrassed and angry, I try to blink them away. “Is that why you’re here? To accuse me of giving up on us?”
“No,” he says immediately.
“Then why’d you come back, Harry?”
He lets out a short, humourless laugh. “You know what? I don’t even know.” He stands abruptly, grabs his hoodie, and heads for the door.
“Oh, sure. Run away again. You’re so good at that.”
“Fuck off, Y/N.”
The door slams behind him.
***
You were the one who walked away first.
The words echo in my head, timed cruelly with the slap of my shoes against the pavement. It’s colder than usual. The morning air stings my cheekbones and the tip of my nose but does nothing to dull the ache in my chest.
You decided to give up.
I crank my music higher and push myself harder, lungs and thighs burning with effort, as if I can outrun the sound of his voice in my own head. I don’t stop until Niall’s building comes into view, my body forcing me to slow down. I bend forward, hands braced on my knees, and catch my breath before pulling out my phone to text Niall.
Me: Here!
Niall: Be there in a sec
Niall: Harry’s joining us btw hope that’s ok
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, resisting the urge to turn around and sprint back home.
Me: The more the merrier
They appear a minute later, crossing the parking lot together. Niall is talking animatedly, while Harry walks beside him with his head down, shoulders slightly hunched, not making eye contact with me. My eyes flick briefly to his legs and the absurdly short running shorts that leave little to the imagination.
“Morning, slackers,” I tease, forcing lightness into my tone.
Niall makes a face at me.
We start running, me setting the pace. Usually, these runs with Niall turn into gossip sessions within minutes, but today the air feels tense, heavier. To me, at least. Niall easily launches into a story about something ridiculous a coworker said. Frankly, I’m grateful for the distraction.
As we approach a fork in the trail, I gravitate towards the familiar path.
“Wait,” says Harry.
I slow and turn back.
“We should go the other way,” he says, nodding toward the narrower path. “The view’s nice. I went down there yesterday.”
I glance at Niall, then back at Harry. “That trail is pretty rough. We don’t usually go that way.”
“We don’t have to run it. We could walk, see the view, turn back. It’s not far,” he suggests. “Could be a nice break.”
I raise an eyebrow. “We’ve been running for ten minutes. You need a break already?”
He blinks, clearly not expecting the jab. “Fine. We can run it, then.”
“Fine. Let’s race, actually.”
“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good—” Niall starts.
“What’s the prize?” Harry cuts in.
“Loser buys the winner lunch.” The words come out more flirtatious than I intended. I catch the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Deal,” he says.
“Oi, don’t do anything stupid!” Niall shouts as we take off.
The trail is steep and uneven, tree roots twisting through the ground, creating perfect traps to trip over. I focus on my footing, my breath, and Harry’s footsteps up ahead. Soon enough, I overtake him, triumphant laughter bubbling up from inside me.
“Ah! Fuck!”
I hear a painful thud. Stopping in my tracks, I turn to find Harry on the ground, a pained expression on his face.
“Shit.” I drop down next to him, catching my breath. “Are you okay?”
He rolls onto his side, then sits up, gaze dropping to his knee.
“Oh, fuck.” His eyes widen.
“Let me see.” I lean over to assess the damage. His knee is split open, blood seeping through the torn skin. When I look back up at Harry, his face has gone pale.
Oh.
“Harry, lie down.”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes are still fixated on the blood oozing from his knee, his breathing shallow and uneven. I grip his shoulders and gently guide him onto his back.
“Hey, you’re okay. Just breathe. Look at me.”
His eyes finally meet mine. He nods, pulling in a shaky breath.
“What the hell happened?!” Niall calls as he jogs up.
“He fell,” I reply.
Niall sees the injury now. “Oof, that looks bad.”
“Give me your sweatshirt,” I tell him.
“My sweatshirt?”
“Please.” I hold out my hand.
He takes it off, revealing an undershirt, and tosses it to me.
“Can you make sure he doesn’t pass out? He’s scared of blood.”
“He is?” Niall immediately kneels by Harry’s head and starts talking to distract him from the bloody mess.
I’m not surprised Niall doesn’t know about Harry’s phobia. It’s something he was always insecure about. I suspected it early in our relationship when he would get squeamish every time I spoke in depth about medical topics. My suspicions were confirmed when I cut myself while chopping vegetables one day, and he nearly passed out at the sight of my blood dripping down the side of the counter.
I press Niall’s sweatshirt against Harry’s knee. He winces.
“Sorry,” I murmur, keeping steady pressure until the bleeding is under control. Then I wrap the sweatshirt around his knee as securely as I can and help him up with Niall’s help.
“I can walk,” Harry insists, hobbling forward on his own.
“Let us help you,” I say, sliding his arm over my shoulders. Niall takes the other side.
“I’m sorry I ruined your run,” Harry says quietly.
“Hush,” I say. “The race was my dumb idea.”
“I would say I told you so, but…” Niall trails off.
I shoot him a glare.
***
Back at Niall’s apartment, Harry sits on the edge of the bed while I clean the wound properly and wrap it with gauze.
“I really am sorry,” he says, again.
“If you apologize one more time, I’m taping the gauze over your mouth.”
He lets out a weak laugh. “I’m just embarrassed.”
“About falling?”
“And nearly passing out.”
“A lot of people are scared of blood,” I say gently. “You’re not special.”
“Good thing you’re the one in med school.”
I smirk. “Yeah.”
“I still owe you lunch.”
I shrug. “We didn’t even finish the race.”
“You were going to beat me anyway.”
I don’t argue.
After wrapping the wound, I say, “I can stick around for a bit. Just to make sure it doesn’t bleed through.”
“Are you sure? You’ve probably got a packed schedule.”
I check my phone. It’s 8 AM. “I have lab at noon. I just need to go home and shower and then I’ll be back.”
Niall drops me off at my place on his way to work. I grab my things, shower quickly, then drive back. Harry lets me in.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“I was about to make something.”
“I’ll do it.”
He hesitates. I head to the kitchen before he can protest. After assessing the ingredients in the fridge, I decide to throw together some breakfast burritos. He thanks me when I hand him a plate.
We sit on opposite ends of the couch while we eat.
“Niall’s birthday is coming up,” says Harry.
I nod. “Saturday.”
“I thought I’d cook and host a birthday dinner.”
“Good idea. Niall loves your food.” So do I. “Need help?”
“It’d be nice to have a sous chef.”
I smile. “Sure.”
After breakfast, I work on my laptop while Harry works on his. When my legs get stiff, I extend them in front of me. Harry mirrors me a moment later. My foot brushes his leg. I leave it there. He glances at me. Neither of us says anything.
I start packing up as it gets close to noon. I redress his wound before leaving.
“Thanks, Dr. Y/L/N. I appreciate the help.”
We grin at each other. There’s a moment where I realize I don’t want to leave. A familiar pull threatens to keep me there with him. But I say goodbye, head out, and spend the rest of the day wondering if he felt it, too.
***
Harry loves feeding people. Back in college, he would host cookouts for all our friends. It was a sweet gesture. Everyone appreciated getting a break from ramen noodles every now and then.
I would help out, chopping vegetables, following instructions like a good sous chef. I could see it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction to cook for other people. And I can see now, as he preps food for Niall’s birthday dinner, that none of that has changed.
Leah and Mateo took the birthday boy out on the town and said they’d be back in time for dinner, so Harry and I have the kitchen all to ourselves until then. We slip into our old rhythm. I peel an onion and pass him the garlic before he even reaches for it. I chop the vegetables; he manages the stove. Soon, we’re effortlessly weaving around each other in the tiny kitchen.
I secretly reminisce about all the times we cooked together. A specific Friendsgiving dinner comes to mind. We were hosting at our apartment and barely finished cooking on time because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I remember trying to mash the potatoes while he kept coming up behind me to plant kisses down my neck. We nearly burnt the stuffing because we were too busy making out against the fridge. My lips twitch at the memory, at how badly we wanted each other back then.
A hand on my elbow pulls me back to the present. “Sorry, need a pan,” Harry says, nodding at the cupboard I’m blocking.
I move aside for him, the sensation of his touch still lingering on my skin. I catch his side profile as he stands back up with the pan, using his other hand to push back the curls that have fallen into his eyes.
“Do you still make your banana bread?” I ask. It had quickly become my comfort food when he would make it every time I’d had a bad day or a stressful week.
“Been a while.” He pauses, looks at me. “I can make it for you.”
For you.
I shake my head. “You don’t have to. I was just curious.”
He reaches for the fruit bowl, grabbing a couple of overripe bananas.
“Harry.”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” He starts gathering flour for the bread before I can protest any further.
I watch as he combines several ingredients in a bowl without measuring anything and shake my head in awe.
“I still can’t believe you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Throw things in without measuring.”
He shrugs. “It’s never failed me.”
“I know. It’s infuriating.”
“Hey, you’re good at everything. You’ve got to let me have this one thing.”
I scoff. “I am not good at everything.”
I wasn’t good at keeping you in my life.
“You are. Annoyingly so.” He smirks.
I feel heat creep up my neck. I grab a knife and start chopping tomatoes, needing something to do with my hands.
Later, we’re both standing at the stove, stirring different pots of food, when his phone rings on the counter.
“Can you grab that?” he asks.
I hand over his phone, catching a glimpse of the caller ID.
“Hi, Mum.” He tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder and keeps working.
I’m standing close enough to make out his mom’s responses, though I zone out as they exchange mundane life updates. My ears perk back up when I hear my name.
“How’s Y/N?” his mom asks.
“Good.”
“Have you been spending time together?”
“Mhm.” His curt replies aren’t enough to stop his mom from prying.
“Do you think it’s in the cards?”
“Do I think what’s in the cards?”
“Oh, you know. You and Y/N?”
I try not to outwardly react to any of this so he doesn’t think I’m eavesdropping, but my heart races at his mom’s questions.
He sighs. “I don’t know, Mum.”
“Do you still think the two of you were incompatible?”
“Something like that, yeah.” He turns away briefly, reaching for something on the counter.
I don’t catch his mom’s response.
“Well, that’s part of it,” he says, stirring the pot too aggressively. “Look, Mum, it’s complicated. I don’t really want to get into it.”
“I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to upset you,” his mom says.
“I’m not upset. Just in the middle of something. It’s Niall’s birthday.”
“Oh! Tell him I said happy birthday.”
“I will. Alright now, love you. Call you later.”
“Love you, darling. Bye.”
Harry puts his phone away. Neither of us speaks after that, the light atmosphere from earlier being replaced by an awkward silence. It seems to go on forever until our friends arrive about twenty minutes later. We had invited a few more of Niall’s friends, so with Leah and Mateo, there are seven of us altogether.
Dinner is ready, and everyone digs in. We decide to eat in the living room since Niall’s dining area only seats four people. Harry and I sit on opposite sides of the room from each other. I’m not sure if it was a deliberate choice on either of our parts or if it just happened that way. Our gazes meet every now and then. He’s always the first to look away.
In another world, I’d be sitting next to him, or on the floor at his feet, or in his lap. His hands would find me without thinking, caressing my hip or my shoulder or the back of my neck. I’d steal bites off his plate; he’d pretend not to notice. We’d share amused glances and wine glasses and we’d be happy.
I feel that same magnetic pull towards him the entire night. I don’t give into it. Until he gets up and leaves the room and doesn’t come back for a while. I get curious about what he’s up to and can longer pay attention to whatever conversation is happening in the room.
I get up and collect some dirty dishes, pretending I’m just going to the kitchen to put them away. Instead of rejoining the group, I head over to Harry’s bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, revealing him lying on the bed with an arm over his face. I quietly enter the room, unsure if he’s asleep. Then he moves his arm away from his face to see who just walked in.
I join him on the bed, lying down next to him. We both stare at the ceiling in silence. I’m the first to break it.
“You told your mom we’re incompatible?” I ask, recalling the conversation I overheard on the phone.
“It was easier.”
“Than what?”
“Than explaining that I couldn’t make you want me anymore.” He says it so plainly, without emotion, yet there’s something deeply melancholic in his voice.
“Harry.”
“What? There’s no need to sugarcoat it. I can face the truth.”
“But that’s not the truth.”
“Is it not? You weren’t into me anymore. It’s okay to say that.” It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than me.
I turn on my side to face him. He continues staring at the ceiling.
“I was depressed, Harry. I couldn’t even enjoy a good meal, let alone sex. It had nothing to do with you. You kept thinking it did, but it didn’t.”
“It was hard to think anything else when I couldn’t make you feel good no matter what I did. I didn’t even know how to touch you anymore.”
“I know,” I reply quietly. “That’s why I ended it. I could see how hard you were trying and how much it was hurting you.”
“It was all I could think about. What could I do more? Why am I not enough? Why?” He whispers the last word, yet it rings louder than the rest, like the unknown was what killed him the most.
“I was drowning, and it took me way too long to realize I was pulling you under with me. I’m sorry.” I let the apology hang in the air for a while before adding for good measure, “You were never the problem. I was.”
He finally looks at me, brows slightly furrowed. “You weren’t.”
“I was,” I insist, my voice hardly above a whisper.
He studies my face for a long moment. His gaze shifts to my lips. He hesitates, then kisses me. I’m taken by surprise, not only by the kiss but the intensity of it, like he had been restraining himself for too long. I kiss him back. Our tongues just barely graze each other when he pulls away.
“Fuck,” he says, running a hand over his face. He sits up and swings his legs off the bed, his back to me.
“Harry—” I push up on one elbow.
“I can’t. I can’t do this again.” He leaves the room before I can say another word.
***
Me: Can we talk?
I text Harry in class the next day. I haven’t been able to focus on anything all day. My mind keeps replaying the kiss and his reaction afterwards. We avoided each other for the rest of the night, and I went home when I couldn’t bear it anymore. I hate that it’s been this way since the day he came back. The awkwardness, the passive aggressive jabs, the resentment mixed in with longing and nostalgia. It’s all too much.
Me: Please?
I text him again hours later, knowing that he probably saw the first message and contemplated ignoring it. He replies minutes after my desperate double text.
Harry: Okay
Me: Meet me at the trail at 6:30?
I watch him type for what feels like ages, the sound of my professor’s voice fading into nothing but a distant hum.
Harry: As long as we get to see the view
I smile, relieved at the light-hearted response.
The sun is close to the horizon when I make my way up the trail to meet Harry. He’s already there, lounging on a bench and watching the sunset.
“So, this is the view you were willing to sacrifice your dignity for?” I ask as I approach him, referencing the day he fell on the trail.
He clutches his chest and winces. “Ouch.”
I laugh and take a seat next to him.
“You were adamant about beating me that day,” he says.
My smile fades a bit, as I recall the fire burning in me that day. “I was angry.”
“I know.”
We watch the sunset quietly for a while.
I’m still thinking about how to say what I want to say when Harry speaks, “I’m sorry about what I said that night. About you giving up on us. That wasn’t fair.”
“I get why you thought I’d given up.”
He looks at me.
“If I was in your place, I probably would’ve believed it, too. And yeah, maybe I could’ve tried harder—”
He shakes his head before I can continue. “You weren’t well, Y/N. Saying you should’ve tried harder is like telling someone with a broken leg to just get up and walk.”
I don’t know why—maybe it’s the breathtaking sunset or the compassion in his words or three years of internalized guilt coming out at once—but my eyes well with tears. He notices before I can blink them away and reaches over to squeeze my hand.
“And I’m sorry I disappeared. I thought if I stayed away long enough, it’d hurt less.” He pauses. “Spoiler alert: it didn’t.”
I laugh while wiping away a tear. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I tell him, “I hate that you felt like you weren’t good enough.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Another wave of tears hits me. This time, I let them fall. He pulls me into a hug, and I hold onto him for dear life, my tears staining his hoodie.
I’ve spent three years telling myself that it wasn’t my fault, that I was drowning, that I would’ve shown anyone else the same compassion I couldn’t show myself. None of it ever stuck. I needed to hear it from him.
***
Harry spends most of the next week at my apartment. When he isn’t there, I’m at Niall’s. Somewhere between my neuroanatomy flashcards and his work meetings, we’ve slipped into something that resembles a life together. I study while he replies to work emails from the other end of the couch. We cook, run errands, go on runs, and stay up late talking over cheap wine whenever I don’t have an early class the next day. It’s dangerously easy to pretend we never broke up.
I almost grab his hand on a casual stroll in the park.
He slips up and calls me “baby” when asking me to pass the salt.
I fall asleep on the couch while studying one evening, and he carries me to bed.
I’m not surprised when I overhear Niall asking him about us while they’re playing a video game.
“If someone told me three years ago that you and Y/N would be back together, I would’ve told them to fuck right off.”
“Who said we’re back together?”
Niall just laughs.
“We’ve just been spending more time together.”
“Sure.” Niall pauses. “What’s the plan then? Don’t you fly home in, like, a week?”
“Yeah…”
“You don’t have a plan, do you?”
Harry doesn’t respond.
“You need to talk about it with her, you know. You can’t just disappear again. I don’t think she’d recover this time.”
“I know, Niall. I’m not just going to leave.”
“Okay. Good. You idiot.”
I hear a thump that sounds like Niall whacking Harry’s arm.
“Ow!”
***
That Friday, Harry and I get home from a morning run. I grab a cold water bottle from the fridge and toss it to him. I’m checking to see if I have enough berries to make two smoothies when I hear a soft sigh of frustration. I shut the fridge and turn around to find Harry glaring down at his phone. I try to ignore the voice in my head that comments on how hot he looks standing there in those little shorts, flushed and sweaty from our run, brows furrowed in thought.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Just a delightful message from my boss. I’ve spent the past month working on this project, and now he wants to toss out the whole thing.” He sets his phone on the counter and gulps down some water.
“What? Why?”
He shrugs. “He does this shit all the time. Everyone at work thinks he hates me.”
“What could you have done to make him hate you?”
He averts his gaze, coughing into his fist as he leans against the counter. “Dated his daughter?”
My jaw drops. “Harry.”
“I know, I know. It was stupid.”
“You messy, messy boy.”
“I was… going through a phase.”
I quirk a brow. “A phase. So, it wasn’t just the boss’s daughter then?”
A teasing smirk emerges on his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would, actually.” I cross my arms and lean against the fridge. “Tell me more about this phase.”
He thinks for a moment. “Not much to tell. I dated around a bit. It never went anywhere.” A wry smile tugs at his lips. “Or maybe I never stuck around long enough for it to.”
Before I can pry further, he says, “Your turn.”
“What?”
“I’m sure you’ve got some stories from the past few years. Maybe not as bad as dating the boss’s daughter. But others?”
“I have nothing to share. My love life has been a perfectly boring wasteland.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Why not? ‘Med student too busy to date’ is a tale as old as time.”
He stares at me with a soft grin.
I blink. “What?”
“You’re cute when you lie.”
I shove him in the chest. He grabs my wrist. It’s all too familiar. I’d shove him playfully all the time when he would annoy me. He’d grab my wrist, yank me closer. We’d kiss. Now he lets go as soon as he realizes what he’s doing, but I don’t step back. I move closer, fist my fingers in his shirt, and pull him into a kiss.
Old habits die hard.
At first, he doesn’t kiss back.
“Y/N…” His forehead rests against mine, his breath warm on my lips.
I kiss him again. This time, he gives in. Satisfaction and longing course through me. I deepen the kiss. His large hands grip my waist and push me back against the fridge. I slide one hand up the front of his shirt while we continue making out, his abdominal muscles flexing against my palm with each hurried breath. His fingers linger at the waistband of my shorts. They stop there. When they don’t move, I cover his hand with mine and guide it lower.
He freezes, then gently removes both of my hands from him and takes a step back. It feels like a chasm just opened up between us. I stare at him, puzzled and suddenly a bit self-conscious.
“I want this,” he reassures me. “I want you. I just— I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“Fuck it up how?”
“I don’t know.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
The apprehension in his voice and his face makes my chest ache. He’s afraid of disappointing me. He’s already expecting that he’ll disappoint me. Did loving me teach him to fear intimacy? Is that why he never “stuck around long enough” with these other people he dated?
“Harry, I’m in a much different headspace than I was back then,” I state with years of therapy to back up my claim.
“I know. But what if I’m not?”
I may have overcome my depression, but that doesn’t mean he overcame the wounds of the inadequacy he felt back then.
“Then we’ll take it slow,” I tell him. “We don’t have to do anything right now. Maybe tonight we can just… share a bed?”
He laughs a little. “Just sleep?”
“Just sleep.”
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
There’s still uncertainty in his eyes, but there’s hope, too. I gently take his hand, lacing my fingers through his.
***
I wake up to sunlight pouring through the blinds I forgot to close and a weight on my chest. I glance down to find Harry’s head resting directly on my breasts. He’s snoring softly. With half his bodyweight on me, I’m effectively pinned to the bed. I try to contain my amusement, not wanting to wake him.
We’ve been sleeping together for the past few nights. Just sleeping. Though I swear I felt him grinding against me in his sleep the other night. I didn’t comment on it the next day. When I told him we would take it slow, I meant it.
He stirs eventually, mumbling something incoherent. Then he lifts his head from my chest and squints up towards my face.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I laugh.
“What?”
“Are my tits really that comfortable?”
“Yes. They are,” he replies completely seriously. He rolls over onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. “What’s on the schedule today, boss?”
“Class, lab, more class… And then happy hour tonight with people in my program.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“We try to have some of that when we can. Do you want to come?”
He considers it. “Sure. Why not?”
As I expected, Harry has no trouble mingling with my classmates. They seem to like him. I’ve been introducing him to everyone as an old friend from college. They don’t need to know our complicated history nor do I feel like explaining it to them, quite frankly. Harry doesn’t seem to care.
We’ve been chatting with my classmate Bella for the last ten minutes. I’ve been checked out of program drama recently because my own life has been dramatic enough. Luckily, I can always count on Bella to catch me up on the lore.
“Is Nate back from his sister’s wedding?” I ask.
“Yeah. His girlfriend’s here, too.”
I lift my brows. “Oh.”
“What?” says Harry, catching my reaction.
Bella and I exchange glances.
“Let’s just say Nate’s girlfriend isn’t Y/N’s biggest fan.”
“We hooked up once,” I say flatly. “Before they were even together. She needs to get over it.”
“Once?” Bella snorts. “More like three times.” She looks at Harry with that devilish grin she gets when she’s about to drop some juicy gossip. “Y/N hooked up with half the guys in our class in first year.”
“Bella!” I widen my eyes at her, heat rising up my neck.
“What? He hasn’t heard about your hoe era?” She cackles and tosses back her tequila.
My face burns. “I’m getting another drink.”
I turn on my heel and walk away in spite of my reluctance to leave her alone with him. God knows what else she’s going to expose about me. Maybe it’s my own fault for introducing him as a friend. If she knew we were much more than that, it might have stopped her from spilling my whole sexual history to him. Or not.
I attempt to drown my mortification with a couple shots and some pretzel bites. Harry and I don’t reconvene until later that night. I’m just tipsy enough to be able to face him but not nearly enough to forget our previous interaction. My cheeks start tingling with heat again as he approaches me, black shirt tucked loosely into his jeans, an easy grin on his face. He reaches towards the corner of my mouth and wipes off a bit of cheese sauce before licking it off his thumb.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out.
“For what?”
“Bella. I forgot what a blabbermouth she is. That was so embarrassing.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I know how that sounded.”
“You were single, Y/N.”
“I was a mess.”
“Hey, if I’m allowed to have a messy phase, so are you.”
Fair.
We decide to head home, as most people are doing the same. Harry drives us back to my apartment. I’ve sobered up by then. We crawl into bed. I rest my head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around my body, pulling me into his side. We stay like that for a while.
“I met Nate,” he suddenly says.
“Oh?” I look at him.
“Quite the charmer. Nicer than I’d expected.”
“What did you expect?”
He shrugs. “An arrogant arsehole. A movie villain of sorts.”
I chuckle. “Were you disappointed?”
“Maybe a little.”
“You know it never meant anything with him.”
“I know…” Then he smiles faintly. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be jealous.”
He slowly traces a finger along my jaw, then my bottom lip. My heart slams against my ribs. I part my lips slightly. His finger pauses between them. I wrap my lips around it and suck lightly. He rests a second finger there, and I do the same thing with it. He exhales deeply, gaze focused on my mouth.
Removing his fingers, he replaces them with his lips. I let him take the lead this time, not wanting to push him anywhere he’s not ready to go. He pulls my body on top of his own. His erection presses against me, and I can’t help but grind my hips into him, feeling his cock pulse between us. He groans into my mouth and slides his hands into my shorts, gripping my backside through my panties and holding me flush against him. I can feel the frantic thumping of his heart against my chest so clearly, it almost feels like my own.
“Fuck.” He rests his forehead against mine. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to stop. But instead, he just flips us over and kisses me all over again. I can tell that he’s trying to be in the moment and not in his head.
He takes off my shirt, kissing down my neck and my chest. One hand palms my breast while his lips wrap around my other nipple. I run my hands through his hair while he does that. He slides a hand down my stomach and into my shorts, touching me through my panties. I rock my hips into his hand. He pushes the fabric aside and runs a finger through my wetness. I shiver under his touch. He slips two fingers inside me effortlessly.
“That feel okay?” he checks.
“Phenomenal,” I sigh out.
He laughs softly, his warm breath tickling my skin.
He pumps his fingers in and out of me, his palm massaging my clit at the same time. He watches me moan and squirm under him. When he inserts another finger, my mouth drops wide open. He grabs my jaw with his other hand and covers my mouth with his again.
“Harry, I want you,” I breathe against his mouth. “So bad.”
His lips curve against mine. “Yeah? Where do you want me, pretty girl?”
There he is.
“Inside me.”
“I am inside you, baby.” He curves his fingers up to prove his point.
A whine leaves my mouth. “Your cock.”
“Want my cock inside you?”
I nod, biting down on my bottom lip. My face is on fire just like the rest of my body.
“Inside where? Your mouth?”
“No. Yes. I mean—” He pumps his fingers faster. “A—anywhere,” I finally answer.
He grins, and I feel giddy like I answered correctly.
He makes me come, and I dig my nails into the back of his neck as the orgasm cascades through me. He starts taking off his clothes then, while I remove the rest of mine. All I can think about is his cock and where I’ll be taking it first. My question is answered when he turns me over onto my stomach. His hardness rests against my ass. Tenderly, he moves my hair to the side and kisses the back of my neck.
“God, I missed you so much,” he says into my ear, the words coming out strained and heavy. “Thought about you every day. Wondered if you were with someone else. If you were happy. If you missed me.”
“I missed you all the time,” I say, my throat constricting with emotion.
He kisses the base of my neck and eases his cock into me. I gasp. He mutters some curses under his breath. I have one hand resting up by my face, and he places his own hand over it, interlacing our fingers tightly before moving inside me.
“Missed your cock,” I admit boldly.
He pauses mid-thrust. “What’s that?”
I know he heard me. “I said I missed your cock.”
He chuckles and grinds his hips into me, making me moan. “So filthy. Going to make me come just from saying things like that.”
He starts moving again, his thrusts getting deeper and faster, and I know he’s close. Our intertwined hands on the bed are the only thing in my field of vision. I close my eyes, knowing that this memory will forever be etched in my brain—us making love for the first time after three years of painful yearning.
“You fuck me so good,” I say, knowing it’ll push him even closer to the edge.
“Oh yeah?” He pants, fucking me harder and faster.
“Mhm. The best. The best I’ve ever had.”
I start to lose coherence of my thoughts now, my words turning into a jumble of moans and pleas and whimpers. He slides his free hand under my neck, wrapping his fingers around the front of it. I’m engulfed in bliss, approaching my second orgasm of the night.
“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Come around this cock. That’s it.”
It ripples through my body harder than the last one. I moan his name over and over while he comes too, my pussy milking it out of him with every pulsating spasm.
He collapses on top of me, burying his face in my hair, as his breathing gradually slows. I’m smiling, content to be sandwiched between him and the bed. He rolls off of me and disappears into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth.
After cleaning up, we’re back to cuddling on the bed, my head on his chest and his arm loosely wrapped around my middle. I trace the tattoos on his torso with my finger, trying not to think about the limited time we have left together.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving in a couple days,” I say quietly.
“I know. It went by so fast.” He strokes my hair.
“I’m glad you came back.”
“Me too.”
“Mind if I sneak into your luggage?”
“I would very much like that.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “But you’ve got important things to do here.”
“Nothing’s more important than you.”
I feel his chest rumble with laughter at my corny line and the saccharine way I delivered it. I giggle.
But then my mind drifts to what happens after he leaves. Surely, after everything, we won’t just go back to our separate lives, miles away, not speaking to each other. Right?
“I’ve been looking for jobs,” he says.
“What?”
“Like, jobs here in town. So I can quit the other one.”
I quickly lift my head to meet his eyes. “Wait, you’re moving back here?”
“Do you want me to?” He studies my reaction.
“Of course I do.” I search for any sign of amusement in his face. “Wait, are you serious?”
“So serious.”
“But what about your mom? And your sister?”
He shrugs. “They’ll understand.”
“But you’re okay with being so far from them?”
“Yeah. I want to be close to you.”
“So do I, but I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through. I don’t want you to feel like you have to move for me. We could do long distance if we have to and—”
“Y/N.” He cups my cheek, green eyes searching mine. “I’ve thought about it plenty, trust me. I want to do this. I want to be here with you.”
I don’t know what to say. I just stare at him. This man who left, who came back, who’s been planning a whole future around me.
“These past few weeks,” he continues, “are the happiest I’ve been in ages.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then, before I can stop it, the words spill out. “I love you.”
His face breaks into a grin. “I love you, too.”
***
I park my car by the curb. Harry walks around to the trunk to get his bags. I meet him behind the car. We stare at each other for a long moment, neither of us ready to say goodbye.
“I’ll call you as soon as I reach London,” he says instead.
“Do you have to go?” I realize I sound like a whiny child, but I can’t help myself. I feel like I only just got him back. Him leaving now, even though I know it’s not forever, presses against some old wound deep in my soul.
“Baby.” He takes my hands. “We talked about this. It’s only for a short while. Just until I secure a job here and tie up some loose ends there. And then I’m on the first flight back. I promise.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.
“Do you need my help? I can go to these places in person, tell them how amazing and hardworking and dedicated you are and how I’d hire you immediately if I were them.”
A small, amused smile spreads across his face. “Somehow I don’t think they’ll accept my girlfriend as a reference. But thank you, baby.”
My heart flips at the word ‘girlfriend’. We haven’t explicitly discussed labels, so it pleasantly surprises me.
He pulls me into a tight hug. “It’s not goodbye.”
“It’s not goodbye,” I repeat.
We exchange four I love you’s and twice as many kisses before finally parting. He waves at me one last time before disappearing through the doors. I stand there for a long moment, watching the space where he was.
He said we could be friends. That was a promise he couldn’t keep.
Ugh, I usually don't like angst without a happy ending, and I am SO GLAD THIS DID.
I enjoyed the pace of the story of them both, like how it started off with backstory on their breakup, but not going fully into what actually happened until a bit later.
The condos between all characters flowed beautifully and It really pulls you in, as if you are truly a part of the scenes (if that makes sense)
I loved the tension between the two, I know it was a mixture of a lot of motions mixed into one domineering emotion that being they both still love each other, but because of what happened it's not just an easy feat.
I love that we got to see a bit into Harry's mind, because we saw mostly the inside the mind of the reader, so we already knew what they were feeling/thinking before she ever worded it outwardly.
And i always enjoy when Niall is a part of a Harry fic, I love narry and will always love a writer that includes that Irish man, which was a nice surprise!
There were also moments of "comedy" which i really enjoy, it's not that often that a writer succeeds in making a reader laugh with creating some form of humor during the fic and yours was very natural, the banter didn't feel artificial at all and I totally chuckled at like two funny scenes.
I am also like Harry. I can't do blood. Even while reading that part, i got squeamish, so congrats on making me relate to Harry, but I powered from!
FAVORITE SCENES
After a year of imagining these emotional reunions that never came, it became clear that I probably wouldn’t see him again. Then I heard he’d moved back to London, and I finally accepted that he was likely gone for good. By that point, my guilt had been displaced by a low-level resentment. He had essentially ghosted me, and I had to find out from someone else that he’d left the country. His decision to cut me off so coldly and abruptly, like severing a necrotized limb, made sense and didn’t at the same time. I understood, yet I was bitter. But I was moving on, too. – This whole thing was beautifully written very, very lovely. She has every right to feel this way after he breaks his promise with her.
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“Ow!” – Lol, this made me chuckle, I can literally hear Harry yelp out and ow as soon as Niall whacks him.
I mean, this whole scene was incredible, I had to just take a screenshot of it.
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I hear a thump that sounds like Niall whacking Harry’s arm.
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[...] He reaches towards the corner of my mouth and wipes off a bit of cheese sauce before licking it off his thumb. – I don't know what I always find it kind of hot when people do that towards you, but only if it's like someone you're attracted to or in a relationship with. Otherwise, no, thank you. Why do I find this hot?
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He takes off my shirt, kissing down my neck and my chest. One hand palms my breast while his lips wrap around my other nipple. I run my hands through his hair while he does that. He slides a hand down my stomach and into my shorts, touching me through my panties. I rock my hips into his hand. He pushes the fabric aside and runs a finger through my wetness. I shiver under his touch. He slips two fingers inside me effortlessly. – I mean, need i day more ?
In conclusion, as someone who suffers from depression. Found this somewhat relatable, and you made me feel for the reader. I also think that you illustrated a good perspective on the other pov. Like yes, the reader had her problems, and yes, Harry tried everything within his power to help their relationship from crashing down, but at the end of the day. Like you said, love isn't always enough.
I truly find it interesting when people say it's "mutual," but it's never truly mutual because someone always initiates the breakup and I love how you gave us insight about how it was the reader and we got to saw how Harry felt about the whole ordeal. I think it was a way to bring attention to the fact that yes depression may affect you mentally, but it also affects others based on the changes you go through individually and she did make the right call in ending it before things got worse emotionally. I think it would've damaged Harry more than it had already done. Hence, the need to take things slow.
Another thing i enjoyed was how he was the one that needed to take it slow from how she made him feel unintentionally, and I love how she respected that.
Finally, the way you started talking about Harry breaking a promise and then ending it with a new promise that they knew he wouldn't break. Making it a full circle on promises was beautiful. 💕
Oh wow this made my day! 😭 Thank you so much for reading and for taking the time to write such a thorough review. I'm genuinely touched.
Writing dialogue is my favourite thing (especially with angst) so I'm glad you enjoyed those convos. And I always try to add some humour to my fics, who doesn't love comic relief? Niall's character is super helpful with that haha.
This fic and these characters are quite close to my heart, so it was really nice to read your thoughts on it all, down to the specific scenes that stood out to you. THANK YOU ❤️
just a late night 18+ dennis thought.. the first time he gets head from you. he’s all whiney and doesn’t know what to do with his hands, needs a little encouragement that he can take control >.< poor bby
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oh god yes…sorry i should be working on event fics but i saw this and had to answer it. [x fem!reader]
dennis is a blushing stuttering mess the first time your mouth is on him, holy fuck does it feel heavenly. he doesn’t know what to do with himself, whines and small whimpers fall from his lips as he tries his hardest not to buck his hips when you take him in your warm mouth.
he has to run down all the gore-y things he saw today in the ED just so he doesn’t cum the second your tongue traces along a vein on the underside of his shaft.
the woman who dropped a knife in her foot, guy who cut off half his finger making a huge family dinner, the motorcycle crash that came-
“holy shit- angel” he pants out, cutting off his own train of thought when your nails scratch down his thighs as you take the entirety of his cock down your throat. his hands are gripping the edge of the couch cushions so hard he’s surprised he hasn’t ripped the fabric yet.
his body is so incredibly still, not knowing what he’s allowed to do and you can tell, you pull away from his cock and the pathetic sound that leaves his lips makes your head spin.
“what-” he starts to gripe, “baby you know you can touch me when i’m sucking you off, right?” you state leisurely like it’s not those aren’t dirtiest words dennis has ever heard out of your pretty mouth.
“i kn- i know it just feels really good i don't know what to do” he explains, his face the most eternal shade of red.
you grab at his hand and place it on top of your head, “do what feels natural den, whatever feels right baby” you coo before slipping him back in your mouth but not all the way.
a long breath leaves his body, his eyes glued to the way you suck him in your mouth, cheeks hallowing but you remain now only at his tip not going further.
he liked how he feel completely buried inside, the way your throat tighten around his cock. using the hand on your head he pushes down softly, your body willing going taking more of his shaft inside your mouth inch by inch til your nose is buried in the coarse patch of hair at his base. “fuck, you take me s’ well baby” he slurs out, getting a little drunk on the image infront of him.
you can’t help the way your fingers slide under the waist band of your panties and run through your slick folds, dennis finally taking control only getting you more hot and bothered than before.
anyway i need to write event fics now lol. sorry for any mistakes also
Summary: When Y/N and Harry broke up, he promised to stay friends. Then he vanished. Three years later, he’s back, turning her life upside down again. Between old grudges, impulsive kisses, and lingering touches, Y/N wonders if she ever really moved on.
Word count: 10k
Warnings: mention of mental health issues (depression), angst, smut
A/N: Okay! This is an emotional one, full of nostalgia and longing and lots of angst. I started it two years ago (omg) and came back to it recently. Y/N is a med student here, in the first couple years of school (excuse any inconsistencies pls)
MASTERLIST
***
He said we could be friends. I think about that promise often.
The breakup was as amicable as it could be. We talked in circles until there was nothing left to say, until the truth was staring us in the face: something wasn’t working. It’s never easy walking away from someone you still love, especially after convincing yourself for so long that love could carry you through anything, that love would be enough. It feels naive now, but back then, it looked like hope.
That was three years ago. He said we could be friends. And I never saw him again. Until today.
“Y/N?”
I wish I could say that I didn’t recognize his voice, that I’d forgotten what he sounds like. But I recognized it instantly. Like an old song you haven’t heard in years but still remember every word to.
I turn around to find him standing next to the avocados, wearing a white button-up with the top two buttons undone, his swallow tattoos peeking out. Black pants and scuffed Vans. His hair is longer than I remember but not by much. Nothing like the first year of our relationship, when it fell past his shoulders. I still remember the day he chopped it all off.
“Harry,” I say calmly, even though my heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“Hey, it’s… nice to see you again.” He steps forward tentatively, shoving his hands into his pockets. “How’ve you been?”
“Good.” I realize how tightly I’m clutching the bag of tomatoes in my hands, and I consciously loosen my grip. “How about you?”
“I’ve been alright.”
“I heard you moved back to London,” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.
He looks down. “Yeah. But I’m here for a few weeks, visiting a friend.” He pauses, clears his throat, and looks back up at me. “So, what’ve you been up to—”
“Excuse me.” A woman tries to pass by Harry with her shopping cart, glaring at him for blocking the aisle.
“Oh, sorry.” He quickly steps aside and refocuses his attention on me. “Maybe we could grab a coffee at the spot next door—”
“I actually have to go. But it was good seeing you again.” I force a smile.
“Oh. Yeah. Good seeing you, too.”
Before he can say anything else, I make a beeline for the exit. It’s only when I’m two feet from the door that I realize I still have the tomatoes I haven’t paid for. I drop them in the nearest shopping cart, feeling only slightly guilty about it, and bolt.
***
For months after the breakup, I wondered what I’d do if I ran into him. I imagined myself falling apart in his arms, confessing how much I missed him and that I love him and that I’m sorry. I knew the breakup wasn’t anyone’s fault, but I still felt guilty for the hurt I’d caused him.
After a year of imagining these emotional reunions that never came, it became clear that I probably wouldn’t see him again. Then I heard he’d moved back to London, and I finally accepted that he was likely gone for good. By that point, my guilt had been displaced by a low-level resentment. He had essentially ghosted me, and I had to find out from someone else that he’d left the country. His decision to cut me off so coldly and abruptly, like severing a necrotized limb, made sense and didn’t at the same time. I understood, yet I was bitter. But I was moving on, too.
A couple months ago marked three years since the breakup. I only realized while lying in bed that night how little I had thought about him that day. He had become a distant memory. It was no wonder that seeing him at the store this morning was so disorienting. It had taken so long to get him out of my goddamn mind, to move on. And then he just materialized out of nowhere, reminding me that I can never fully let go.
I try to forget about the encounter by busying myself with chores when I get home, but it’s hard. My mind keeps drifting back to him, picturing his deep green eyes and wondering which friend he was visiting. We had a lot of mutual friends from college. Could it be one of them?
It’s not until I open my anatomy textbook to prepare for tomorrow’s lecture that I’m able to put the thoughts to rest. Later that evening, I check my friends’ group chat and see that they’re meeting up at Jacki’s tonight. Normally, I would embody the stereotype of the miserable med student by staying in, head buried in my textbooks, but I could use a drink or two tonight.
***
Jacki’s is a board game bar in the middle of town. It opened in my last year of undergrad and quickly became a staple for my friend group. After graduation, everyone got swept up in the whirlwind of new careers and grad school, so we stopped going for a while. We’ve only started going back recently.
It’s busier than usual for a Wednesday night. I head straight to the back. The front of the bar is usually packed with younger people more interested in getting hammered than playing games.
I hear Niall’s laughter before I see him.
“Hey, Y/N’s here!” Leah calls out when she spots me. Next to her is Mateo, her fiance. They started dating after graduation, which was a shock to us all, considering how much they’d despised each other in uni. I attended their engagement party earlier this year.
“Well, well, well. Look who finally emerged from her cave,” Niall teases.
“And I already regret it,” I reply with a sarcastic grin.
“You won’t be saying that once we get some shots in ya.”
I’m distracted by a familiar figure at the table. His back is to me, but as he turns around, his eyes settle on mine.
“Oh, yeah, um, Harry’s here,” says Niall.
“I can see that,” I reply sharply before taking a seat next to Niall. A full shot glass sits in front of him. Without asking, I grab it and knock it back in one go.
“Wh— Hey! Get your own!” Niall protests.
I set the glass down with finality.
“So! What’ve I missed?”
***
I’ve never understood why my friends are so obsessed with drunk Monopoly, especially with the vast selection of board games available at this bar. I have a hunch they’re actually just addicted to arguing. Like a proper dysfunctional family.
Niall is now accusing Leah of stealing money from the bank. Mateo, of course, has to defend his future wife’s honour. I catch Harry’s eye in the midst of the chaos, and he shoots me an amused grin. I’ve been trying my best to avoid eye contact with him without making it obvious, but now I smile back briefly before looking away. I pretend I don’t notice his gaze linger on me for an extra few seconds.
He leaves to go use the restroom a while later.
Leah leans over. “For what it’s worth, we would’ve told you he was coming if we knew you’d be here, but you hardly come out with us anymore.”
“It’s all good,” I say, trying to play it cool. “By the way, do you know where he’s staying?”
Leah and Mateo silently turn to Niall, who coughs awkwardly.
I raise my brows. “He’s staying with you?”
“I was going to tell you, I swear—”
“It’s fine, Niall.”
“Really?”
“No, but I’ll get over it.”
They return to the game as Harry makes his way back to the table. He shifts his chair closer to me this time before sitting down and offering me the plate of fries at the end of the table.
“May I interest you in some fries?” he asks.
I grab one. “Thanks.”
He sets the plate down and eyes me tentatively. “You hate that I’m here.”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t need to. I’ve never seen someone sprint out of a supermarket as fast as you did this morning. How far did you get before realizing you were shoplifting tomatoes?”
“I made it to the door before I dropped them in some old lady’s cart.”
He chuckles.
“But seriously,” I add, “I don’t mind that you’re here.”
“You don’t mind? Okay. That’s one step up from ‘I wish you’d fuck off.’”
“It’s not exactly a huge step.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” he says with a shrug.
I try to suppress a grin.
I prepare to head home about an hour later, much to my friends’ dismay. That’s one of the downsides of being in med school while your friends are all established in their careers already—they have a lot more time and energy to stay out late and get drunk than you.
I make it only a few steps out into the pleasant September air when I hear my name. Turning around, I find Harry exiting the bar.
“Can I walk with you?” he asks.
“Are you sure you want to miss drunk Monopoly?”
“I think I’ll survive.”
I laugh. He falls into step beside me as we head in the direction of my apartment. We walk for quite a while without uttering a single word, but the silence feels natural. Like when we’d lie on the couch together, my feet in his lap, each of us buried in our own books or phones, not needing to fill the quiet.
“So, Dr. Y/L/N, I’ve got a question for you,” he says when we’re halfway to my apartment. It’s started drizzling since we left the bar, tiny raindrops kissing the pavement.
“Not a doctor yet,” I reply, smiling. He used to call me “doctor” all the time, his tone always threaded with a mix of teasing and encouragement. I would sometimes correct him, like I did now, but it always left me feeling warm and reassured that he believed in my ability to achieve this endeavour more than I did.
“You’re basically there,” he brushes it off like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Fine. What’s your question?”
His hands slip into his pockets, lips twitching up into a playful grin. “You see, I’ve got this mole on my left butt cheek. I’ve had it since I was a wee child—”
“Shut up.” I whack his arm.
He laughs, the familiar sound instantly putting me at ease. “Congrats on getting into med school, by the way. How’s that been going?”
“It’s been…” I search for the right words to sum up the late nights and the impostor syndrome and the deep feeling of fulfillment that my work brings me. “Challenging but rewarding.”
“You were never one to back down from a challenge.”
I notice the way he says it, like it’s something he has always known about me, and there’s that warm feeling in my chest again. I hesitate before asking, “How was London?”
“London was…” He shrugs, his gaze dropping as he kicks a pebble in his path. “You know. London.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “Oh, don’t be so mysterious. What have you been up to these past few years?”
He looks upward, his eyes tracing the cloudy night sky. “Let’s see. I backpacked through Europe with a couple mates, took some freelance writing gigs while I was traveling, built up some experience. Got back to London and landed a job at a publishing company.”
I can sense there’s more he’s not saying, but I don’t press him.
“Do you like it? The job?” I ask.
“Yeah, for now. I’d like to publish my own work someday. That’s still a work in progress. But for now, I’m content with it.”
When we reach my building, I stop and turn to face him. “Well, this is me.”
“That was a short walk.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking away with an expression I can’t quite place. Like he’s searching for something to say, some way to prolong the moment. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he wants me to invite him inside.
“I suppose I’ll head back then,” he says, his voice trailing off.
“Or you could stay,” I blurt out. “I mean, until the rain stops.” The “rain” is barely a mist, more of a damp kiss on the skin, but it’s easier than admitting I want him to stay.
“Are you sure? If you need to study, I don’t want to intrude—”
“I’m sure.”
There’s a beat of silence where neither of us moves. Then he smiles, his shoulders relaxing.
“Alright then. Lead the way.”
***
When we enter my apartment, I can sense Harry taking in how different everything looks. I moved out of the apartment we shared shortly after he disappeared. I couldn’t stay, of course. There were too many little reminders of him—everything from the books he left behind on the bookshelf to the scent of his shampoo that seemed to linger in the bathroom no matter how many times I cleaned the damn thing.
I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water, the faucet hissing in the silence. Behind me, Harry pulls off his hoodie and drapes it over the arm of the couch to dry.
“You finally got rid of that sofa with the weird stains,” he says, eyeing the smaller one that replaced it.
“I had to part ways with it after the fabric started ripping every time I sat down.”
He chuckles.
I set down my empty glass next to the sink. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Just some water.” He enters the kitchen. I expect him to look in the cupboard for a clean glass, but to my surprise, he grabs mine off the counter and fills it under the tap before chugging it down. He finishes the glass with a satisfied sigh, a subtle smirk on his face as he catches my reaction.
Our proximity makes my pulse race. I take a small step back, my mind racing to find something to say.
“You got a new tattoo.” I point to his right bicep, my fingertip just barely grazing his skin.
He looks down at it. “Yeah. A few, actually.”
That launches a whole conversation about all the new tattoos he got and where he got them. It turns out most of them were from his backpacking trip after the breakup. Some people cope by getting blackout drunk. Others ink their skin. I coped by distracting myself with other men. It worked about as well as you’d expect.
I’m on the couch now with my feet tucked under me, while he sits on my faded floral rug. We broke out my stash of cheap wine, and I start to feel like I’m catching up with an old friend. I almost forget about our history until he says, “I was really happy when Niall told me you’re in med school. I know how hard you worked to get here. How’d it feel when you got in?”
“Surreal. It didn’t even sink in until my first day of class.” I remember the day I found out. I screamed in my room, then called everyone I knew. Everyone except the one person I wanted to tell most.
“I wish you’d called,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t think you’d want me to. I mean, you disappeared without even telling me.” I can’t hide the betrayal in my voice.
He rubs the back of his neck, not meeting my gaze. “You broke up with me, Y/N.”
I frown. “It was a mutual decision. And you said we could be friends. Why say that if you didn’t mean it?”
“I did mean it. At the time.”
“Then what changed?”
He shrugs, pulling at a loose thread on the rug. “I didn’t know how to be around you after. I thought I could do it, but I couldn’t.”
“So, instead of telling me that, you ran away. Just ghosted without a word. I had to find out from Niall.” I can feel myself getting heated and I don’t know how to stop.
His jaw tightens. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“You still ran.”
“No,” he states firmly. “I left. There’s a difference. And you were the one who walked away first.”
I shake my head. “Bullshit. It was mutual. We both agreed it wasn’t working—”
“I agreed because I loved you. That doesn’t make it mutual,” he snaps, his words coming out sharper than I expected. “I would’ve done anything to make it work. I thought if I just tried harder, if I could just be better, I could fix it. And then you decided to give up.”
I scoff. “You think I just gave up?”
He doesn’t answer, which feels equivalent to twisting the knife.
“I was fucking drowning, Harry. I was getting rejected from every med program. My family took every chance to remind me what a fucking failure I was. I could barely get out of bed some days! And the worst part was seeing how much it was affecting you. Our relationship was barely surviving. I was barely surviving.” My voice catches in my throat. I didn’t even realize tears had welled up in my eyes until now. Embarrassed and angry, I try to blink them away. “Is that why you’re here? To accuse me of giving up on us?”
“No,” he says immediately.
“Then why’d you come back, Harry?”
He lets out a short, humourless laugh. “You know what? I don’t even know.” He stands abruptly, grabs his hoodie, and heads for the door.
“Oh, sure. Run away again. You’re so good at that.”
“Fuck off, Y/N.”
The door slams behind him.
***
You were the one who walked away first.
The words echo in my head, timed cruelly with the slap of my shoes against the pavement. It’s colder than usual. The morning air stings my cheekbones and the tip of my nose but does nothing to dull the ache in my chest.
You decided to give up.
I crank my music higher and push myself harder, lungs and thighs burning with effort, as if I can outrun the sound of his voice in my own head. I don’t stop until Niall’s building comes into view, my body forcing me to slow down. I bend forward, hands braced on my knees, and catch my breath before pulling out my phone to text Niall.
Me: Here!
Niall: Be there in a sec
Niall: Harry’s joining us btw hope that’s ok
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, resisting the urge to turn around and sprint back home.
Me: The more the merrier
They appear a minute later, crossing the parking lot together. Niall is talking animatedly, while Harry walks beside him with his head down, shoulders slightly hunched, not making eye contact with me. My eyes flick briefly to his legs and the absurdly short running shorts that leave little to the imagination.
“Morning, slackers,” I tease, forcing lightness into my tone.
Niall makes a face at me.
We start running, me setting the pace. Usually, these runs with Niall turn into gossip sessions within minutes, but today the air feels tense, heavier. To me, at least. Niall easily launches into a story about something ridiculous a coworker said. Frankly, I’m grateful for the distraction.
As we approach a fork in the trail, I gravitate towards the familiar path.
“Wait,” says Harry.
I slow and turn back.
“We should go the other way,” he says, nodding toward the narrower path. “The view’s nice. I went down there yesterday.”
I glance at Niall, then back at Harry. “That trail is pretty rough. We don’t usually go that way.”
“We don’t have to run it. We could walk, see the view, turn back. It’s not far,” he suggests. “Could be a nice break.”
I raise an eyebrow. “We’ve been running for ten minutes. You need a break already?”
He blinks, clearly not expecting the jab. “Fine. We can run it, then.”
“Fine. Let’s race, actually.”
“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good—” Niall starts.
“What’s the prize?” Harry cuts in.
“Loser buys the winner lunch.” The words come out more flirtatious than I intended. I catch the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Deal,” he says.
“Oi, don’t do anything stupid!” Niall shouts as we take off.
The trail is steep and uneven, tree roots twisting through the ground, creating perfect traps to trip over. I focus on my footing, my breath, and Harry’s footsteps up ahead. Soon enough, I overtake him, triumphant laughter bubbling up from inside me.
“Ah! Fuck!”
I hear a painful thud. Stopping in my tracks, I turn to find Harry on the ground, a pained expression on his face.
“Shit.” I drop down next to him, catching my breath. “Are you okay?”
He rolls onto his side, then sits up, gaze dropping to his knee.
“Oh, fuck.” His eyes widen.
“Let me see.” I lean over to assess the damage. His knee is split open, blood seeping through the torn skin. When I look back up at Harry, his face has gone pale.
Oh.
“Harry, lie down.”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes are still fixated on the blood oozing from his knee, his breathing shallow and uneven. I grip his shoulders and gently guide him onto his back.
“Hey, you’re okay. Just breathe. Look at me.”
His eyes finally meet mine. He nods, pulling in a shaky breath.
“What the hell happened?!” Niall calls as he jogs up.
“He fell,” I reply.
Niall sees the injury now. “Oof, that looks bad.”
“Give me your sweatshirt,” I tell him.
“My sweatshirt?”
“Please.” I hold out my hand.
He takes it off, revealing an undershirt, and tosses it to me.
“Can you make sure he doesn’t pass out? He’s scared of blood.”
“He is?” Niall immediately kneels by Harry’s head and starts talking to distract him from the bloody mess.
I’m not surprised Niall doesn’t know about Harry’s phobia. It’s something he was always insecure about. I suspected it early in our relationship when he would get squeamish every time I spoke in depth about medical topics. My suspicions were confirmed when I cut myself while chopping vegetables one day, and he nearly passed out at the sight of my blood dripping down the side of the counter.
I press Niall’s sweatshirt against Harry’s knee. He winces.
“Sorry,” I murmur, keeping steady pressure until the bleeding is under control. Then I wrap the sweatshirt around his knee as securely as I can and help him up with Niall’s help.
“I can walk,” Harry insists, hobbling forward on his own.
“Let us help you,” I say, sliding his arm over my shoulders. Niall takes the other side.
“I’m sorry I ruined your run,” Harry says quietly.
“Hush,” I say. “The race was my dumb idea.”
“I would say I told you so, but…” Niall trails off.
I shoot him a glare.
***
Back at Niall’s apartment, Harry sits on the edge of the bed while I clean the wound properly and wrap it with gauze.
“I really am sorry,” he says, again.
“If you apologize one more time, I’m taping the gauze over your mouth.”
He lets out a weak laugh. “I’m just embarrassed.”
“About falling?”
“And nearly passing out.”
“A lot of people are scared of blood,” I say gently. “You’re not special.”
“Good thing you’re the one in med school.”
I smirk. “Yeah.”
“I still owe you lunch.”
I shrug. “We didn’t even finish the race.”
“You were going to beat me anyway.”
I don’t argue.
After wrapping the wound, I say, “I can stick around for a bit. Just to make sure it doesn’t bleed through.”
“Are you sure? You’ve probably got a packed schedule.”
I check my phone. It’s 8 AM. “I have lab at noon. I just need to go home and shower and then I’ll be back.”
Niall drops me off at my place on his way to work. I grab my things, shower quickly, then drive back. Harry lets me in.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“I was about to make something.”
“I’ll do it.”
He hesitates. I head to the kitchen before he can protest. After assessing the ingredients in the fridge, I decide to throw together some breakfast burritos. He thanks me when I hand him a plate.
We sit on opposite ends of the couch while we eat.
“Niall’s birthday is coming up,” says Harry.
I nod. “Saturday.”
“I thought I’d cook and host a birthday dinner.”
“Good idea. Niall loves your food.” So do I. “Need help?”
“It’d be nice to have a sous chef.”
I smile. “Sure.”
After breakfast, I work on my laptop while Harry works on his. When my legs get stiff, I extend them in front of me. Harry mirrors me a moment later. My foot brushes his leg. I leave it there. He glances at me. Neither of us says anything.
I start packing up as it gets close to noon. I redress his wound before leaving.
“Thanks, Dr. Y/L/N. I appreciate the help.”
We grin at each other. There’s a moment where I realize I don’t want to leave. A familiar pull threatens to keep me there with him. But I say goodbye, head out, and spend the rest of the day wondering if he felt it, too.
***
Harry loves feeding people. Back in college, he would host cookouts for all our friends. It was a sweet gesture. Everyone appreciated getting a break from ramen noodles every now and then.
I would help out, chopping vegetables, following instructions like a good sous chef. I could see it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction to cook for other people. And I can see now, as he preps food for Niall’s birthday dinner, that none of that has changed.
Leah and Mateo took the birthday boy out on the town and said they’d be back in time for dinner, so Harry and I have the kitchen all to ourselves until then. We slip into our old rhythm. I peel an onion and pass him the garlic before he even reaches for it. I chop the vegetables; he manages the stove. Soon, we’re effortlessly weaving around each other in the tiny kitchen.
I secretly reminisce about all the times we cooked together. A specific Friendsgiving dinner comes to mind. We were hosting at our apartment and barely finished cooking on time because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I remember trying to mash the potatoes while he kept coming up behind me to plant kisses down my neck. We nearly burnt the stuffing because we were too busy making out against the fridge. My lips twitch at the memory, at how badly we wanted each other back then.
A hand on my elbow pulls me back to the present. “Sorry, need a pan,” Harry says, nodding at the cupboard I’m blocking.
I move aside for him, the sensation of his touch still lingering on my skin. I catch his side profile as he stands back up with the pan, using his other hand to push back the curls that have fallen into his eyes.
“Do you still make your banana bread?” I ask. It had quickly become my comfort food when he would make it every time I’d had a bad day or a stressful week.
“Been a while.” He pauses, looks at me. “I can make it for you.”
For you.
I shake my head. “You don’t have to. I was just curious.”
He reaches for the fruit bowl, grabbing a couple of overripe bananas.
“Harry.”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” He starts gathering flour for the bread before I can protest any further.
I watch as he combines several ingredients in a bowl without measuring anything and shake my head in awe.
“I still can’t believe you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Throw things in without measuring.”
He shrugs. “It’s never failed me.”
“I know. It’s infuriating.”
“Hey, you’re good at everything. You’ve got to let me have this one thing.”
I scoff. “I am not good at everything.”
I wasn’t good at keeping you in my life.
“You are. Annoyingly so.” He smirks.
I feel heat creep up my neck. I grab a knife and start chopping tomatoes, needing something to do with my hands.
Later, we’re both standing at the stove, stirring different pots of food, when his phone rings on the counter.
“Can you grab that?” he asks.
I hand over his phone, catching a glimpse of the caller ID.
“Hi, Mum.” He tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder and keeps working.
I’m standing close enough to make out his mom’s responses, though I zone out as they exchange mundane life updates. My ears perk back up when I hear my name.
“How’s Y/N?” his mom asks.
“Good.”
“Have you been spending time together?”
“Mhm.” His curt replies aren’t enough to stop his mom from prying.
“Do you think it’s in the cards?”
“Do I think what’s in the cards?”
“Oh, you know. You and Y/N?”
I try not to outwardly react to any of this so he doesn’t think I’m eavesdropping, but my heart races at his mom’s questions.
He sighs. “I don’t know, Mum.”
“Do you still think the two of you were incompatible?”
“Something like that, yeah.” He turns away briefly, reaching for something on the counter.
I don’t catch his mom’s response.
“Well, that’s part of it,” he says, stirring the pot too aggressively. “Look, Mum, it’s complicated. I don’t really want to get into it.”
“I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to upset you,” his mom says.
“I’m not upset. Just in the middle of something. It’s Niall’s birthday.”
“Oh! Tell him I said happy birthday.”
“I will. Alright now, love you. Call you later.”
“Love you, darling. Bye.”
Harry puts his phone away. Neither of us speaks after that, the light atmosphere from earlier being replaced by an awkward silence. It seems to go on forever until our friends arrive about twenty minutes later. We had invited a few more of Niall’s friends, so with Leah and Mateo, there are seven of us altogether.
Dinner is ready, and everyone digs in. We decide to eat in the living room since Niall’s dining area only seats four people. Harry and I sit on opposite sides of the room from each other. I’m not sure if it was a deliberate choice on either of our parts or if it just happened that way. Our gazes meet every now and then. He’s always the first to look away.
In another world, I’d be sitting next to him, or on the floor at his feet, or in his lap. His hands would find me without thinking, caressing my hip or my shoulder or the back of my neck. I’d steal bites off his plate; he’d pretend not to notice. We’d share amused glances and wine glasses and we’d be happy.
I feel that same magnetic pull towards him the entire night. I don’t give into it. Until he gets up and leaves the room and doesn’t come back for a while. I get curious about what he’s up to and can longer pay attention to whatever conversation is happening in the room.
I get up and collect some dirty dishes, pretending I’m just going to the kitchen to put them away. Instead of rejoining the group, I head over to Harry’s bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, revealing him lying on the bed with an arm over his face. I quietly enter the room, unsure if he’s asleep. Then he moves his arm away from his face to see who just walked in.
I join him on the bed, lying down next to him. We both stare at the ceiling in silence. I’m the first to break it.
“You told your mom we’re incompatible?” I ask, recalling the conversation I overheard on the phone.
“It was easier.”
“Than what?”
“Than explaining that I couldn’t make you want me anymore.” He says it so plainly, without emotion, yet there’s something deeply melancholic in his voice.
“Harry.”
“What? There’s no need to sugarcoat it. I can face the truth.”
“But that’s not the truth.”
“Is it not? You weren’t into me anymore. It’s okay to say that.” It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than me.
I turn on my side to face him. He continues staring at the ceiling.
“I was depressed, Harry. I couldn’t even enjoy a good meal, let alone sex. It had nothing to do with you. You kept thinking it did, but it didn’t.”
“It was hard to think anything else when I couldn’t make you feel good no matter what I did. I didn’t even know how to touch you anymore.”
“I know,” I reply quietly. “That’s why I ended it. I could see how hard you were trying and how much it was hurting you.”
“It was all I could think about. What could I do more? Why am I not enough? Why?” He whispers the last word, yet it rings louder than the rest, like the unknown was what killed him the most.
“I was drowning, and it took me way too long to realize I was pulling you under with me. I’m sorry.” I let the apology hang in the air for a while before adding for good measure, “You were never the problem. I was.”
He finally looks at me, brows slightly furrowed. “You weren’t.”
“I was,” I insist, my voice hardly above a whisper.
He studies my face for a long moment. His gaze shifts to my lips. He hesitates, then kisses me. I’m taken by surprise, not only by the kiss but the intensity of it, like he had been restraining himself for too long. I kiss him back. Our tongues just barely graze each other when he pulls away.
“Fuck,” he says, running a hand over his face. He sits up and swings his legs off the bed, his back to me.
“Harry—” I push up on one elbow.
“I can’t. I can’t do this again.” He leaves the room before I can say another word.
***
Me: Can we talk?
I text Harry in class the next day. I haven’t been able to focus on anything all day. My mind keeps replaying the kiss and his reaction afterwards. We avoided each other for the rest of the night, and I went home when I couldn’t bear it anymore. I hate that it’s been this way since the day he came back. The awkwardness, the passive aggressive jabs, the resentment mixed in with longing and nostalgia. It’s all too much.
Me: Please?
I text him again hours later, knowing that he probably saw the first message and contemplated ignoring it. He replies minutes after my desperate double text.
Harry: Okay
Me: Meet me at the trail at 6:30?
I watch him type for what feels like ages, the sound of my professor’s voice fading into nothing but a distant hum.
Harry: As long as we get to see the view
I smile, relieved at the light-hearted response.
The sun is close to the horizon when I make my way up the trail to meet Harry. He’s already there, lounging on a bench and watching the sunset.
“So, this is the view you were willing to sacrifice your dignity for?” I ask as I approach him, referencing the day he fell on the trail.
He clutches his chest and winces. “Ouch.”
I laugh and take a seat next to him.
“You were adamant about beating me that day,” he says.
My smile fades a bit, as I recall the fire burning in me that day. “I was angry.”
“I know.”
We watch the sunset quietly for a while.
I’m still thinking about how to say what I want to say when Harry speaks, “I’m sorry about what I said that night. About you giving up on us. That wasn’t fair.”
“I get why you thought I’d given up.”
He looks at me.
“If I was in your place, I probably would’ve believed it, too. And yeah, maybe I could’ve tried harder—”
He shakes his head before I can continue. “You weren’t well, Y/N. Saying you should’ve tried harder is like telling someone with a broken leg to just get up and walk.”
I don’t know why—maybe it’s the breathtaking sunset or the compassion in his words or three years of internalized guilt coming out at once—but my eyes well with tears. He notices before I can blink them away and reaches over to squeeze my hand.
“And I’m sorry I disappeared. I thought if I stayed away long enough, it’d hurt less.” He pauses. “Spoiler alert: it didn’t.”
I laugh while wiping away a tear. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I tell him, “I hate that you felt like you weren’t good enough.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Another wave of tears hits me. This time, I let them fall. He pulls me into a hug, and I hold onto him for dear life, my tears staining his hoodie.
I’ve spent three years telling myself that it wasn’t my fault, that I was drowning, that I would’ve shown anyone else the same compassion I couldn’t show myself. None of it ever stuck. I needed to hear it from him.
***
Harry spends most of the next week at my apartment. When he isn’t there, I’m at Niall’s. Somewhere between my neuroanatomy flashcards and his work meetings, we’ve slipped into something that resembles a life together. I study while he replies to work emails from the other end of the couch. We cook, run errands, go on runs, and stay up late talking over cheap wine whenever I don’t have an early class the next day. It’s dangerously easy to pretend we never broke up.
I almost grab his hand on a casual stroll in the park.
He slips up and calls me “baby” when asking me to pass the salt.
I fall asleep on the couch while studying one evening, and he carries me to bed.
I’m not surprised when I overhear Niall asking him about us while they’re playing a video game.
“If someone told me three years ago that you and Y/N would be back together, I would’ve told them to fuck right off.”
“Who said we’re back together?”
Niall just laughs.
“We’ve just been spending more time together.”
“Sure.” Niall pauses. “What’s the plan then? Don’t you fly home in, like, a week?”
“Yeah…”
“You don’t have a plan, do you?”
Harry doesn’t respond.
“You need to talk about it with her, you know. You can’t just disappear again. I don’t think she’d recover this time.”
“I know, Niall. I’m not just going to leave.”
“Okay. Good. You idiot.”
I hear a thump that sounds like Niall whacking Harry’s arm.
“Ow!”
***
That Friday, Harry and I get home from a morning run. I grab a cold water bottle from the fridge and toss it to him. I’m checking to see if I have enough berries to make two smoothies when I hear a soft sigh of frustration. I shut the fridge and turn around to find Harry glaring down at his phone. I try to ignore the voice in my head that comments on how hot he looks standing there in those little shorts, flushed and sweaty from our run, brows furrowed in thought.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Just a delightful message from my boss. I’ve spent the past month working on this project, and now he wants to toss out the whole thing.” He sets his phone on the counter and gulps down some water.
“What? Why?”
He shrugs. “He does this shit all the time. Everyone at work thinks he hates me.”
“What could you have done to make him hate you?”
He averts his gaze, coughing into his fist as he leans against the counter. “Dated his daughter?”
My jaw drops. “Harry.”
“I know, I know. It was stupid.”
“You messy, messy boy.”
“I was… going through a phase.”
I quirk a brow. “A phase. So, it wasn’t just the boss’s daughter then?”
A teasing smirk emerges on his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would, actually.” I cross my arms and lean against the fridge. “Tell me more about this phase.”
He thinks for a moment. “Not much to tell. I dated around a bit. It never went anywhere.” A wry smile tugs at his lips. “Or maybe I never stuck around long enough for it to.”
Before I can pry further, he says, “Your turn.”
“What?”
“I’m sure you’ve got some stories from the past few years. Maybe not as bad as dating the boss’s daughter. But others?”
“I have nothing to share. My love life has been a perfectly boring wasteland.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Why not? ‘Med student too busy to date’ is a tale as old as time.”
He stares at me with a soft grin.
I blink. “What?”
“You’re cute when you lie.”
I shove him in the chest. He grabs my wrist. It’s all too familiar. I’d shove him playfully all the time when he would annoy me. He’d grab my wrist, yank me closer. We’d kiss. Now he lets go as soon as he realizes what he’s doing, but I don’t step back. I move closer, fist my fingers in his shirt, and pull him into a kiss.
Old habits die hard.
At first, he doesn’t kiss back.
“Y/N…” His forehead rests against mine, his breath warm on my lips.
I kiss him again. This time, he gives in. Satisfaction and longing course through me. I deepen the kiss. His large hands grip my waist and push me back against the fridge. I slide one hand up the front of his shirt while we continue making out, his abdominal muscles flexing against my palm with each hurried breath. His fingers linger at the waistband of my shorts. They stop there. When they don’t move, I cover his hand with mine and guide it lower.
He freezes, then gently removes both of my hands from him and takes a step back. It feels like a chasm just opened up between us. I stare at him, puzzled and suddenly a bit self-conscious.
“I want this,” he reassures me. “I want you. I just— I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“Fuck it up how?”
“I don’t know.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
The apprehension in his voice and his face makes my chest ache. He’s afraid of disappointing me. He’s already expecting that he’ll disappoint me. Did loving me teach him to fear intimacy? Is that why he never “stuck around long enough” with these other people he dated?
“Harry, I’m in a much different headspace than I was back then,” I state with years of therapy to back up my claim.
“I know. But what if I’m not?”
I may have overcome my depression, but that doesn’t mean he overcame the wounds of the inadequacy he felt back then.
“Then we’ll take it slow,” I tell him. “We don’t have to do anything right now. Maybe tonight we can just… share a bed?”
He laughs a little. “Just sleep?”
“Just sleep.”
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
There’s still uncertainty in his eyes, but there’s hope, too. I gently take his hand, lacing my fingers through his.
***
I wake up to sunlight pouring through the blinds I forgot to close and a weight on my chest. I glance down to find Harry’s head resting directly on my breasts. He’s snoring softly. With half his bodyweight on me, I’m effectively pinned to the bed. I try to contain my amusement, not wanting to wake him.
We’ve been sleeping together for the past few nights. Just sleeping. Though I swear I felt him grinding against me in his sleep the other night. I didn’t comment on it the next day. When I told him we would take it slow, I meant it.
He stirs eventually, mumbling something incoherent. Then he lifts his head from my chest and squints up towards my face.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I laugh.
“What?”
“Are my tits really that comfortable?”
“Yes. They are,” he replies completely seriously. He rolls over onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. “What’s on the schedule today, boss?”
“Class, lab, more class… And then happy hour tonight with people in my program.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“We try to have some of that when we can. Do you want to come?”
He considers it. “Sure. Why not?”
As I expected, Harry has no trouble mingling with my classmates. They seem to like him. I’ve been introducing him to everyone as an old friend from college. They don’t need to know our complicated history nor do I feel like explaining it to them, quite frankly. Harry doesn’t seem to care.
We’ve been chatting with my classmate Bella for the last ten minutes. I’ve been checked out of program drama recently because my own life has been dramatic enough. Luckily, I can always count on Bella to catch me up on the lore.
“Is Nate back from his sister’s wedding?” I ask.
“Yeah. His girlfriend’s here, too.”
I lift my brows. “Oh.”
“What?” says Harry, catching my reaction.
Bella and I exchange glances.
“Let’s just say Nate’s girlfriend isn’t Y/N’s biggest fan.”
“We hooked up once,” I say flatly. “Before they were even together. She needs to get over it.”
“Once?” Bella snorts. “More like three times.” She looks at Harry with that devilish grin she gets when she’s about to drop some juicy gossip. “Y/N hooked up with half the guys in our class in first year.”
“Bella!” I widen my eyes at her, heat rising up my neck.
“What? He hasn’t heard about your hoe era?” She cackles and tosses back her tequila.
My face burns. “I’m getting another drink.”
I turn on my heel and walk away in spite of my reluctance to leave her alone with him. God knows what else she’s going to expose about me. Maybe it’s my own fault for introducing him as a friend. If she knew we were much more than that, it might have stopped her from spilling my whole sexual history to him. Or not.
I attempt to drown my mortification with a couple shots and some pretzel bites. Harry and I don’t reconvene until later that night. I’m just tipsy enough to be able to face him but not nearly enough to forget our previous interaction. My cheeks start tingling with heat again as he approaches me, black shirt tucked loosely into his jeans, an easy grin on his face. He reaches towards the corner of my mouth and wipes off a bit of cheese sauce before licking it off his thumb.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out.
“For what?”
“Bella. I forgot what a blabbermouth she is. That was so embarrassing.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I know how that sounded.”
“You were single, Y/N.”
“I was a mess.”
“Hey, if I’m allowed to have a messy phase, so are you.”
Fair.
We decide to head home, as most people are doing the same. Harry drives us back to my apartment. I’ve sobered up by then. We crawl into bed. I rest my head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around my body, pulling me into his side. We stay like that for a while.
“I met Nate,” he suddenly says.
“Oh?” I look at him.
“Quite the charmer. Nicer than I’d expected.”
“What did you expect?”
He shrugs. “An arrogant arsehole. A movie villain of sorts.”
I chuckle. “Were you disappointed?”
“Maybe a little.”
“You know it never meant anything with him.”
“I know…” Then he smiles faintly. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be jealous.”
He slowly traces a finger along my jaw, then my bottom lip. My heart slams against my ribs. I part my lips slightly. His finger pauses between them. I wrap my lips around it and suck lightly. He rests a second finger there, and I do the same thing with it. He exhales deeply, gaze focused on my mouth.
Removing his fingers, he replaces them with his lips. I let him take the lead this time, not wanting to push him anywhere he’s not ready to go. He pulls my body on top of his own. His erection presses against me, and I can’t help but grind my hips into him, feeling his cock pulse between us. He groans into my mouth and slides his hands into my shorts, gripping my backside through my panties and holding me flush against him. I can feel the frantic thumping of his heart against my chest so clearly, it almost feels like my own.
“Fuck.” He rests his forehead against mine. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to stop. But instead, he just flips us over and kisses me all over again. I can tell that he’s trying to be in the moment and not in his head.
He takes off my shirt, kissing down my neck and my chest. One hand palms my breast while his lips wrap around my other nipple. I run my hands through his hair while he does that. He slides a hand down my stomach and into my shorts, touching me through my panties. I rock my hips into his hand. He pushes the fabric aside and runs a finger through my wetness. I shiver under his touch. He slips two fingers inside me effortlessly.
“That feel okay?” he checks.
“Phenomenal,” I sigh out.
He laughs softly, his warm breath tickling my skin.
He pumps his fingers in and out of me, his palm massaging my clit at the same time. He watches me moan and squirm under him. When he inserts another finger, my mouth drops wide open. He grabs my jaw with his other hand and covers my mouth with his again.
“Harry, I want you,” I breathe against his mouth. “So bad.”
His lips curve against mine. “Yeah? Where do you want me, pretty girl?”
There he is.
“Inside me.”
“I am inside you, baby.” He curves his fingers up to prove his point.
A whine leaves my mouth. “Your cock.”
“Want my cock inside you?”
I nod, biting down on my bottom lip. My face is on fire just like the rest of my body.
“Inside where? Your mouth?”
“No. Yes. I mean—” He pumps his fingers faster. “A—anywhere,” I finally answer.
He grins, and I feel giddy like I answered correctly.
He makes me come, and I dig my nails into the back of his neck as the orgasm cascades through me. He starts taking off his clothes then, while I remove the rest of mine. All I can think about is his cock and where I’ll be taking it first. My question is answered when he turns me over onto my stomach. His hardness rests against my ass. Tenderly, he moves my hair to the side and kisses the back of my neck.
“God, I missed you so much,” he says into my ear, the words coming out strained and heavy. “Thought about you every day. Wondered if you were with someone else. If you were happy. If you missed me.”
“I missed you all the time,” I say, my throat constricting with emotion.
He kisses the base of my neck and eases his cock into me. I gasp. He mutters some curses under his breath. I have one hand resting up by my face, and he places his own hand over it, interlacing our fingers tightly before moving inside me.
“Missed your cock,” I admit boldly.
He pauses mid-thrust. “What’s that?”
I know he heard me. “I said I missed your cock.”
He chuckles and grinds his hips into me, making me moan. “So filthy. Going to make me come just from saying things like that.”
He starts moving again, his thrusts getting deeper and faster, and I know he’s close. Our intertwined hands on the bed are the only thing in my field of vision. I close my eyes, knowing that this memory will forever be etched in my brain—us making love for the first time after three years of painful yearning.
“You fuck me so good,” I say, knowing it’ll push him even closer to the edge.
“Oh yeah?” He pants, fucking me harder and faster.
“Mhm. The best. The best I’ve ever had.”
I start to lose coherence of my thoughts now, my words turning into a jumble of moans and pleas and whimpers. He slides his free hand under my neck, wrapping his fingers around the front of it. I’m engulfed in bliss, approaching my second orgasm of the night.
“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Come around this cock. That’s it.”
It ripples through my body harder than the last one. I moan his name over and over while he comes too, my pussy milking it out of him with every pulsating spasm.
He collapses on top of me, burying his face in my hair, as his breathing gradually slows. I’m smiling, content to be sandwiched between him and the bed. He rolls off of me and disappears into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth.
After cleaning up, we’re back to cuddling on the bed, my head on his chest and his arm loosely wrapped around my middle. I trace the tattoos on his torso with my finger, trying not to think about the limited time we have left together.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving in a couple days,” I say quietly.
“I know. It went by so fast.” He strokes my hair.
“I’m glad you came back.”
“Me too.”
“Mind if I sneak into your luggage?”
“I would very much like that.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “But you’ve got important things to do here.”
“Nothing’s more important than you.”
I feel his chest rumble with laughter at my corny line and the saccharine way I delivered it. I giggle.
But then my mind drifts to what happens after he leaves. Surely, after everything, we won’t just go back to our separate lives, miles away, not speaking to each other. Right?
“I’ve been looking for jobs,” he says.
“What?”
“Like, jobs here in town. So I can quit the other one.”
I quickly lift my head to meet his eyes. “Wait, you’re moving back here?”
“Do you want me to?” He studies my reaction.
“Of course I do.” I search for any sign of amusement in his face. “Wait, are you serious?”
“So serious.”
“But what about your mom? And your sister?”
He shrugs. “They’ll understand.”
“But you’re okay with being so far from them?”
“Yeah. I want to be close to you.”
“So do I, but I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through. I don’t want you to feel like you have to move for me. We could do long distance if we have to and—”
“Y/N.” He cups my cheek, green eyes searching mine. “I’ve thought about it plenty, trust me. I want to do this. I want to be here with you.”
I don’t know what to say. I just stare at him. This man who left, who came back, who’s been planning a whole future around me.
“These past few weeks,” he continues, “are the happiest I’ve been in ages.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then, before I can stop it, the words spill out. “I love you.”
His face breaks into a grin. “I love you, too.”
***
I park my car by the curb. Harry walks around to the trunk to get his bags. I meet him behind the car. We stare at each other for a long moment, neither of us ready to say goodbye.
“I’ll call you as soon as I reach London,” he says instead.
“Do you have to go?” I realize I sound like a whiny child, but I can’t help myself. I feel like I only just got him back. Him leaving now, even though I know it’s not forever, presses against some old wound deep in my soul.
“Baby.” He takes my hands. “We talked about this. It’s only for a short while. Just until I secure a job here and tie up some loose ends there. And then I’m on the first flight back. I promise.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.
“Do you need my help? I can go to these places in person, tell them how amazing and hardworking and dedicated you are and how I’d hire you immediately if I were them.”
A small, amused smile spreads across his face. “Somehow I don’t think they’ll accept my girlfriend as a reference. But thank you, baby.”
My heart flips at the word ‘girlfriend’. We haven’t explicitly discussed labels, so it pleasantly surprises me.
He pulls me into a tight hug. “It’s not goodbye.”
“It’s not goodbye,” I repeat.
We exchange four I love you’s and twice as many kisses before finally parting. He waves at me one last time before disappearing through the doors. I stand there for a long moment, watching the space where he was.
He said we could be friends. That was a promise he couldn’t keep.
Ugh, I usually don't like angst without a happy ending, and I am SO GLAD THIS DID.
I enjoyed the pace of the story of them both, like how it started off with backstory on their breakup, but not going fully into what actually happened until a bit later.
The condos between all characters flowed beautifully and It really pulls you in, as if you are truly a part of the scenes (if that makes sense)
I loved the tension between the two, I know it was a mixture of a lot of motions mixed into one domineering emotion that being they both still love each other, but because of what happened it's not just an easy feat.
I love that we got to see a bit into Harry's mind, because we saw mostly the inside the mind of the reader, so we already knew what they were feeling/thinking before she ever worded it outwardly.
And i always enjoy when Niall is a part of a Harry fic, I love narry and will always love a writer that includes that Irish man, which was a nice surprise!
There were also moments of "comedy" which i really enjoy, it's not that often that a writer succeeds in making a reader laugh with creating some form of humor during the fic and yours was very natural, the banter didn't feel artificial at all and I totally chuckled at like two funny scenes.
I am also like Harry. I can't do blood. Even while reading that part, i got squeamish, so congrats on making me relate to Harry, but I powered from!
FAVORITE SCENES
After a year of imagining these emotional reunions that never came, it became clear that I probably wouldn’t see him again. Then I heard he’d moved back to London, and I finally accepted that he was likely gone for good. By that point, my guilt had been displaced by a low-level resentment. He had essentially ghosted me, and I had to find out from someone else that he’d left the country. His decision to cut me off so coldly and abruptly, like severing a necrotized limb, made sense and didn’t at the same time. I understood, yet I was bitter. But I was moving on, too. – This whole thing was beautifully written very, very lovely. She has every right to feel this way after he breaks his promise with her.
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“Ow!” – Lol, this made me chuckle, I can literally hear Harry yelp out and ow as soon as Niall whacks him.
I mean, this whole scene was incredible, I had to just take a screenshot of it.
⋆˚꩜｡
I hear a thump that sounds like Niall whacking Harry’s arm.
⋆˚꩜｡
[...] He reaches towards the corner of my mouth and wipes off a bit of cheese sauce before licking it off his thumb. – I don't know what I always find it kind of hot when people do that towards you, but only if it's like someone you're attracted to or in a relationship with. Otherwise, no, thank you. Why do I find this hot?
⋆˚꩜｡
He takes off my shirt, kissing down my neck and my chest. One hand palms my breast while his lips wrap around my other nipple. I run my hands through his hair while he does that. He slides a hand down my stomach and into my shorts, touching me through my panties. I rock my hips into his hand. He pushes the fabric aside and runs a finger through my wetness. I shiver under his touch. He slips two fingers inside me effortlessly. – I mean, need i day more ?
In conclusion, as someone who suffers from depression. Found this somewhat relatable, and you made me feel for the reader. I also think that you illustrated a good perspective on the other pov. Like yes, the reader had her problems, and yes, Harry tried everything within his power to help their relationship from crashing down, but at the end of the day. Like you said, love isn't always enough.
I truly find it interesting when people say it's "mutual," but it's never truly mutual because someone always initiates the breakup and I love how you gave us insight about how it was the reader and we got to saw how Harry felt about the whole ordeal. I think it was a way to bring attention to the fact that yes depression may affect you mentally, but it also affects others based on the changes you go through individually and she did make the right call in ending it before things got worse emotionally. I think it would've damaged Harry more than it had already done. Hence, the need to take things slow.
Another thing i enjoyed was how he was the one that needed to take it slow from how she made him feel unintentionally, and I love how she respected that.
Finally, the way you started talking about Harry breaking a promise and then ending it with a new promise that they knew he wouldn't break. Making it a full circle on promises was beautiful. 💕
I hate the mischaracterisation of Dennis Whitaker.
Dennis Whitaker isn’t a fragile baby. That man is such a secret dom. Friendly and sweet to everyone else. Yet, to you he is authoritative and demanding. In a sense that he knows what he wants.
He’s so domestic and would also do anything for you. Cooking, cleaning, handywork. You don’t even have to lift a finger when he is around. When he isn’t, it painfully frustrates him that you have to ‘get your hands dirty’
He loves bringing you everywhere he is. You both have that kind of love where you are best friends too. Both of you are suckers for a routine. You listen to all his farm stories and watch multiple animal documentaries together. Multiple exchanged baby animal TikToks.
“Awe den look at this one!” You squeal
He looks and it’s a small kitten falling into milk crying. He smiles. You frown staring at the screen. You quickly look at him then back to the whining kitten. “Kind of looks like you! I’m sending this to Trin”
His coworkers adore you and always want you around for work parties and get togethers. You constantly hear new stories of Dennis on shift. You smile knowing you have the most perfect and caring boyfriend.
Dennis Whitaker is a munch. He loves going down on you. Kissing your stomach and trailing love bites up your inner thighs. His tongue focuses on your clit while he listens to how you react to each lick, suck and nibble he takes. Gently, he circles your clit with his thumb. Pushing his tongue into you and fucking you like that. He loves tasting you.
Often he picks you up and throws you around into any position he wants you in. Making sure to leave gentle kisses on your body and caress your curves. As he wraps his hand around your throat - “sweetheart, you are so pretty”
That midwestern charm brings you to your climax every-time. Dennis Whitaker, your strong dominant farm boy.
Okay, I'm making a thread? Or whatever you call it for different genre of fanfics (mainly Harry Styles not gonna lie) and I HATE angst, literally like i love it, but I hate when it doesn't end in a happy ending.
So, I need help finding angsty fics for the angst genre portion of my post. I hope someone sees this and sends some in 🙏🏻
If you're a writer, you can literally send me your own writing too, I have some that I read a long time ago, but it's only two and I want a good some for the post I'm making tysm. 💕
Warnings: smut, some sweat/musk kink (not much imo), pretty minor degradation/condescension, reader eats H's ass (it's at the end so plenty of juicy stuff beforehand if that's not your cup of tea), there is a spicy video linked at the beginning of the ass eating portion to give a better visual (links to the hub™), reader's body isn't really described (entrance is used 1x)
AN: Ahhh! I'm so glad to have finally wrapped this up and I can't wait for you all to read it! Huge shout-out to @maudie-duan & @maladaptivescorpio for being my sounding board's while I trudged my way through this one (and also for their editing prowess)! I hope that this story makes up for my absence and that y'all love it as much as I do! I have added another, separate authors note at the end if you want a lil scoop into my personal life, but that's enough of my yapping. Mwah (˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡
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"Take a run with me," he'd said. "It will be fun," he'd said.
Two miles in and your lungs felt like they were on fire, each breath coming out sharp and jagged, like a million tiny pinpricks. Sweat was beading along your hairline, the nape of your neck. You could feel a single solitary trickle begin its descent down the groove of your spine— icy from the nip of dawn as it carved down your heated skin
And there Harry was, a few paces ahead of you, running like a sub-3 marathon was a walk in the park. He kept looking back at you with one of those easy smiles he so often gave, eyes crinkling in that way that always made you feel at ease, that told you 'you can do this'. The sunlight was pale and golden, just having barely risen over apricot mallow-crested hills. It was unfair how perfect he looked glancing back at you, awash in aureate light, his smile like the sun itself— and there you were, lagging behind, sweaty as one could be, all while gasping for air.
The only upside to this was the shorts he wore— the tiniest shorts you'd ever seen on a man in your life. Almost every glorious inch of tanned, muscly skin was on display. And the fabric of said tiny shorts swished with every stride, revealing tiny glimpses of pale skin that rarely saw the light of day.
Long story short, you'd never felt more sweaty and gross in your entire life.
You only made it another quarter mile before your legs felt like they'd give out, like you were supported by jell-o alone. You hunched over, sweaty palms tacked to unstable knees, gasping for air like you'd been holding your breath underwater. The air cooled around you, licking at your sweat-damp skin with ice-cold fervor, chilling you down to the bone.
From your hunched-over position, you could only make out the bottom half of his body as he circled back— the lean musculature of his thighs, the unfair solidness of his build.
"Hey," Harry panted, "thought I lost ya there for a second." He placed a hand on the small of your sweaty back, thumb brushing against your surely sweat-damp bike shorts.
You glanced up at him past your eyebrows, eyes squinting in the brightness that loomed from behind his towering frame. And that— that was a sight to behold. Illuminated by the rising California sun, a landscape of yucca, cacti, and desert lavender the perfect backdrop for his statuesque body— the sight was near heavenly, and stole the last remnant of your breath.
The remainder of your discomfort dispersed through your shaking limbs, vanishing in the shadow of a new drive— a new desire, one that sparked in the flinty core of your body.
"Can we go back to the house now?" you asked.
With a hand solidly placed against his cocked hip, Harry quirked an eyebrow at you. "Yeah?"
Harry wouldn't be Harry if he didn't continue to jog around you in circles, as you slowly began the journey back to the house. He'd run ahead a hundred feet, before turning and practicing a new 'u-turn' technique he'd mentioned marathoners in Japan had begun to make popular— just to pace right back to you. Each time he made it back, he'd place a kiss on your lips before spinning around and doing it all over again.
Now this, you thought, this was a form of 'running' you could get on board with.
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By the time you made it back to the house, most of the sweat that had accumulated on your skin had dissipated along with the morning dew, leaving you, albeit still somewhat grimy feeling, slightly more rejuvenated than you had felt two miles into the barren Mojave desert.
Harry, on the other hand, was damp with the effects of his run. He'd discarded his shirt a mile into your trek back, tossing the damp cotton in your arms for 'safekeeping ', which you'd rolled your eyes at but still happily obliged in carrying.
The t-shirt you'd so carefully held onto was discarded the second you both stepped into the entryway. You turned, eyeing the slick skin of his chest, how his happy trail and chest hair pasted, wet, over bronze, sun-kissed skin. You skimmed over the illegal length of his shorts, eyeing the exposure of the tiger and words that were not often revealed, yet were now on full display for you.
Without a second thought, you stepped toward him, your hands finding his waist to hold him steady for what you had in mind. Your lips sank to the vale of his collarbone, hot tongue filling the hollow to lick at the salt on his skin. It was filthy and unexpected, evident by the gasp Harry let out between deep, regulating breaths.
As you nosed at his neck, you couldn't help but notice that his body radiated a heat, a taste, a smell you couldn't resist. Pure pheromones. The pure essence of him beneath your nose and tongue. You breathed deep, savoring the natural musk on his skin—similar to the coastal forests you grew up near. There was no refrain as you kissed, open-mouthed—tongue dancing, at the swallows on his chest, carving all the way down until the fine hair of his chest jelled under your tongue.
It was all intoxicating. Just a few moments with him under your nose and tongue and your mind was overtaken by the cloudy haze of 'taste him'.
"That's it," Harry murmured, a smile carving at his lips as you sank lower, your tongue laving at the thorax that adorned his diaphragm.
His hand smoothed over the loose flyaways of your ponytail, fingertips sinking into the contained hair against the base of your scalp as you nosed at fluttering butterfly wings. Licking and nuzzling, you breathed in everything his skin had to offer as you sank to your knees. The smooth, cold concrete beneath you instantly lost in the fiery blaze of your mind.
Harry's skin was still damp, his sweat having started to cool against your cheek as you kissed around his belly button, thumbs tracing laurel boughs. You pawed at the bunched elastic waistband of his running shorts, your nails carelessly biting into soft muscle of his belly as you tore the flimsy excuse for clothing down his thighs.
You were a spectacle to be mused at as you kissed down his abdomen. Your hands anchored at his hips, tongue out and spit slick, until your nose was nestled into the neatly trimmed patch of his pubic hair. You didn't care that he was still sweaty; you didn't care at all. If anything, the rich smell of him only fueled what was becoming irrepressible appetency.
"Oh, fuck," Harry moaned, fingers scrambling for purchase at the root of your ponytail as your tongue began to explore his hardening cock.
Mirth danced in his pupils as he watched you— watched as your taste buds scored against the natural curvature of him. Watched as your eyes went glassy and your spit began to drip in tacky rills from how you were lapping at his cock. You were just his sweet little thing, overtaken by some carnal desire that was rare to see. And how could he deny a sweet thing like you from lavishing at his body?— sweat and all.
"Taste good?" Harry goaded as your lips wrapped around the ruddy tip of him, tongue cradling his frenulum. And all you could do was groan, your eyes slipping shut— because yes, it did taste good. Salt from skin, salt from precum, salt from him. That's all that mattered, him- him- him.
You swallowed him down with ardor. Your passion present in the way you moaned, bobbing your head up and down his length. Every twitch of his fingers in your hair, each new bead of pre on your tongue, it all kindled the desire to consume, to devour; reaching a threshold of near intoxication as you surmounted the weight of him on your tongue, the nudge of him at the back of your throat.
It was messy the way you imbibed on his cock— all spit, eyes closed. One could say you were filthy; Harry certainly said so— "My filthy, filthy girl— sucking my cock so good, baby."
There was nothing Harry felt but veneration at the sight of you— a vision on your knees, your spit frothing at the base of him. Your dedication to the cause (sucking his cock) was admirable; one could even say quixotic. So why would he interfere? To push would be to sabotage, not just to your crusade but to his own satiety, too. So his hand stayed a constant at the back of your head, a grounding force to your undertaking, fingertips biting at your scalp just enough to let you know he was there— that he cared.
Reality slipped through between gags and rivulets of your own saliva. A brief moment where interoception could cudgel through your lecherous frenzy. You sputtered off his cock, spit clinging in sticky tendrils between your lower lip and the tip of him as you gasped for breath.
Now this, you thought, this is a way you wouldn't mind being breathless with him.
You looked up at Harry through salt clumped lashes, blinking away the tears you hadn't even realized you'd begun shed. And there Harry was, staring down at you with that cheeky look of adoration you weren't sure you'd ever get past— like it was you who hung the moon in his twilight sky. It was that look, those murky, mirth-dilated pupils that made you swoon, that told you that you were safe; safe to till at the soil of his body, to harvest what he had to sow.
"Hi," he cooed, fingers smoothing over the wayward hairs that fell loose around your face.
The simple greeting, just that one two-letter word, had you blushing and nuzzling at the crook of his thigh, into the safe ravine of his muscles. It was so ordinary, so casual— too much so for the circumstances. There you sat, cold concrete beneath your knees, spit clinging to plumped lips, his cock just inches from your face, and the word he chose was 'hi'?
Harry's fingers carded over your scalp, smoothing down your hair in a soothing motion. His affection was simple but, despite this, still brought forth an entrancing kind of comfort— the type that pacified you. "Why'd you stop, baby?" You shook your head against his thigh, still too shy to confront your own ravenous behavior.
His thumb brushed over the crease that nestled between your brows, smoothing away the line with a glide of his fingertip. "C'mon, why don't we get you off the floor?" He suggested, stroking along the back of your head, skimming down until he could rub against your shoulder.
Harry coaxed you upright on your shaky legs. His touch stable as he knew that any remaining sense of stability was long lost from the soreness of your muscles and the dissipating dump of adrenaline from your endeavors. He wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you to his chest, cheek smooshed between sparrows as his palms smoothed over the expanse of your back.
"C'mon," He pulled away, bracing his hands on your slumped shoulders. "Did such a good job taking care of me," he hummed. "Why don't you let me take care of you now?"
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Harry pulled you along, slowly, your small hand pressed in the warmth of his grasp, until he was able to guide you in front of the couch and between his already denuded thighs.
He looked up at you through thick lashes, and you swore the gelation of your legs was going to be finalized just by the lithe sea foam of his irises, the leaden weight of his pupils. His palms were so warm, even through the spandex of your bike shorts, moored to the width of your hips, thumbs circling against your hip bones.
"Why don't we get these off?" he asked, timber deep.
You gave a nod, trying your best not to rock against the balls of your feet as he hooked his thumbs beneath the thick elastic band. You had half a mind to stop him when you realized how sweaty you'd been, how salt had dripped into what felt like every crevice and vale of your body. But he must have known; he'd seen how flushed and out of breath you were during your 'run', and if you hadn't cared, why would he?
Harry pulled you closer, until your knees knocked against the twill cushion of the couch, closer- closer- until he was able to paste a kiss in the well of your sternum. Your hand tangled into his short hair, the strands just long enough to stick up spiky between your fingers as you cradled his head to your body. He kissed, first gentle pecks, savoring the smoothness of your skin and the fine vellus hairs that greeted his lips— until avidity took over, until his lips and tongue weren't enough and the brusque edge of his teeth had to make do.
Your grasp tightened in the strands you held so desperately between clenched fingers. Your other hand tangled down at his nape, nails biting at the brawny topography of his shoulders and back as he sucked a mark over the projection of your ribs. The sound rewarded by his infliction rumbled gently beneath his taste buds, filling his mouth with a newfound taste of veneration. Urgency thrummed in both of your veins as his thumbs pried off the two-piece set that clung to your skin.
He mouthed at your belly, your chest, nipping and sucking and laving— savoring every inch of skin he could sink his teeth, his tongue, into. Dignity got lost in a tangle of your limbs, of skin on skin, as Harry pulled you —spread wide— into the cradle of his lap.
Caught in his snare, his hands were nearing opulency, and yet somehow still felt too finite. Fingers slid around the globes of your ass, hoisting, lifting, until he could position you where he liked. And you, you kissed at the rogue, sun-born freckles that had dared to pop up across his cheekbones under the despotic sun of the desert, as he manhandled you into the perfect, pliant position that he desired.
You honed in on the sensation of skin on tepid, sticky skin—on the heat that brewed in the bisect of your legs as his cock nudged against the cleft of your cunt and thigh. You wanted it— my god, you swore you'd never felt a hunger that deep.
You didn't even notice his hand traveling past your hip—not until you released a noise against his cheek, something caught between a mewl and gasp, as his cockhead caught at your entrance. Harry was breathing just as heavy, hot and humid, against the crook of your neck, the width of his hand broad against your lower back, his touch all encompassing.
He helped to guide you with ease, letting gravity take its course as you sank down the length of him. In that moment he occupied your every thought, filling you with such precision, such totality, that there was nothing else beyond the stretch of him against your walls. All your sensations pinpointed down to how he carved out a home for himself within your body, the give of his flesh beneath your nails, the taste of his skin between your teeth as you nipped at his cheekbone.
He pecked at your jawbone in return as you both shuddered out a breath. "Want to act like a feral kitten?" he hummed, lilt caught in his throat. "Then you can ride me like one."
And the low drawl of his words, the condescension laced into his tone, acted like he'd thrown gasoline onto the burning frame of your body. The pain of your tired muscles diffused, replaced instead by an inferno of brute appetency.
Harry's nails bit at your backside, digging into supple flesh as you dared to cock your hips forward. Your clit dragged through the coronet of his pubic hair as the compound of your ragged breaths hung heavy in the interstice of your bodies.
"C'mon," he goaded with a smile. "Show me how bad you want it."
And your overburdened muscles couldn't stop you if they tried.
The sound of skin slapping against skin overtook the room, accompanied only by frayed gasps that filtered past unbarred lips. You were thankful for the anchor of his palms against your back, broad and wide, like he was holding together the threads of your being— fearful that you'd unspool just from the pleasure of it all.
There was no need to be graceful, no gnawing voice in your head that said your movements had to look pretty— that all fell away. Everything fixated down to a single point— the mutual gratification that Harry's cock fucking into you brought. Your drive hadn't simmered down to that needy intuition to take, but it was close.
"Y'were so filthy sucking my sweaty cock," Harry bit out against the shell of your ear, nails cresting the dimples of your back as he thrust up. "My filthy, fucking, girl—"
"Fuck—" You gasped, teeth grazing against his jawbone as your clit rolled against his pelvis in that perfect way.
Maybe you were filthy— driven to madness just by your own hunger. But how could you not be when you had that pinned beneath the plush of your ass. That looking up at with hazy, lust-filled eyes. That cudgeling against the deepest, innermost parts of your being— reducing you to nothing but a vessel of desire.
There was something to be cherished about the noises that crawled up your throat, the unabashed groans and moans that dared to break free, fueled by an ardent hunger. How pleasure played your bodies like an instrument, the resonance echoing in between smooshed, sweaty ribcages. How there, reduced to subdued pleasure, your beings could surrender to one another, unbound.
Your orgasm steamrolled you without warning— hot and shuddering. And you clawed at the very vessel that guided you without second thought, nails gouging out marks in the tanned plane of his back, his shoulders; teeth grazing at the hinge of his jaw as your breaths unified in tepidity.
Slowly he nudged against the furthest reaches of your core, rocking you gently in his lap as you caught your breath against the damp skin of his neck, "How's my good girl?" He asked with a shift of his hips.
Words were so far astray in your mind that all Harry got was a garbled mumble, followed by the faint press of your lips to his collarbone. And that was enough for him as he held you, safe and spread as his palm slid up the sweaty curve of your spine, holding you steady as the aftershocks of your orgasm had you clenching around him.
Harry was content to just let you be, to relish in the softness of your skin, the warmth of your breath on his neck — and while the respite was nice, something still kindled in the flickering core of your body.
You could feel the muscles in his belly tremble as you shifted in his lap— feel the very effect of your body in the vibrations of his breath as he sucked in a sharp inhale. Harry's fingers were loose on your hips, your waist, as you clambered off of him. He stroked along the outside of your waist as you rose tall between his knees. There was a sense of wonderment as he looked up at you, of intrigue of what was to come.
Harry's gaze stayed firm on you as you sank to your knees, his touch light and constant on your arms, your shoulders, the cusp of your jaw— just enough to keep himself grounded to you, to remind himself that this was real.
You nuzzled into the warm cup of his palm, eyes closing as sanctity flowed in. You could envision yourself held in the haven of his branched thighs, kept safely in the web of his scent, his skin, his touch, forever— but you had bigger plans.
You let yourself look him as your nails found the insides of his thighs, running lightly across the sensitive skin. Let yourself admire how his lips parted in a gasp when you kissed the inside of his thigh, just above the knee. How, as you mouthed at untouched skin, his lips stayed parted, suspended like there was something to say— but there was nothing, just the galvanized energy that hung between you two, muggy and crackling.
By the time you reached his cock you swore his ruddy tip had deepened a few shades— still tacky with your arousal and glossy with a fresh layer of precum. Harry's hand tangled in your hair as you licked from the crook of his thigh to the swell of his sack. Dulcet and honeyed, his sweet sounds burrowed just as deeply into your being as his fingers did into your hair. You swore you could feel the tenor of his moan in your own sternum as you pulled the sensitive skin into your mouth.
"Fuck," Harry panted from above—
And that's when the impulse hit.
You'd done it before: nestled yourself so far into the bifurcate of his thighs that you'd carved out a home with just the tip of your tongue. The few times Harry had let you, you'd greatly enjoyed it— enjoyed the way your tongue on his hole made him whimper in that one specific way. How his had body wound so tight with pleasure that his muscles shook down to the source. How the daring venture and curl of a finger or two had elicited the sweetest sounds.
And now, here you were, craving to do it all again— wishing to devote yourself to the consummation of his pleasure until there was nothing left but the salt of his tears cresting on his cheeks and the salt from his cum spayed across his chest.
With mischievous eyes, you looked up at him, smiling. "Flip over," you said without pause, hand smoothing over the inside of his thigh as if to provide comfort for any apprehension of what was to come.
It took Harry a second to process what you meant, his brain still foggy with the memory of your walls tight around his cock. But he saw the ambition laced in your gaze, felt the anticipation of your touch, how your fingertips conveyed an unspoken vow as you stroked along the soft hair lining the insides of his thighs. So with the help of your guiding hand, Harry tottered into the position of your prophecy.
The position was inherently vulnerable: knees anchored apart, back arched; his rubicund cheek pressed against gabardine fabric. Still he settled with his face in the crook of his arms, blind to what you were about to do, but entirely trusting.
And it was that sight, the low curve of his back —how sweetly he arched for you— how his cock hung heavy and tumescent in the split of his muscled thighs, your juices still glistening along the length of him— it was that sight that kindled your desire.
Any whispers of hesitation from Harry dissipated as your touch stayed consistent along his thighs, the outside of his hip, the swell of his ass. You kept your touch slow and deliberate, mindful to embody veneration as you explored the vulnerable expanse of his parted thighs.
You couldn't help but press your fingers into the meat of his ass, not hard enough to leave half moons, but enough that his flesh dimpled around your fingertips as you playfully spread him open. He clenched beneath your touch as the first rill of spit fell in a viscous dribble. You couldn't help but dip your finger into your own beading saliva, drawing the slickness of your spit down and over the strata running from breach to sack.
Your lips fell to the silver striations that crested over his bum, tongue joining in the grooves of growth too fast. As your pointer and middle finger became acquainted with what would soon become your tongue’s new home, you kissed and licked and bit at the plush of his cheeks— earning a gruff little hum when your teeth sank too far.
With one hand splayed over the cleft of his cheek, your other found the root of him, fingers sinking down until your knuckles coupled with the tamed growth of his pubic hair. Your tongue rolled out, unceremoniously, spit already gathered across the soft body of your taste buds, before making sloppy landfall with his perineal stria. And you think to yourself, that at this point, your taste buds probably know Harry better than your mind ever will.
You could feel his muscles unfurl beneath your tongue, your fingers— how his hips canted back in a search for more. And more you were happy to give— happy to lap at the tautness of his rim, tongue slick, as it explored the hollow of its own creation.
You realized then that you'd do anything if it meant being in the audience of the noises he yielded. To soak in every breathy noise, each one more delectable than the last, felt like the highest accolade.
The gentle brush of his fingertips at your chin reminded you that there was more than just his hole to take care of. Your thumb replaced the tip of your tongue, fingertip prodding just beyond the tension of his rim, and you drew his cock backward, taking the ruddy tip of him into your mouth. With your own hand above his, joined at the root where your lips could not meet, you swallowed him down. And that sound —that hiss that rattled from behind clenched teeth— that told you all you needed to know.
His palm fell to your forearm, grasp tight and urgent as his hips began to rock —tipping the crown of himself into the tight vice of your awaiting throat until you were sputtering around his girth. With a gasp and a cough, your fervor did not cease. No— not when his shins were pressed to your biceps, one arm reaching back so that his hand braced at the back of your skull, caging you in the sanctity his body created.
You lapped, tongue dripping in the excess of your own saliva, until Harry's frame surrendered to the bliss you brought forth. Until his muscles unwound into tepid little pools of pleasure. Until his weight fell and your hands were forced to become anchors, snagged in the fortification of laurels. Until he was vitrified and heavy, his only movement the absent shift of his hips —of the impossible slickness that you had created— back against your awaiting, eager tongue.
You would have loved to see his face, to have watched as his brow rumpled, seen how his eyes squeezed shut, like ecstasy was blinding—bright. How his lips parted as a resounding string of nonsensical praise tumbled out — "fuck—ah—so good—always take care o'me so good—". But the triumph of his pleasure, the press of his ankles to your shoulders— how his body rended to the deftness of your tongue would have to be enough.
Harry came with a cry of your name, lachrymose and perfervid—his load warm and drippy as it fell over the cinch of your hand—
And you ate him through it— licked leisurely at the mess you'd created until he whined out in a bleat of overstimulation. Until his legs were shaking, taut with the effects of his pleasure, caging, pulling you in like if you were closer you'd feel it too. It was hard to want to pull away. Why would you when the muscles of his rim twitched beneath your tongue, spasming in waves that called you in.
Though, when you did surrender, strings of saliva strained in the chasm between your bodies, fusing you to him in lucent tendrils.
Harry was usually the one behind your undoing— the one to unravel you stitch by stich, to wind you around a spool to keep all for himself. So to see him reduced to such depths of enervation, to see your ambitions come to fruition, it all activated a new sense of pride. The kind that sat light and warm in your chest, wrapping itself around your ribs until you were buoyant and fuzzy.
There was no rush to move, no mad dash for self preservation, for clean-up. So you sat there, hand on the small of his back, winding tender circles as he caught his breath. You kissed the swell of his bum, the back of his thighs. You whispered sweetness into the softness of his skin as quiet nestled into both of your nooks and crannies.
Silence might unnerve some, carry the fear of uncertainty for others, but not for you two. The hush brought solace, a special kind of comfort. Bared entirely, there was no room for shame, no cubbyholes or shaded corners to shove the ugly things beneath.
You tumbled into a mass of sweaty limbs, of "I love you's", of gangly legs and canted feet. You held Harry's head to the swell of your chest, carded your fingers through his sweat damp hair, as he drew mindless little circles along the side of your hip. Swaddled one another in the care you'd always wished to have received before finding one another, until slowly you both regained some semblance of composure.
"I'm gonna have to take you on more runs if this is how you behave," Harry whispered against your throat.
"You better fucking not," you squawked, tightening your grasp in his hair and pulling hard in warning.
Harry moved faster than you could think, caging you beneath his weight in an instant. His fingertips activated like darts, finding the dip of your waist before you could throw a hand up to stop him. Your laughter struck, clapping like lightning as he tickled you. The sound illuminating and bright— everything that Harry wanted to hear in that moment.
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AN pt2: I wish I could say I am fully back in business after this, but alas, I am not. I'm undergoing a pretty major (and very much life changing) surgery next week (I'm getting top surgery!!) and wanted to get something posted before I am truly down for the count. I am ~hopeful~ though, that over the next 6 weeks, which is how long I am taking off work, that I will be able to get some writing done, but my #1 priority will 100% be rest! (I can just see myself bored out of my mind cooped up at home and getting writing done once I'm off the painkillers). Any whoosle, if you've made it this far I appreciate you so so much and am sending you all the love (๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵) ♡
OMG! THIS WAS SO AMAZING! Like from the very beginning to the end! I wasn't sure about the ass eating part of SMUT (Went in blind due to state hub laws. 😒)
But i think once I got what your vision was, I could not stop at just where they both finished. I also had moments where I didn't know specific words, but I brushly past them and continued lol.
I ended up thoroughly enjoying it, so thank you for i guess potentially waking up a new thing for me, but only in the world of smut, if I'm being honest lol !
FAVORITE SCENES
Harry wouldn't be Harry if he didn't continue to jog around you in circles, as you slowly began the journey back to the house. He'd run ahead a hundred feet, before turning and practicing a new 'u-turn' technique he'd mentioned marathoners in Japan had begun to make popular— just to pace right back to you. Each time he made it back, he'd place a kiss on your lips before spinning around and doing it all over again. – Of course, he would be annoying (in an endearing way) on the way back after almost having the reader die from lack of running experience.
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Without a second thought, you stepped toward him, your hands finding his waist to hold him steady for what you had in mind. Your lips sank to the vale of his collarbone, hot tongue filling the hollow to lick at the salt on his skin. It was filthy and unexpected, evident by the gasp Harry let out between deep, regulating breaths. – No because same🙂↕️
As you nosed at his neck, you couldn't help but notice that his body radiated a heat, a taste, a smell you couldn't resist. Pure pheromones. The pure essence of him beneath your nose and tongue. You breathed deep, savoring the natural musk on his skin—similar to the coastal forests you grew up near. There was no refrain as you kissed, open-mouthed—tongue dancing, at the swallows on his chest, carving all the way down until the fine hair of his chest jelled under your tongue. – 🤭🫠🥵😮💨🤤
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It was messy the way you imbibed on his cock— all spit, eyes closed. One could say you were filthy; Harry certainly said so— "My filthy, filthy girl— sucking my cock so good, baby." – 🥴 I MEAN YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT
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He pecked at your jawbone in return as you both shuddered out a breath. "Want to act like a feral kitten?" he hummed, lilt caught in his throat. "Then you can ride me like one." – I SCREAMED LITERALLY SCREAMED
"Y'were so filthy sucking my sweaty cock," Harry bit out against the shell of your ear, nails cresting the dimples of your back as he thrust up. "My filthy, fucking, girl—" – HOW DOES ONE EVEN REACT NORMAL TO THIS, LIKE FUCK OFF
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You realized then that you'd do anything if it meant being in the audience of the noises he yielded. To soak in every breathy noise, each one more delectable than the last, felt like the highest accolade. – OKAY POET ! WILLAM SHAKESPEARE WHO ?! You made smut sound like some kind of poetry. It's as if it's not the filthiest shit ever !
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"AN pt2: I wish I could say I am fully back in business after this, but alas, I am not. I'm undergoing a pretty major (and very much life changing) surgery next week (I'm getting top surgery!!) and wanted to get something posted before I am truly down for the count. I am ~hopeful~ though, that over the next 6 weeks, which is how long I am taking off work, that I will be able to get some writing done, but my #1 priority will 100% be rest! (I can just see myself bored out of my mind cooped up at home and getting writing done once I'm off the painkillers). Any whoosle, if you've made it this far I appreciate you so so much and am sending you all the love (๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵) ♡" – I'm so happy for you ! Hope everything goes well and praying for a speedy recovery 💕
Summary: Harry grants his colleague her birthday wish.
CW: Smut (MDNI -p in v sex, protected sex, riding, face riding (oral f!rec), clitoral stimulation, praise, talks of sex, dirty talk, whining, sex outside of workplace, workplace relationship, causal hookup, sub!harry), strong language used, nicknames (baby, darling, angel, love, pretty, sunshine, good boy/good girl, no y/n), fluff (banter)
Word Count: 5.2k
Pairing: Sunshine Harry x colleague!fem reader
Location: London, UK
POV: Harry’s, third person
💌 A/N: Part two is here!! 🥳 thank you sooo much for all the love on the first part! I’m trying to decide if we should do one more (explore the going back to the workplace/aftermath more? Let me know!!) Hope you enjoy it, so much fun to write! I absolutely adore their dynamic, hope you do too. ❤️
The morning light beamed through her sheer white curtains, Harry scrunched his face in agony. Slowly his eyes opened, the light rudely interrupting his sleep. As his vision began to focus, his heart started to beat faster as his green eyes landed on a peaceful sleeping woman. A small smile crept to his lips as he heard her softly breathing, mouth slightly open and eyes still closed. He watched her for a few seconds until his eyes drifted around the space. The morning sun lighting up her room revealed her wooden dresser scattered with gold and silver jewelry, a bouquet of fake sunflowers and a few novels that he never read before. His eyes took in the art on her walls, colorful and bright.
Just as Harry shifted, desperately needing the loo, he felt the woman next to him stir in her sleep. Her arm reached out and wrapped around Harry’s bare torso, pulling him down as she muttered something unconsciously in her slumber. He smirked as her head nuzzled against his collarbone, into the crook of his neck.
“Don’t go,” she mumbled, still dangerously asleep and incredibly honest.
“Love,” Harry called out softly, his palm cupping the back of her head gently. He felt her soft, silky hair — brushing the unruly strands out of her bare face. “My bladder is very angry at me,” he whispered into her hair. His hand ran down the small of her back, to the spot where her underwear had rested against her hip. He gave her a little squeeze, hoping it would help draw her from her unconsciousness. “Baby,” he tried again, a little loud.
“Hm?” She finally stirred, peaking her eyes open, slightly startled. “What happened?”
“You were trying to cement me to the bed,” Harry joked, slowly undoing his grasp on her. “Need to use the loo, angel. Think y’can let me go for just this one time?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Sorry,” she removed her arm and gently broke away from him. He watched her for a few seconds as she rubbed her eyes, all sleepy and confused. He leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead and whispered, “be right back,” before leaving the comfortable tangled sheets. Harry disappeared to the bathroom, did his business and came back after washing his hands.
When he walked through the doorframe, he saw his colleague sitting up in bed on her phone. The sweatpants he borrowed hung dangerously low on his hips, strings loose.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Morning,” she grumbled, setting her phone face down on her burgundy duvet. “How are you?” She asked, a cautious tone in her voice.
“Good, would’ve been better if you didn’t take all the covers last night.” He teased, a grin on his face. “Slept like a baby though.”
“Me too, we totally knocked out,” she yawned, stretching her arms over her head.
“Probably bored of all my nonsense about how breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” He recalled, stepping into her bedroom more.
“I just don’t understand why you need to eat yogurt everyday, Harry.”
“Well, you’re not eating it.” He shot back cheekily, “there’s something called preferences, love.”
That earned him an eye roll. He accepted it, joining her back on the bed.
“S’alright, no yogurt today. How about eggs? I can make a mean scramble or fried is my specialty.”
“Oh,” she nodded, pulling him close. “Fried sounds delicious.”
“With buttery toast?” He suggested.
“Yes, and coffee,” she added.
“Yes, but needs to be black.”
“Black coffee? Harry, are you okay?” She argued. “That’s disgusting.”
“I would say mature but sure, disgusting if you haven’t developed your palate.”
“Oh God,” she rolled her eyes again.
“You keep doing that,” Harry called out.
“Doing what?” She asked, a small smirk on her face.
“Y’ know what you’re doing,” Harry smirked back.
“Hm, don’t really recall doing anything.”
“Oh, yeah?” He scoffed, “typical.”
“Typical?” She laughed, “what on earth does that mean?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head with a dimpled grin. “Alright, team beans or no beans? You already know my take.”
“Make the beans, Harry.”
“Good girl,” he said cheerfully, satisfied with her answer. He leaned forward, pecking her lips. “Care to join me? Monitor and analyze my chef skills? It’s an important mating skill to have.” Harry teased, fully smiling now. His cheeks hurt but he was happy, so happy.
“Alright, sunshine. I suppose I can be convinced to get out of bed so you don’t burn my flat down.”
“Oh, I’m offended.” Harry placed his hand on his heart, shaking his head. “Thought you knew me better, love.”
“Harry, you eat yogurt everyday for breakfast.”
“Fair enough,” he outstretched his hand as he rose from the bed. “Come on,” he half demanded. “Could use a sous chef.”
As the pair entered the living-room, Harry let his eyes wander a bit before following her to the small kitchenette area. “Right so, eggs, beans, toast?”
“Yes, chef.”
“Oh,” Harry coo’d. “I like the sound of that.”
“‘Course you would,” she laughed, pulling out the eggs from the fridge. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
Harry moved around the kitchen, opening cabinets carefully to find what he needed. He grabbed a skillet pan that was tucked away and started the fire. They fell into a comfortable quiet, focusing on their own individual task while working together.
“Sunshine, huh?” Harry asked, breaking the silence. He was curious about the little nickname she mumbled to him in defense. He could guess why she said it but wanted to hear it from her lips. The eggs sizzled on the pan as his colleague tried to school her reaction.
“Oh, that… I just — well,” she let out a sigh. “You always seem so happy and bright, you’re warm to everyone like sunshine so… it’s fitting.” She explained, keeping her gaze away from him as she busied herself with scooping the coffee grounds into the pourover cup.
“’m not warm to everyone,” he argued. “The new intern is an absolute bloke,” Harry said, pointing the spatula in her direction. “And I’m certainly not always happy,” he admitted, over exaggerating as he turned the fire off, the eggs solidified in the pan.
“I’ve never seen you unhappy.”
“Well, that’s because ’m very good at masking it,” Harry regrettably argued back, wishing the words didn’t flow out of his mouth so honestly. The space felt a little too quiet as he moved the eggs from the pan to two matching decorative plates.
“You don’t have to do that around me,” Harry m’s eyes snapped towards her as she reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, halting his movements.
Harry smiled, it was small but genuine. “Okay,” he said simply. “You’ll get all the unsavory parts too, like that burnt toast,” he compared, eyeing the well done toast that popped up from the toaster oven.
“Good thing I don’t mind a little rough around the edges,” she said, taking a step back to watch him. He let her stare at him without mention for a few seconds before he spoke up again.
“Sous chef, we have a problem — we forgot the beans,” Harry noted, pointing to the unopened can sitting on top of the counter. Harry often used humor to cope, ease the tension and make everyone feel a bit more comfortable. It was his superpower almost except, great superpower came with responsibility and expectation.
So, yeah… He masked a little, it was easier being the fun, charming, go lucky guy then the one who has to stick to a routine and drowns in loneliness. If only she knew how much the last twelve hours had such an effect on him. Harry had never genuinely been this happy, not with anyone but her. She made it feel easy, warm and welcoming even when she hesitated and questioned him.
“Toast and eggs are enough,” she shrugged with a small smile. He watched as she did the pour over, sticking to his request and add no cream or sugar. Harry carried the plates of buttered toast and eggs her small table and sat down next to her.
“So, what are the plans today other than proper birthday sex?” He asked, not shying away from the idea of them being intimate together.
She must’ve been shy because she nearly choked on her coffee, Harry noticed that.
“Careful, darling.” He mumbled, getting her a napkin before taking a bite out of his bread.
“Are you… staying after that?”
“After what?” Harry asked, “the sex?”
“Yeah, I just figure you’d probably want some of your weekend to yourself.”
“Nope,” Harry popped the ‘p’, “I’m all yours, if you’ll have me that is.”
He earned a smile from her, he watched as her shoulders dropped and she began to properly eat.
“This is good,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
“Good,” Harry’s smile spreading wider as he watched her fill her tummy. “You’ll need the carbs,” he hinted, being a bit suggestive.
Harry and his partner ate in the morning calmly, indulging in conversation about themselves outside of work. Harry easily took control of the conversation, allowing it to flow smoothly.
“Ok, so what country is your must see?” Harry asked, sipping on his now cold black coffee. “If you were stuck, had to live there forever and only could pick one?” Harry asked, genuinely picking her brain.
“Oh,” Harry watched as she thought for a few seconds, pondering the question. He noticed how her lip pouted as she thought about her answer, the slight shift in her posture and the way her eyes looked up towards her ceiling. “Maybe….”
“Maybe? No, you gotta be more sure than that love.” Harry teased, smiling at her.
“Okay, okay. I would love to live in a small, tiny village in Italy. It would be warm and sunny, quiet and comfortable. Lots of fresh pasta and yummy pastries,” Harry nodded, listening to her as she spoke. “I don’t know, I think I’d just want a quiet life. What about you?”
“That’s a good answer until you think about learning Italian,” Harry posed, he tapped his fingers against his stubble, thinking for a second. “I would pick somewhere with a beach,” he said, “Jamaica!” He clapped his hands. “Definitely Jamaica,” Harry added.
“I could see you there,” she smiled, it was the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
“Yeah?” He smirked, “I’d have to come visit you in Italy. Invade your tiny village,” he joked, smiling back at her.
There was a few seconds of quiet, Harry let them sit. He pondered the important questions, questions regarding relationships, religion and sex. He was very curious but didn’t want to over step.
“Tell me what you like,” he demanded, his green eyes boring into her own.
“What do you mean?” She asked, “we just spent the whole morning—,” Harry smirked, a chuckle erupted deep from his core.
“No, darling. I’m talking about sex wise,” Harry clarified. “Tell me what you like during sex,” he asked more firmly but not unkindly. He was deeply curious and equally interested because he didn’t want to just satisfy her — he wanted to transcend her.
“Oh, uhm…” He loved the way her cheek heated up, putting on a little innocent act right in front of him. “I like… a lot of dirty talk,” she started, her gaze falling to her speckled table.
“Okay, dirty talk. I like that too,” he agreed. “What else?”
“I mean, last night…” she shifted in her seat, he wondered if she was squeezing her thighs together? Feeling all achy like he was starting too. “When you gave me head, it was really good — felt really good.” Harry smirked, licking his lips as he remembered her taste.
“I’m not shy when it comes to eating pussy, it’s one of my favorite things.” Harry said proudly, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “What else? Do y’like rough sex? Slow? Hard?” He threw out some words, gauging her reaction.
“I like… a mix of everything , rough and slow, faster and hard.”
“I can do that, I can do whatever y’like.” Harry smirked, “Do you like being more submissive or more dominant?” Harry asked carefully, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Oh, I — I guess, I’m not really sure. I don’t mind either,” she shrugged, biting her lip.
“Yeah?” Harry slowly stood up, pushing his chair back as he rounded the table to her side. “I really, really like being submissive,” he started, crouching over the back of her chair. “You telling me what to do makes me really, really fucking hard.”
“Yeah?” She questioned, her voice a little more breathless.
“Or, we could switch.” Harry suggested in her ear, his lips brushing against the curve.
“Switch?” She questioned, keeping her body so still for him.
“Mmhm,” he mumbled as he pressed a soft kiss against the side of her neck. “I’ll fuck you whatever way you’d like but you have to listen to me, be a good girl for daddy.” He let his fingers trail up the side of her arms, past her forearm and to her collarbone. “What do y’think, angel?”
The question was loaded, he was intrigued by what her answer would be. When she began to stutter out an answer, he listened.
“I — I don’t know,” she tried.
“No, baby. You know,” Harry encouraged her, his fingers reaching out to feel the smooth, cool speckled table. “I could bend you this table, fuck you senselessly with your hands behind your back…” he let the image settle, his voice like honey. “Or we could go to your sofa, you could ride my dick as I suck on your pretty breasts?”
Fuck, he was so hard but he cared more about her than himself. Harry pulled her chair out slightly, crouching down in front of her. He found her beautiful eyes, his softening when he looked up at her. The energy had shifted, after all that sexual tension and anticipation, he’d be blessed to have her again — to worship her.
“Come on, baby. Don’t keep me waiting down here on my knees,” Harry pleaded out, the whine in his voice had returned. “Are you gonna make me beg?” He asked a second later.
“I wanna ride you, can I, please?” She asked, choosing exactly how he’d picture her at his office desk too many times to count.
“Yes, baby. Of course you can,” Harry let his hands fall to her thighs, squeeze gently as his palms slipped under her oversized shirt. “So polite to ask, think you deserve a little reward. Can I eat this pretty pussy first? Please, baby. I’ve been thinking about it all morning,” His fingers brushed against her panties, just where a patch of hair rested under the cotton fabric.
“Please, Harry. I love your mouth,” she beamed out, lifting her hips to take off her underwear. Harry slid them down her ankles, off and forgotten. “Do — do you want to do it here or on the sofa?” Her nervous voice asked, abusing her bottom lip.
“Let’s go to the sofa, want my girl comfortable.”
As they maneuvered over to her green, plush sofa — Harry took it upon himself to lay across it. “Wanna ride my face, baby? Take what’s yours, I’m all yours.”
He watched her hesitate for a second before a flash of hunger swept over her eyes. “Is it okay?” She asked, stepping an inch closer to Harry’s laid out position.
“Hundred percent okay with me, baby.” He thought for a second, wondering which safety method would be best for her to utilize. “How about we try a tapping method if anything is ever too much?”
“Tapping method?” She questioned.
“Yeah angel,” Harry started to explain, “if we tap three times, we immediately stop and do a check in, see where we are at and if we want to continue, does that sound okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“And you can always say stop or ask if we can take a pause, anything my love, always want you comfortable.” Harry encouraged, “I’ll never do anything you don’t want, baby.”
“Same goes for you, Harry. I want you to enjoy it too,” she smiled as she leaned down and pecked his lips.
“I enjoy you very much, baby.” He rubbed some gentle circles on her thigh, patting his chest. “Take a seat, you won't hurt me, promise.”
“Okay,” she said a little breathless but cautiously moved over Harry, positioning herself over his mouth. Harry could look up and see her face, a perfect position for him. “Use the arm rest for leverage so you don’t get so tired, love.” Harry knew a thing or two about sex. He hadn’t had loads of partners but did his research and educated himself to know a little (or a lot) about how to make a person feel comfortable. He prided himself on safety inside and outside the bedroom. He wanted to create a safe place where the person he talked to, especially a partner, could fully enjoy themselves without judgment and that’s exactly what he planned on doing.
With her thighs settled around his head, not too tight and only hovering over him — his hands wrapped around her backside. “You’re sure this is okay?” She asked again, looking down at him.
“Yes, darling.” He gave her one last reassuring look, nodding his head in agreement. “Look at this pretty pussy,” Harry let one of his hands spread across the front of her navel, just by the small patch of hair that décorated her pubic area. His thumb rubbed against her coarse hair, eyeing her reaction. “Can I play with you, baby? Look so pretty and sweet,” he groaned out, shifting down a little so his face was directly in her pathway.
“Please, Harry. I’m all achy,” she admitted, still tentatively hesitant. Harry heard enough, eager to please since he got her consent. He used his hand on her backside to encourage her down onto his mouth. The first contact was all wet and warm, utterly intoxicating as he could smell and taste her arousal on her skin. His tongue flattened against her, flush against her clitoris as he began to flick the tip of his tongue for some friction.
As he heard a soft gasp echo through the room, it only spurred him on. The way her hips started to involuntarily move, desperately cautious but entirely needy — he didn’t know how to encourage her more than motorboating his face against her slick, achy vulva.
“Give it to me,” he begged, softly moaning out as his lips and nose were flush against her. He nudged his pointed nose against her wet arousal, breathing her in. “Shit baby, never gonna get enough.” He whined, wrapped his lips around her clitoris.
“Har— Harry,” she moaned out, grinding her hips against his mouth and nose. “Feels so good, baby. Don’t stop, please.”
“Never,” he muttered as she became more comfortable, dropping her hips a little and fully sitting down on her seat. “Mmmmhm,” Harry moaned out under her, fully enjoying the tangy, sweet taste of her arousal soaked up on his tongue. He didn’t want to waste any of it, too greedy to let any of her wetness go to waste.
“Oh fuck. you’re tongue is so, so good,” she moaned out. The arm rest creaked under her weight as she shifted tilting her pelvis out as she looked back over her shoulder at his pelvic area. “You like this, hm?” She questioned with a quiet confidence.
Harry was hard as a rock through his borrow sweatpants, all the blood flowing down to his shaft as she moaned out above him. Harry felt her hand reach back, spread across his tummy before her palm made contact with his clothed hardness. His hips jolted by the sudden friction.
“Ohh,” he moaned against her, it wasn’t even the feeling alone but the combination of her riding his face and taking initiative to touch him coursed through his veins like hot lava. Harry took the opportunity to push her down onto him more, munching away at her clit, swirling his tongue along her entrance— not wasting a drop.
“Baby, baby,” she moaned, “jus’ wait please,” Harry instantly stopped the moment her voice laced with hesitation.
“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” His tone was serious, extremely alert and tentative to her halt.
“No, no baby,” she eased off his face, placing her foot on the floor to stand properly. “I just didn’t want to cum yet, I wanna try to orgasm with you,” she explained. Harry, who was propped up on his elbow instantly relaxed a fraction, his dimpled smile returning to his face.
“Jesus Christ love,” Harry placed his hand over his heart. “You worried me there for a second,” Harry regained his composure the second his partner leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Promise, everything is good. I just need to grab a condom,” she was gone and back seconds later. “Okay,” Harry watched her as she let out a breath, the metallic foil resting between her two fingers. “So uhm, are you okay… if I put it on?”
“Yeah, ‘course baby.” Harry sat up a little, tilting his hips enough to ease his borrowed sweatpants off of his frame. He was still semi-hard but a little flaccid from the loss of contact and worry that coursed through him at once. “Protection is always best, want us safe.”
Harry knew it would feel better without, not just for him but for her especially. He also knew the risks involved. He couldn’t possibly put her in harm's way or have an accidental pregnancy. But God, if he got the chance in the future with enough communication and consent, he’d easily take her raw. Before his brain could fantasize about that scenario, he heard the sound of the condom wrapper rip open. His hand instinctively went down to his shaft, pumping himself without shame. He easily got fully hard, the look of his colleague watching him curiously was enough to get him fully aroused. Not to mention, the taste of her still on his tongue and her scent that stayed on his face, he was practically in heaven of sorts.
“Okay, ready.” Harry said softly, letting her ease the condom down his shaft.
“I brought a little lube if that’s okay too,” she said, showing the clear, small body in her hand.
“Of course, want you most comfortable. Do y’have any toys?” Harry asked, half curious if she was into those types of things.
“Uh,” she thought for a second, “I just have a rose toy,” Harry nodded, offering a shrug. “Maybe we can use that next time,” he hoped he wasn’t being too forward by insinuating there was going to be a next time. Harry wanted to get to know her outside of sex too but he figured that if it was one time, there might be a second. Harry gave her a small smile, his hand trailing up and down the outside of her thigh.
“Come on,” Harry smirked, “get comfortable,” he mumbled as she straddled him once again, his waist this time. “Go as slow as y’want and if anything feels wrong, we’ll stop immediately.” He promised, half sitting up against some flattened throw pillows.
“Okay,” she smiled, biting her lip as she lowered her thighs so they were touching. He could see some nerves run through her face as he gently touched her thighs, encouraging her to settle completely.
“Hey,” he coo’d. “Are you okay? You can always change your mind, love. I won’t be upset at all,” Harry promised, serious as ever. His hand went to her chin, giving her a small smile.
“I’m okay, just a little nervous.”
“I’m nervous too,” he let out a breath, “let’s just go slow.”
“Okay,” she whispered into the air, nodding her head.
“Kissy?” He asked, his eyes adoring her own. She looked so gorgeous up close, no pretty… extremely, extra pretty. When their lips collided, he started slow — letting her lead. One hand stayed on her thigh and the other went to the crook of her neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue danced around her mouth, mixing their saliva before nipping at her bottom lip. “Mm, taste so good,” he whispered against her lips.
As they continued to kiss, his hand traveled down her chest, cupping her breast. He heard her moan softly, barely audible as his thumb brushed against the hardening nipple. Her hips began to rotate slowly as their lips stayed connected, the friction felt so intoxicating that Harry gripped her hip to encourage her to continue.
As her vulva and clitoris brushed against his shaft, Harry felt the air shift a little, the tension building close to penetration. “Oh, pretty girl,” Harry broke the kiss, “feel so perfect like this.”
“Yeah?” She moaned out, focusing her attention a little on her hip movements, the friction creating a soft wet sound that filled the air. “God, I need you inside me.”
“Yeah, baby? You need me?” Harry let his hands fall to her hips, his lips attached to her neck. He pressed an open-mouth kiss against her before nipping at her ear. “Take it, baby. It’s yours, all yours.”
They maneuvered a little, her hips rising to properly sink down on him. Harry grabbed the lube off the table and opened the cap. “Is that a good amount?” He asked, the clear liquid glossing over the top of the condom.
“Yes, think that should be good. We can always add more,” she mumbled before positioning herself to sink down onto his shaft. They had all the time in the world but god, this moment felt like ages. Harry wanted her to be the most comfortable and he understood that taking someone new for the first time could be an adjustment at first, especially since he was girthy.
“Go slow and breathe through it,” Harry reminded her as she slowly sunk down onto his cock. They both let out an audible gasp simultaneously. Harry kept his hands on her hips for support. “Fuck,” he cursed out as she took him fully. “H— how are you, good?” He checked, his cock throbbing already from the snug feeling.
“So good, you’re so big…”
“Big good or big… uncomfortable?” Harry dared to ask.
“No, like a good big… a good… stretch,” she giggled a little, “that’s such a funny word.”
Harry laughed along with her, “it’s definitely a little funny, I’m glad you’re feeling good baby.” Harry rubbed her thighs and the curve of her back with his thumb. “Remember, you can always tap out if you need,” he reminded her. Harry let his eyes fall over her breast, the way her stomach bunched up a little and her thighs wrapped around him. He smirked at her position, she looked so beautiful but he knew it was probably vulnerable for her — it was vulnerable for the both of them.
“I’m gonna move a little,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, her chest properly in his face as she shifted her position up to bounce on his cock slowly. “Oh shit,” she mumbled against his shoulder, Harry held her hips tighter — letting her control the pace.
“Oh, baby.” His eyes closed for a second as her hips rotated and she bounced — finding her rhythm. Harry’s lips pressed against her skin as his hands supported her, taking some of her weight. He smothered her with hot, open mouth kisses along her sternum and the curve of her breast before enclosing his mouth around her nipple. He watched her face, pure ecstasy as pleasure coursed through them both.
“Fuck, Har — Harry, it’s so good, your cock feels so good.” Her voice was thick like honey but sweet and warm.
“Yeah, baby? Feels so good for me too, it’s all yours baby, made for you.” Harry groaned out against her chest. As her pace increased, her breathing coming in more erratic, Harry began to thrust up — meeting her. “Pretty girl, fucking me so well,” Harry moaned, not holding back the amount of pleasure and adoration coursing through him. His eyes dropped to where they were connected, the picture only spurred him on.
“Use me baby,” he encouraged as he laid down more against the pillows. Her hand braced against his chest, taut against the palm of her hands as she rode him with ease. The room filled the sounds of their moans and shared breathing, beckoning on to one shared common goal.
Harry’s hand stayed on her hips as she continued at a steady pace. He tilted his pelvis up, his pubic area creating an addicting friction against her clit. “Oh Harry!” She moaned out, loudly.
“Jus’ like that baby,” Harry groaned, feeling a warm bubble build in his tummy.
“Oh, Harry, fuck me!” Her voice raised, coming out needy as ever. Harry took the opportunity to fully thrust up into her, angling his hips with firm precision.
“Good boy,” she praised, which caused Harry to curse out and nearly cum right there and then. He drove harder, feeling her beginning to clench around him.
“Oh fuck, say it again please,” he moaned out, his grip tightening.
“Such a good boy, sunshine.” She dragged out and moaned loudly. Her hands gripping his chest as her arousal sounded throughout the intimate space. Harry leaned up completely and kissed her hard, dominating her mouth for a few seconds before he pulled away to focus on his movements.
“I’m close, baby. So close,” she murmured, so focused that she looked even prettier.
“I know baby, I can feel you, you’re s’tight, squeeze me.” His voice was thick with desire, his accent more pronounced. Harry's two fingers reached between them and gently rubbed her clit, apply sweet pressure.
He felt her take a big breath, her orgasm rocking through her so hard that she couldn’t even form words. She clenched around him, shaking and gripping his shoulders for support. She gasped into the crook of his neck, her breath warm against him. As she rode out her orgasm, Harry felt himself leak into the condom. He gripped her waist, holding her firm against him as he groaned out in pleasure. His voice was low and raspy, laced with utter surrender and exhaustion.
“Fuck,” he cursed, a grin appearing on his lips as she fully collapsed against him. “Utterly spent, hm?” He asked after a few seconds, kissing her shoulder. “You did such a good job, pretty girl.” He whispered praise into her ear, rubbing the small of her back gently.
“That was…” she paused, “the best birthday sex I’ve ever had, thank you.”
“Oh no, thank you.” Harry smirked, “that was also the best birthday sex I’ve ever had…” Harry chuckled, “think we almost should make it an annual thing,” he teased.
“Or bi annual,” she laughed.
“Oh, you’re right. Smart girl,” he grinned. “It would be bi annual if it was for us both.”
“When’s your birthday?” She asked curiously, her cheek resting against his chest. Harry smirked at the question, eager to answer.
“The first of February,” he answered, a smirk widening.
“Oh God, that’s ages away.”
“Proper,” he frowned, “think you can wait around for me?”
“‘Course, guess regular sex will do.” She pretended to be pout, a small smile spreading across her lips.
“Promise not to go boring on you, we can spice it up.”
“Oh yeah?” She whispered, a bit suggestive. “And how’d we do that?”
“I have my ways,” Harry smirked, “I’m in the business of keeping my customers satisfied.”
“Oh, so I’m a customer now?” She asked, cheekily.
“Far from it, love but I’ll do my best to always satisfy you.”
“I’m thoroughly satisfied, Harry. Thank you,” she beamed.
DIDN'T THINK IT COULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN ANY BETTER THAN PART 1 AND YET... IT DID !
I really, really, really, really enjoyed the beginning as a whole, so it's not part of my favorite scene because it would get too long, but I love how the morning started off. I enjoyed how comfortable they kind of are with each other basically despite not really knowing each other outside of work !
I enjoyed the banter between them, one thing about me is, I love when people in fanfics banter, if they have good banter, then that means good chemistry in my book 😉
I will say the beans part, ew gross, I know you're doing it the British way and my Chicana heart was breaking.... it's either the Mexican way or the highway cause just no, I won't stand for it. It's treason. (I'm totally kidding. Please don't take everything literally)
I enjoyed the bit of getting to know Harry a bit more, while he cooked breakfast, I think that's what was missing in part 1 and the fact you did it on this one, was perfectly done. I love how honest he is and was like willing to correct her assumption about him being sunshines and rainbows and how that's not the real him, it's more just a mask and her being like well you don't have to pretend with me. I think it made me feel more connected towards him and enjoyed the smut more.
I also liked the fact that they conversed and he had no problem taking the lead, as you established in the first part that she's not really good at starting up and continuing a conversation, but he's really good at it, so I enjoyed hoe easily he was able to get her comfortable enough to open up.
I also liked how easily you eased up into the tension and the smut that you didn't rush or skip into it, I like when a fic had a nice mix of banter and smut ! So kudos to the way you transitioned from easy talk, to tension so smoothly, like before I knew it the tension rose and it was amazing that it didn't feel glossed over to get straight into the smut ! Not a lot of people are able to do that, and you definitely did.
FAVORITE SCENES
“Good thing I don’t mind a little rough around the edges,” she said, taking a step back to watch him. He let her stare at him without mention for a few seconds before he spoke up again. – So true, who wants a picture-perfect polished man
So, yeah… He masked a little, it was easier being the fun, charming, go lucky guy then the one who has to stick to a routine and drowns in loneliness. If only she knew how much the last twelve hours had such an effect on him. Harry had never genuinely been this happy, not with anyone but her. She made it feel easy, warm and welcoming even when she hesitated and questioned him. – Well how sweet and romantic, and he's winning me over
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“No, baby. You know,” Harry encouraged her, his fingers reaching out to feel the smooth, cool speckled table. “I could bend you this table, fuck you senselessly with your hands behind your back…” he let the image settle, his voice like honey. “Or we could go to your sofa, you could ride my dick as I suck on your pretty breasts?” – Pardon? He just said that with his whole chest and not a trace of decorum, while food is in front of them !
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“And you can always say stop or ask if we can take a pause, anything my love, always want you comfortable.” Harry encouraged, “I’ll never do anything you don’t want, baby.” – God I'm a sucker for a gentleman, who is a consenting king, but also will be a filthy man during sex. Where are these men at?
“Okay,” she said a little breathless but cautiously moved over Harry, positioning herself over his mouth. Harry could look up and see her face, a perfect position for him. “Use the arm rest for leverage so you don’t get so tired, love.” Harry knew a thing or two about sex. He hadn’t had loads of partners but did his research and educated himself to know a little (or a lot) about how to make a person feel comfortable. He prided himself on safety inside and outside the bedroom. He wanted to create a safe place where the person he talked to, especially a partner, could fully enjoy themselves without judgment and that’s exactly what he planned on doing. – 🫠 I approve
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“I have my ways,” Harry smirked, “I’m in the business of keeping my customers satisfied.” – Hehe, is this a play on to his song 😏
Overall, the whole writing was my favorite, from top to bottom, and I loved the whole good boy part ! I really enjoyed the whole thing and the way he's so unapologetically a moaner. Yes, thank you ! We love a man that isn't afraid to show how good they're feeling when doing this kind of stuff !
I hope we see them again and maybe a bit more confidence towards the reader, and she ruins him, her submissive man, I just know it would be so yummy, and he would eat that up !
First of all, you doing these long, thoughtful reblogs for authors and sharing your favorite parts is an amazing privilege to be apart of! ❤️ I’m forever grateful and thankful that you think my writing is worth reading and sharing feedback because wow, it helps my confidence as a writer SO much!
These two have a special place in my heart! I think for now, I’ll put them on hold! (I’m 100% going to circle back to them! Definitely want to write more smut and some angst between their characters!)
Thank you for all your kind thoughts and seriously, you made my night! I think authors deserve so much recognition and sometimes it feels a bit transactional but this… the feedback — that’s a part of the reason why I write! I want to hear your thoughts, I want to know your favorite parts, I want feedback for the next or ways to improve!
No problem ! I try not to repeat what I say towards everyone, and I think giving my favorite scenes is just a fun bonus for writers to know what clicked for the reader (me)
So thank you for appreciating me, appreciating you, lol. I am so bad at receiving any praises. I just want to throw it back towards the person ! 💕
Ans of course that's why I started to give feedback/praises because I've seen many writers kind of talk about how readers often lack in that department and as a people pleaser this really was a healthy way to shift that energy and to hopefully make writers feel seen. It's the least I can do, given that you guys take time out of your busy schedule to write and post this stuff for free !
So, no problem, I'm just so grateful for you guys ! I grew up on reading fanfics and writing some fanfics myself, at one point, so i know the struggle it is sometimes to write and feel underappreciated, even if writers don't write for the attention, but it's nice and motivates you to keep going ! So, literally writers are the backbone of fandoms, and I'll never shut up about it 🙂↕️🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
And omg, I can't wait for when we do see them again in the future !
Summary: Harry grants his colleague her birthday wish.
CW: Smut (MDNI -p in v sex, protected sex, riding, face riding (oral f!rec), clitoral stimulation, praise, talks of sex, dirty talk, whining, sex outside of workplace, workplace relationship, causal hookup, sub!harry), strong language used, nicknames (baby, darling, angel, love, pretty, sunshine, good boy/good girl, no y/n), fluff (banter)
Word Count: 5.2k
Pairing: Sunshine Harry x colleague!fem reader
Location: London, UK
POV: Harry’s, third person
💌 A/N: Part two is here!! 🥳 thank you sooo much for all the love on the first part! I’m trying to decide if we should do one more (explore the going back to the workplace/aftermath more? Let me know!!) Hope you enjoy it, so much fun to write! I absolutely adore their dynamic, hope you do too. ❤️
The morning light beamed through her sheer white curtains, Harry scrunched his face in agony. Slowly his eyes opened, the light rudely interrupting his sleep. As his vision began to focus, his heart started to beat faster as his green eyes landed on a peaceful sleeping woman. A small smile crept to his lips as he heard her softly breathing, mouth slightly open and eyes still closed. He watched her for a few seconds until his eyes drifted around the space. The morning sun lighting up her room revealed her wooden dresser scattered with gold and silver jewelry, a bouquet of fake sunflowers and a few novels that he never read before. His eyes took in the art on her walls, colorful and bright.
Just as Harry shifted, desperately needing the loo, he felt the woman next to him stir in her sleep. Her arm reached out and wrapped around Harry’s bare torso, pulling him down as she muttered something unconsciously in her slumber. He smirked as her head nuzzled against his collarbone, into the crook of his neck.
“Don’t go,” she mumbled, still dangerously asleep and incredibly honest.
“Love,” Harry called out softly, his palm cupping the back of her head gently. He felt her soft, silky hair — brushing the unruly strands out of her bare face. “My bladder is very angry at me,” he whispered into her hair. His hand ran down the small of her back, to the spot where her underwear had rested against her hip. He gave her a little squeeze, hoping it would help draw her from her unconsciousness. “Baby,” he tried again, a little loud.
“Hm?” She finally stirred, peaking her eyes open, slightly startled. “What happened?”
“You were trying to cement me to the bed,” Harry joked, slowly undoing his grasp on her. “Need to use the loo, angel. Think y’can let me go for just this one time?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Sorry,” she removed her arm and gently broke away from him. He watched her for a few seconds as she rubbed her eyes, all sleepy and confused. He leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead and whispered, “be right back,” before leaving the comfortable tangled sheets. Harry disappeared to the bathroom, did his business and came back after washing his hands.
When he walked through the doorframe, he saw his colleague sitting up in bed on her phone. The sweatpants he borrowed hung dangerously low on his hips, strings loose.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Morning,” she grumbled, setting her phone face down on her burgundy duvet. “How are you?” She asked, a cautious tone in her voice.
“Good, would’ve been better if you didn’t take all the covers last night.” He teased, a grin on his face. “Slept like a baby though.”
“Me too, we totally knocked out,” she yawned, stretching her arms over her head.
“Probably bored of all my nonsense about how breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” He recalled, stepping into her bedroom more.
“I just don’t understand why you need to eat yogurt everyday, Harry.”
“Well, you’re not eating it.” He shot back cheekily, “there’s something called preferences, love.”
That earned him an eye roll. He accepted it, joining her back on the bed.
“S’alright, no yogurt today. How about eggs? I can make a mean scramble or fried is my specialty.”
“Oh,” she nodded, pulling him close. “Fried sounds delicious.”
“With buttery toast?” He suggested.
“Yes, and coffee,” she added.
“Yes, but needs to be black.”
“Black coffee? Harry, are you okay?” She argued. “That’s disgusting.”
“I would say mature but sure, disgusting if you haven’t developed your palate.”
“Oh God,” she rolled her eyes again.
“You keep doing that,” Harry called out.
“Doing what?” She asked, a small smirk on her face.
“Y’ know what you’re doing,” Harry smirked back.
“Hm, don’t really recall doing anything.”
“Oh, yeah?” He scoffed, “typical.”
“Typical?” She laughed, “what on earth does that mean?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head with a dimpled grin. “Alright, team beans or no beans? You already know my take.”
“Make the beans, Harry.”
“Good girl,” he said cheerfully, satisfied with her answer. He leaned forward, pecking her lips. “Care to join me? Monitor and analyze my chef skills? It’s an important mating skill to have.” Harry teased, fully smiling now. His cheeks hurt but he was happy, so happy.
“Alright, sunshine. I suppose I can be convinced to get out of bed so you don’t burn my flat down.”
“Oh, I’m offended.” Harry placed his hand on his heart, shaking his head. “Thought you knew me better, love.”
“Harry, you eat yogurt everyday for breakfast.”
“Fair enough,” he outstretched his hand as he rose from the bed. “Come on,” he half demanded. “Could use a sous chef.”
As the pair entered the living-room, Harry let his eyes wander a bit before following her to the small kitchenette area. “Right so, eggs, beans, toast?”
“Yes, chef.”
“Oh,” Harry coo’d. “I like the sound of that.”
“‘Course you would,” she laughed, pulling out the eggs from the fridge. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
Harry moved around the kitchen, opening cabinets carefully to find what he needed. He grabbed a skillet pan that was tucked away and started the fire. They fell into a comfortable quiet, focusing on their own individual task while working together.
“Sunshine, huh?” Harry asked, breaking the silence. He was curious about the little nickname she mumbled to him in defense. He could guess why she said it but wanted to hear it from her lips. The eggs sizzled on the pan as his colleague tried to school her reaction.
“Oh, that… I just — well,” she let out a sigh. “You always seem so happy and bright, you’re warm to everyone like sunshine so… it’s fitting.” She explained, keeping her gaze away from him as she busied herself with scooping the coffee grounds into the pourover cup.
“’m not warm to everyone,” he argued. “The new intern is an absolute bloke,” Harry said, pointing the spatula in her direction. “And I’m certainly not always happy,” he admitted, over exaggerating as he turned the fire off, the eggs solidified in the pan.
“I’ve never seen you unhappy.”
“Well, that’s because ’m very good at masking it,” Harry regrettably argued back, wishing the words didn’t flow out of his mouth so honestly. The space felt a little too quiet as he moved the eggs from the pan to two matching decorative plates.
“You don’t have to do that around me,” Harry m’s eyes snapped towards her as she reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, halting his movements.
Harry smiled, it was small but genuine. “Okay,” he said simply. “You’ll get all the unsavory parts too, like that burnt toast,” he compared, eyeing the well done toast that popped up from the toaster oven.
“Good thing I don’t mind a little rough around the edges,” she said, taking a step back to watch him. He let her stare at him without mention for a few seconds before he spoke up again.
“Sous chef, we have a problem — we forgot the beans,” Harry noted, pointing to the unopened can sitting on top of the counter. Harry often used humor to cope, ease the tension and make everyone feel a bit more comfortable. It was his superpower almost except, great superpower came with responsibility and expectation.
So, yeah… He masked a little, it was easier being the fun, charming, go lucky guy then the one who has to stick to a routine and drowns in loneliness. If only she knew how much the last twelve hours had such an effect on him. Harry had never genuinely been this happy, not with anyone but her. She made it feel easy, warm and welcoming even when she hesitated and questioned him.
“Toast and eggs are enough,” she shrugged with a small smile. He watched as she did the pour over, sticking to his request and add no cream or sugar. Harry carried the plates of buttered toast and eggs her small table and sat down next to her.
“So, what are the plans today other than proper birthday sex?” He asked, not shying away from the idea of them being intimate together.
She must’ve been shy because she nearly choked on her coffee, Harry noticed that.
“Careful, darling.” He mumbled, getting her a napkin before taking a bite out of his bread.
“Are you… staying after that?”
“After what?” Harry asked, “the sex?”
“Yeah, I just figure you’d probably want some of your weekend to yourself.”
“Nope,” Harry popped the ‘p’, “I’m all yours, if you’ll have me that is.”
He earned a smile from her, he watched as her shoulders dropped and she began to properly eat.
“This is good,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
“Good,” Harry’s smile spreading wider as he watched her fill her tummy. “You’ll need the carbs,” he hinted, being a bit suggestive.
Harry and his partner ate in the morning calmly, indulging in conversation about themselves outside of work. Harry easily took control of the conversation, allowing it to flow smoothly.
“Ok, so what country is your must see?” Harry asked, sipping on his now cold black coffee. “If you were stuck, had to live there forever and only could pick one?” Harry asked, genuinely picking her brain.
“Oh,” Harry watched as she thought for a few seconds, pondering the question. He noticed how her lip pouted as she thought about her answer, the slight shift in her posture and the way her eyes looked up towards her ceiling. “Maybe….”
“Maybe? No, you gotta be more sure than that love.” Harry teased, smiling at her.
“Okay, okay. I would love to live in a small, tiny village in Italy. It would be warm and sunny, quiet and comfortable. Lots of fresh pasta and yummy pastries,” Harry nodded, listening to her as she spoke. “I don’t know, I think I’d just want a quiet life. What about you?”
“That’s a good answer until you think about learning Italian,” Harry posed, he tapped his fingers against his stubble, thinking for a second. “I would pick somewhere with a beach,” he said, “Jamaica!” He clapped his hands. “Definitely Jamaica,” Harry added.
“I could see you there,” she smiled, it was the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
“Yeah?” He smirked, “I’d have to come visit you in Italy. Invade your tiny village,” he joked, smiling back at her.
There was a few seconds of quiet, Harry let them sit. He pondered the important questions, questions regarding relationships, religion and sex. He was very curious but didn’t want to over step.
“Tell me what you like,” he demanded, his green eyes boring into her own.
“What do you mean?” She asked, “we just spent the whole morning—,” Harry smirked, a chuckle erupted deep from his core.
“No, darling. I’m talking about sex wise,” Harry clarified. “Tell me what you like during sex,” he asked more firmly but not unkindly. He was deeply curious and equally interested because he didn’t want to just satisfy her — he wanted to transcend her.
“Oh, uhm…” He loved the way her cheek heated up, putting on a little innocent act right in front of him. “I like… a lot of dirty talk,” she started, her gaze falling to her speckled table.
“Okay, dirty talk. I like that too,” he agreed. “What else?”
“I mean, last night…” she shifted in her seat, he wondered if she was squeezing her thighs together? Feeling all achy like he was starting too. “When you gave me head, it was really good — felt really good.” Harry smirked, licking his lips as he remembered her taste.
“I’m not shy when it comes to eating pussy, it’s one of my favorite things.” Harry said proudly, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “What else? Do y’like rough sex? Slow? Hard?” He threw out some words, gauging her reaction.
“I like… a mix of everything , rough and slow, faster and hard.”
“I can do that, I can do whatever y’like.” Harry smirked, “Do you like being more submissive or more dominant?” Harry asked carefully, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Oh, I — I guess, I’m not really sure. I don’t mind either,” she shrugged, biting her lip.
“Yeah?” Harry slowly stood up, pushing his chair back as he rounded the table to her side. “I really, really like being submissive,” he started, crouching over the back of her chair. “You telling me what to do makes me really, really fucking hard.”
“Yeah?” She questioned, her voice a little more breathless.
“Or, we could switch.” Harry suggested in her ear, his lips brushing against the curve.
“Switch?” She questioned, keeping her body so still for him.
“Mmhm,” he mumbled as he pressed a soft kiss against the side of her neck. “I’ll fuck you whatever way you’d like but you have to listen to me, be a good girl for daddy.” He let his fingers trail up the side of her arms, past her forearm and to her collarbone. “What do y’think, angel?”
The question was loaded, he was intrigued by what her answer would be. When she began to stutter out an answer, he listened.
“I — I don’t know,” she tried.
“No, baby. You know,” Harry encouraged her, his fingers reaching out to feel the smooth, cool speckled table. “I could bend you this table, fuck you senselessly with your hands behind your back…” he let the image settle, his voice like honey. “Or we could go to your sofa, you could ride my dick as I suck on your pretty breasts?”
Fuck, he was so hard but he cared more about her than himself. Harry pulled her chair out slightly, crouching down in front of her. He found her beautiful eyes, his softening when he looked up at her. The energy had shifted, after all that sexual tension and anticipation, he’d be blessed to have her again — to worship her.
“Come on, baby. Don’t keep me waiting down here on my knees,” Harry pleaded out, the whine in his voice had returned. “Are you gonna make me beg?” He asked a second later.
“I wanna ride you, can I, please?” She asked, choosing exactly how he’d picture her at his office desk too many times to count.
“Yes, baby. Of course you can,” Harry let his hands fall to her thighs, squeeze gently as his palms slipped under her oversized shirt. “So polite to ask, think you deserve a little reward. Can I eat this pretty pussy first? Please, baby. I’ve been thinking about it all morning,” His fingers brushed against her panties, just where a patch of hair rested under the cotton fabric.
“Please, Harry. I love your mouth,” she beamed out, lifting her hips to take off her underwear. Harry slid them down her ankles, off and forgotten. “Do — do you want to do it here or on the sofa?” Her nervous voice asked, abusing her bottom lip.
“Let’s go to the sofa, want my girl comfortable.”
As they maneuvered over to her green, plush sofa — Harry took it upon himself to lay across it. “Wanna ride my face, baby? Take what’s yours, I’m all yours.”
He watched her hesitate for a second before a flash of hunger swept over her eyes. “Is it okay?” She asked, stepping an inch closer to Harry’s laid out position.
“Hundred percent okay with me, baby.” He thought for a second, wondering which safety method would be best for her to utilize. “How about we try a tapping method if anything is ever too much?”
“Tapping method?” She questioned.
“Yeah angel,” Harry started to explain, “if we tap three times, we immediately stop and do a check in, see where we are at and if we want to continue, does that sound okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“And you can always say stop or ask if we can take a pause, anything my love, always want you comfortable.” Harry encouraged, “I’ll never do anything you don’t want, baby.”
“Same goes for you, Harry. I want you to enjoy it too,” she smiled as she leaned down and pecked his lips.
“I enjoy you very much, baby.” He rubbed some gentle circles on her thigh, patting his chest. “Take a seat, you won't hurt me, promise.”
“Okay,” she said a little breathless but cautiously moved over Harry, positioning herself over his mouth. Harry could look up and see her face, a perfect position for him. “Use the arm rest for leverage so you don’t get so tired, love.” Harry knew a thing or two about sex. He hadn’t had loads of partners but did his research and educated himself to know a little (or a lot) about how to make a person feel comfortable. He prided himself on safety inside and outside the bedroom. He wanted to create a safe place where the person he talked to, especially a partner, could fully enjoy themselves without judgment and that’s exactly what he planned on doing.
With her thighs settled around his head, not too tight and only hovering over him — his hands wrapped around her backside. “You’re sure this is okay?” She asked again, looking down at him.
“Yes, darling.” He gave her one last reassuring look, nodding his head in agreement. “Look at this pretty pussy,” Harry let one of his hands spread across the front of her navel, just by the small patch of hair that décorated her pubic area. His thumb rubbed against her coarse hair, eyeing her reaction. “Can I play with you, baby? Look so pretty and sweet,” he groaned out, shifting down a little so his face was directly in her pathway.
“Please, Harry. I’m all achy,” she admitted, still tentatively hesitant. Harry heard enough, eager to please since he got her consent. He used his hand on her backside to encourage her down onto his mouth. The first contact was all wet and warm, utterly intoxicating as he could smell and taste her arousal on her skin. His tongue flattened against her, flush against her clitoris as he began to flick the tip of his tongue for some friction.
As he heard a soft gasp echo through the room, it only spurred him on. The way her hips started to involuntarily move, desperately cautious but entirely needy — he didn’t know how to encourage her more than motorboating his face against her slick, achy vulva.
“Give it to me,” he begged, softly moaning out as his lips and nose were flush against her. He nudged his pointed nose against her wet arousal, breathing her in. “Shit baby, never gonna get enough.” He whined, wrapped his lips around her clitoris.
“Har— Harry,” she moaned out, grinding her hips against his mouth and nose. “Feels so good, baby. Don’t stop, please.”
“Never,” he muttered as she became more comfortable, dropping her hips a little and fully sitting down on her seat. “Mmmmhm,” Harry moaned out under her, fully enjoying the tangy, sweet taste of her arousal soaked up on his tongue. He didn’t want to waste any of it, too greedy to let any of her wetness go to waste.
“Oh fuck. you’re tongue is so, so good,” she moaned out. The arm rest creaked under her weight as she shifted tilting her pelvis out as she looked back over her shoulder at his pelvic area. “You like this, hm?” She questioned with a quiet confidence.
Harry was hard as a rock through his borrow sweatpants, all the blood flowing down to his shaft as she moaned out above him. Harry felt her hand reach back, spread across his tummy before her palm made contact with his clothed hardness. His hips jolted by the sudden friction.
“Ohh,” he moaned against her, it wasn’t even the feeling alone but the combination of her riding his face and taking initiative to touch him coursed through his veins like hot lava. Harry took the opportunity to push her down onto him more, munching away at her clit, swirling his tongue along her entrance— not wasting a drop.
“Baby, baby,” she moaned, “jus’ wait please,” Harry instantly stopped the moment her voice laced with hesitation.
“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” His tone was serious, extremely alert and tentative to her halt.
“No, no baby,” she eased off his face, placing her foot on the floor to stand properly. “I just didn’t want to cum yet, I wanna try to orgasm with you,” she explained. Harry, who was propped up on his elbow instantly relaxed a fraction, his dimpled smile returning to his face.
“Jesus Christ love,” Harry placed his hand over his heart. “You worried me there for a second,” Harry regained his composure the second his partner leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Promise, everything is good. I just need to grab a condom,” she was gone and back seconds later. “Okay,” Harry watched her as she let out a breath, the metallic foil resting between her two fingers. “So uhm, are you okay… if I put it on?”
“Yeah, ‘course baby.” Harry sat up a little, tilting his hips enough to ease his borrowed sweatpants off of his frame. He was still semi-hard but a little flaccid from the loss of contact and worry that coursed through him at once. “Protection is always best, want us safe.”
Harry knew it would feel better without, not just for him but for her especially. He also knew the risks involved. He couldn’t possibly put her in harm's way or have an accidental pregnancy. But God, if he got the chance in the future with enough communication and consent, he’d easily take her raw. Before his brain could fantasize about that scenario, he heard the sound of the condom wrapper rip open. His hand instinctively went down to his shaft, pumping himself without shame. He easily got fully hard, the look of his colleague watching him curiously was enough to get him fully aroused. Not to mention, the taste of her still on his tongue and her scent that stayed on his face, he was practically in heaven of sorts.
“Okay, ready.” Harry said softly, letting her ease the condom down his shaft.
“I brought a little lube if that’s okay too,” she said, showing the clear, small body in her hand.
“Of course, want you most comfortable. Do y’have any toys?” Harry asked, half curious if she was into those types of things.
“Uh,” she thought for a second, “I just have a rose toy,” Harry nodded, offering a shrug. “Maybe we can use that next time,” he hoped he wasn’t being too forward by insinuating there was going to be a next time. Harry wanted to get to know her outside of sex too but he figured that if it was one time, there might be a second. Harry gave her a small smile, his hand trailing up and down the outside of her thigh.
“Come on,” Harry smirked, “get comfortable,” he mumbled as she straddled him once again, his waist this time. “Go as slow as y’want and if anything feels wrong, we’ll stop immediately.” He promised, half sitting up against some flattened throw pillows.
“Okay,” she smiled, biting her lip as she lowered her thighs so they were touching. He could see some nerves run through her face as he gently touched her thighs, encouraging her to settle completely.
“Hey,” he coo’d. “Are you okay? You can always change your mind, love. I won’t be upset at all,” Harry promised, serious as ever. His hand went to her chin, giving her a small smile.
“I’m okay, just a little nervous.”
“I’m nervous too,” he let out a breath, “let’s just go slow.”
“Okay,” she whispered into the air, nodding her head.
“Kissy?” He asked, his eyes adoring her own. She looked so gorgeous up close, no pretty… extremely, extra pretty. When their lips collided, he started slow — letting her lead. One hand stayed on her thigh and the other went to the crook of her neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue danced around her mouth, mixing their saliva before nipping at her bottom lip. “Mm, taste so good,” he whispered against her lips.
As they continued to kiss, his hand traveled down her chest, cupping her breast. He heard her moan softly, barely audible as his thumb brushed against the hardening nipple. Her hips began to rotate slowly as their lips stayed connected, the friction felt so intoxicating that Harry gripped her hip to encourage her to continue.
As her vulva and clitoris brushed against his shaft, Harry felt the air shift a little, the tension building close to penetration. “Oh, pretty girl,” Harry broke the kiss, “feel so perfect like this.”
“Yeah?” She moaned out, focusing her attention a little on her hip movements, the friction creating a soft wet sound that filled the air. “God, I need you inside me.”
“Yeah, baby? You need me?” Harry let his hands fall to her hips, his lips attached to her neck. He pressed an open-mouth kiss against her before nipping at her ear. “Take it, baby. It’s yours, all yours.”
They maneuvered a little, her hips rising to properly sink down on him. Harry grabbed the lube off the table and opened the cap. “Is that a good amount?” He asked, the clear liquid glossing over the top of the condom.
“Yes, think that should be good. We can always add more,” she mumbled before positioning herself to sink down onto his shaft. They had all the time in the world but god, this moment felt like ages. Harry wanted her to be the most comfortable and he understood that taking someone new for the first time could be an adjustment at first, especially since he was girthy.
“Go slow and breathe through it,” Harry reminded her as she slowly sunk down onto his cock. They both let out an audible gasp simultaneously. Harry kept his hands on her hips for support. “Fuck,” he cursed out as she took him fully. “H— how are you, good?” He checked, his cock throbbing already from the snug feeling.
“So good, you’re so big…”
“Big good or big… uncomfortable?” Harry dared to ask.
“No, like a good big… a good… stretch,” she giggled a little, “that’s such a funny word.”
Harry laughed along with her, “it’s definitely a little funny, I’m glad you’re feeling good baby.” Harry rubbed her thighs and the curve of her back with his thumb. “Remember, you can always tap out if you need,” he reminded her. Harry let his eyes fall over her breast, the way her stomach bunched up a little and her thighs wrapped around him. He smirked at her position, she looked so beautiful but he knew it was probably vulnerable for her — it was vulnerable for the both of them.
“I’m gonna move a little,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, her chest properly in his face as she shifted her position up to bounce on his cock slowly. “Oh shit,” she mumbled against his shoulder, Harry held her hips tighter — letting her control the pace.
“Oh, baby.” His eyes closed for a second as her hips rotated and she bounced — finding her rhythm. Harry’s lips pressed against her skin as his hands supported her, taking some of her weight. He smothered her with hot, open mouth kisses along her sternum and the curve of her breast before enclosing his mouth around her nipple. He watched her face, pure ecstasy as pleasure coursed through them both.
“Fuck, Har — Harry, it’s so good, your cock feels so good.” Her voice was thick like honey but sweet and warm.
“Yeah, baby? Feels so good for me too, it’s all yours baby, made for you.” Harry groaned out against her chest. As her pace increased, her breathing coming in more erratic, Harry began to thrust up — meeting her. “Pretty girl, fucking me so well,” Harry moaned, not holding back the amount of pleasure and adoration coursing through him. His eyes dropped to where they were connected, the picture only spurred him on.
“Use me baby,” he encouraged as he laid down more against the pillows. Her hand braced against his chest, taut against the palm of her hands as she rode him with ease. The room filled the sounds of their moans and shared breathing, beckoning on to one shared common goal.
Harry’s hand stayed on her hips as she continued at a steady pace. He tilted his pelvis up, his pubic area creating an addicting friction against her clit. “Oh Harry!” She moaned out, loudly.
“Jus’ like that baby,” Harry groaned, feeling a warm bubble build in his tummy.
“Oh, Harry, fuck me!” Her voice raised, coming out needy as ever. Harry took the opportunity to fully thrust up into her, angling his hips with firm precision.
“Good boy,” she praised, which caused Harry to curse out and nearly cum right there and then. He drove harder, feeling her beginning to clench around him.
“Oh fuck, say it again please,” he moaned out, his grip tightening.
“Such a good boy, sunshine.” She dragged out and moaned loudly. Her hands gripping his chest as her arousal sounded throughout the intimate space. Harry leaned up completely and kissed her hard, dominating her mouth for a few seconds before he pulled away to focus on his movements.
“I’m close, baby. So close,” she murmured, so focused that she looked even prettier.
“I know baby, I can feel you, you’re s’tight, squeeze me.” His voice was thick with desire, his accent more pronounced. Harry's two fingers reached between them and gently rubbed her clit, apply sweet pressure.
He felt her take a big breath, her orgasm rocking through her so hard that she couldn’t even form words. She clenched around him, shaking and gripping his shoulders for support. She gasped into the crook of his neck, her breath warm against him. As she rode out her orgasm, Harry felt himself leak into the condom. He gripped her waist, holding her firm against him as he groaned out in pleasure. His voice was low and raspy, laced with utter surrender and exhaustion.
“Fuck,” he cursed, a grin appearing on his lips as she fully collapsed against him. “Utterly spent, hm?” He asked after a few seconds, kissing her shoulder. “You did such a good job, pretty girl.” He whispered praise into her ear, rubbing the small of her back gently.
“That was…” she paused, “the best birthday sex I’ve ever had, thank you.”
“Oh no, thank you.” Harry smirked, “that was also the best birthday sex I’ve ever had…” Harry chuckled, “think we almost should make it an annual thing,” he teased.
“Or bi annual,” she laughed.
“Oh, you’re right. Smart girl,” he grinned. “It would be bi annual if it was for us both.”
“When’s your birthday?” She asked curiously, her cheek resting against his chest. Harry smirked at the question, eager to answer.
“The first of February,” he answered, a smirk widening.
“Oh God, that’s ages away.”
“Proper,” he frowned, “think you can wait around for me?”
“‘Course, guess regular sex will do.” She pretended to be pout, a small smile spreading across her lips.
“Promise not to go boring on you, we can spice it up.”
“Oh yeah?” She whispered, a bit suggestive. “And how’d we do that?”
“I have my ways,” Harry smirked, “I’m in the business of keeping my customers satisfied.”
“Oh, so I’m a customer now?” She asked, cheekily.
“Far from it, love but I’ll do my best to always satisfy you.”
“I’m thoroughly satisfied, Harry. Thank you,” she beamed.
DIDN'T THINK IT COULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN ANY BETTER THAN PART 1 AND YET... IT DID !
I really, really, really, really enjoyed the beginning as a whole, so it's not part of my favorite scene because it would get too long, but I love how the morning started off. I enjoyed how comfortable they kind of are with each other basically despite not really knowing each other outside of work !
I enjoyed the banter between them, one thing about me is, I love when people in fanfics banter, if they have good banter, then that means good chemistry in my book 😉
I will say the beans part, ew gross, I know you're doing it the British way and my Chicana heart was breaking.... it's either the Mexican way or the highway cause just no, I won't stand for it. It's treason. (I'm totally kidding. Please don't take everything literally)
I enjoyed the bit of getting to know Harry a bit more, while he cooked breakfast, I think that's what was missing in part 1 and the fact you did it on this one, was perfectly done. I love how honest he is and was like willing to correct her assumption about him being sunshines and rainbows and how that's not the real him, it's more just a mask and her being like well you don't have to pretend with me. I think it made me feel more connected towards him and enjoyed the smut more.
I also liked the fact that they conversed and he had no problem taking the lead, as you established in the first part that she's not really good at starting up and continuing a conversation, but he's really good at it, so I enjoyed hoe easily he was able to get her comfortable enough to open up.
I also liked how easily you eased up into the tension and the smut that you didn't rush or skip into it, I like when a fic had a nice mix of banter and smut ! So kudos to the way you transitioned from easy talk, to tension so smoothly, like before I knew it the tension rose and it was amazing that it didn't feel glossed over to get straight into the smut ! Not a lot of people are able to do that, and you definitely did.
FAVORITE SCENES
“Good thing I don’t mind a little rough around the edges,” she said, taking a step back to watch him. He let her stare at him without mention for a few seconds before he spoke up again. – So true, who wants a picture-perfect polished man
So, yeah… He masked a little, it was easier being the fun, charming, go lucky guy then the one who has to stick to a routine and drowns in loneliness. If only she knew how much the last twelve hours had such an effect on him. Harry had never genuinely been this happy, not with anyone but her. She made it feel easy, warm and welcoming even when she hesitated and questioned him. – Well how sweet and romantic, and he's winning me over
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“No, baby. You know,” Harry encouraged her, his fingers reaching out to feel the smooth, cool speckled table. “I could bend you this table, fuck you senselessly with your hands behind your back…” he let the image settle, his voice like honey. “Or we could go to your sofa, you could ride my dick as I suck on your pretty breasts?” – Pardon? He just said that with his whole chest and not a trace of decorum, while food is in front of them !
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“And you can always say stop or ask if we can take a pause, anything my love, always want you comfortable.” Harry encouraged, “I’ll never do anything you don’t want, baby.” – God I'm a sucker for a gentleman, who is a consenting king, but also will be a filthy man during sex. Where are these men at?
“Okay,” she said a little breathless but cautiously moved over Harry, positioning herself over his mouth. Harry could look up and see her face, a perfect position for him. “Use the arm rest for leverage so you don’t get so tired, love.” Harry knew a thing or two about sex. He hadn’t had loads of partners but did his research and educated himself to know a little (or a lot) about how to make a person feel comfortable. He prided himself on safety inside and outside the bedroom. He wanted to create a safe place where the person he talked to, especially a partner, could fully enjoy themselves without judgment and that’s exactly what he planned on doing. – 🫠 I approve
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“I have my ways,” Harry smirked, “I’m in the business of keeping my customers satisfied.” – Hehe, is this a play on to his song 😏
Overall, the whole writing was my favorite, from top to bottom, and I loved the whole good boy part ! I really enjoyed the whole thing and the way he's so unapologetically a moaner. Yes, thank you ! We love a man that isn't afraid to show how good they're feeling when doing this kind of stuff !
I hope we see them again and maybe a bit more confidence towards the reader, and she ruins him, her submissive man, I just know it would be so yummy, and he would eat that up !
Summary: “Kissing and I hope they caught us, whether they like or not.” // As Harry’s girlfriend steps into the spotlight, Harry is cautious but unapologetic about his love for her.
CW: slight angst (negative fan reaction, implied hate, rumors/backlash) strong language used, nicknames (sweet girl, baby, babe, pretty girl, no y/n), fluff, kissing
Word Count: 3.5k
Pairing: Famous!Harry x girlfriend!fem reader
Location: UK / USA
POV: readers, third person
Harry pic from here!
💌 A/N: Hellooo gorgeous! This idea came to me while listening to Doja Cat’s “Agora Hill’s”! Fun fact — agora hill is hinted at the word ‘agoraphilia’—a psychological term and fetish for sexual arousal in public places or wide-open spaces. Hence the ‘show you off’ type of thing but this fanfic doesn’t dive into exclusively sexual content— Harry indeed wants to navigate his private relationship in the public eye! Even though it has to do with famous Harry/Harries, it’s all just fiction! Hope you like it! 💛
Relationships were never easy. Regular relationships were tough, full of ups and downs, sacrifices, complicated compromises, outside opinions and loads of effort. Even the best relationship had their problems and required quality time and care to sustain them.
Now, try multiplying that on a massive, global, public scale. Under the spotlight, opinions were made before they could even correct them. Harry gave her the rundown, explained how difficult and overwhelming the attention could be. Still, Harry’s girlfriend didn’t stray. She understood that his brand and the attention he got would always be a part of him but certainly not the only part. She began to date Harry late into his break and when he finished his fourth album, the conversation of whether they were serious or not came rather quickly.
“So, you’re 100% in?” Harry asked, giddy. “Because once we’re out there, it can get a bit mad.”
“I want you and this is a part of you. A very important part of you that I’m very excited to see and witness.” she explained gently. “I love you, all of you Harry.”
“I love you, sweet girl. So much.”
Being Harry’s partner came with perks — endless travel, so much love & care, an abundance of gifts — big and small, tons of yummy food from places they could only dream of. The thought of, “what the fans might think”, never occurred to her. Harry did his best to distance her from the spotlight for as long as he could. He created a bubble of security that he was able to maintain during his break. He would fill their time with private rose filled, bubble baths situated in a luxurious flat in Paris. With the warm evening sun decorated the walls, casting a perfect shadow of the Eiffel Tower against the limestone — it was protected.
He filled her days with so much positive energy, genuine amusement and joy that she was unaware of the quiet storm that followed.
No, she didn’t think about the endless scrutiny or backlash she faced after pictured with him. Never that, Harry maintained the bubble of protection well. And it worked for a while. He had one strict rule, not to have a look at Twitter or scroll through his comments on Instagram. He always said — “if something happens baby, I’ll be the first to tell you. Other than that, it’s just noise.”
That was at the beginning of their relationship after they were first spotted hand in hand. She still could remember the lecture Harry gave her a day before.
“When you’re out with me, strangers or fans might come up to us. No matter what, I’ll always protect you.” Harry explained, “most of the time, it’s harmless… a small interaction, a few minutes.”
As famous as he was, she wasn’t expecting anything less. Harry adored his fans and would make time for them whenever he could. It didn’t matter if he was running late to a meeting or stopped multiple times, he knew how important it was to them. Plus, it was equally as important to him, asking for their name, giving out a hug, it never bothered him. He handed his fanbase with so much love and care, it made sense why so many people adored him.
The first time they officially went out, a fan stopped Harry politely to talk. Harry’s girlfriend stepped to the side, watching the sweet interaction. The fan smiled and waved her hand, and she returned the gesture with a big smile. Just like anything else, Harry grabbed her hand before crossing the busy pavement — not much came of the three minute interaction, or so she had thought.
“You okay?” Harry checked in as they walked.
“Yeah, that was really sweet actually.” She grinned, “they just adore you.”
Later the same day Harry’s publicist, Hilary called. Harry excused himself but she could still hear the conversation faintly.
“Yeah, it’s personal. I mean, she’s my girlfriend but they don’t need all the nitty gritty details,” Harry explained into the phone. “Just keep it limited please,” Harry asked, politely.
Harry was desperate to keep his personal life private but he also made it clear — “I’ll never hide you baby, if you want to go out then we can go out. Whatever you're comfortable with,” he promised. What was tricky was the fine line between being seen with him and protecting their private moments.
Once Harry’s relationship news broke, everyone had a camera and was eager to get a shot of Harry, especially the paparazzi. Harry explained that they got paid extra for exclusive photos of him coupled up. Suddenly, it didn’t matter if it was a fan, the general public or paparazzi — if they were visible, they would be photographed. The bubble that Harry created for protection popped and the new dynamic created some unresolved tension.
The media conversation happened, then happened again once more photos were leaked. Public opinions on every little thing sparked like a wild fire on Harry’s social media — Twitter, TikTok and every other platform known to man.
“Just promise me you won’t look at it. They make up shit without even half about you or our relationship,” Harry firmly said one night in Berlin. The hotel was starting to feel suffocating, aware of all the watchful eyes as Harry geared up to promote his album. Their usual private, low profile dates were starting to feel like a public chastising, always found and photographed.
His girlfriend made sure to keep a straight face, not overly happily but not stone cold — just normal. Apparently that encouraged a great amount of backlash too.
“What are they saying now?” She dared to ask one night after Harry got news that more photos were leaked.
“Nothing,” Harry sniffled, tucking his phone away. “Nothing newsworthy,” he promised but curiosity sparked inside her again. ‘Don’t look at it, it’s best you don’t know’, the little voice in her head told her. She fought the urge by deleting most of her social media apps on her phone, a trick Harry taught her when the noise got too much.
When Harry’s tour started, Harry allowed her to choose her attendance level. He made it clear that he’d love to see her at his shows but understood if she needed a break. After the first show, it was like a drug — the thrill of watching him on stage was an addiction. It became easy to support Harry. She’d bond with his family and friends, invite her own, sing along to all of his lyrics and dance happily inside the private box far from the stage.
She thoroughly supported Harry, going to show after show. Away from the internet, she was curious about what fans were thinking or saying. It was only human nature but she didn’t dwell on it. For her, it wasn’t out of boredom or clinginess. She knew how grateful she was to be able to watch him perform each night.
“I’ll send a big wave up to you baby,” Harry promised, his sound assistant connecting his inner ears box to the back of his pants.
“Oh, actually Brad and I talked about going down to the pit after a few songs,” her voice came out confident as ever. Her eyes softened as Harry’s hard gaze landed on her. She could feel the protectiveness radiating off of him.
“The pit?” He questioned, a small concerned look flashed his features before he excused the sound assistant. He stepped closer, his hands reached out towards her, interlocking their fingers. “That might be a bit…” he was searching for words, not wanting to police her but give her a quiet warning. “Loud,” he said, figuratively and literally. When she offered him a small nod and reassuring smile, all he could say was — “have fun, stay hydrated and dance if you want,” before pecking her lips.
The pit was loud, louder than she ever expected. Fans screamed as Harry walked by and screamed again when he went away. Everyone shared a collective longing for her boyfriend, something that she admired deeply and never wanted to take away from him. She knew how hard he worked and deeply respected his talent. She deeply respected his fans and appreciated their dedication. They deserved to have so much fun, scream, cry, laugh and dance all together, if they wanted too. They made the experience enjoyable and entirely theirs.
For the first few songs, nobody really paid any mind. She danced alongside fans with Brad, having a great time. She sang all the lyrics to Harry’s songs and enjoyed watching him come alive on stage. It wasn’t until Harry took a small break, Brad was dragging her to a new spot when they got stopped.
“You’re Harry’s girlfriend!” A girl from a group of fans beamed excitedly with an outstretched finger.
“Yes, I am.” She smiled back, “Are you having fun?” She asked, wanting the conversation to stay light and directed away from her.
“So much fun!” The fans beamed together, “can we have a picture?” Another asked.
She thought about it for a second, looking at the small group of girls with their attention turned towards her. The outcome of a simple ‘yes’ versus a polite ‘no’ crossed her mind as she made her decision. “Oh, sure!” She settled, a smile spread across her face as someone snapped a quick photo of them with the stage shining bright in the background. “Have so much fun and enjoy the show!” She told them happily before Brad ushered her away.
“That’s went well,” was all Brad whispered in her ear before they started to dance again. The simple, pleasant interaction was forgotten as she watched her boyfriend perform.
Late that night Harry was fresh out of the shower, toweling his hair. The question came out light, curious and unaccusing at first.
“So, when you were in the pit did any fans interact with you?” He asked, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you a group of girls asked for a photo,” she replied quickly, taking another bite of the fruity candy that sat on her lap.
Harry didn’t say much at first, just nodded.
“And they were nice?” He questioned, a cautious tone carried through the air.
“Yeah, baby. They didn’t say anything mean,” she thought back to the interaction, replaying it in her mind. “Why?” She drew out, giving him a look.
“Were you… polite?” Harry sounded like he didn’t want to ask but needed to confirm.
“When am I never not polite, Harry?” She frowned, sitting up against the fluffed pillows more. “Why would you ask that?” She deadpanned, a warmth rising through her.
Harry rounded their shared bed, a sigh escaping his mouth before he could stop it. He no longer seemed curious, just dreadful like some news was coming that he didn’t want to share.
“I ask because my publicist left me a voicemail while I was in the shower followed by some urgent texts.”
She frowned, her eyebrows closing in as her face grew worrisome. “About what?”
“Some fans said you were… unsavory, to put it lightly.”
“What do you mean? I was nothing but nice,” she frowned, shaking her head as the interaction rolled through her mind again. “I was polite, Harry. I took the photo and told them to enjoy the show, it all lasted a literal minute,” she defended.
“Was there anything else? Any point during the show that maybe you were looking… unhappy?” Harry questioned, carefully. “Or maybe you said something a bit too loud that was supposed to be private?”
“What? No, never!” Her heart began to race, feeling utterly confused and equally tense. “I enjoyed it like anything else,” she crossed her arms. “What are they saying?” She asked, pointed.
Harry let out a sigh, his hand running over his face as he sat quietly.
“Harry?” She questioned, “you promised to tell me if something happened.” She reminded him, not wanting to pick a fight but hold him accountable.
“You’re right baby, I just —,” he sighed again. “Some fans just said some things on twitter that kinda made you look bad,” he said carefully.
“Like what?”
“Like jus’…petty stuff, probably out of jealousy or envy.” His lips formed a thin line as if he was thinking about how much to say.
“Okay, but like… what? Give me an example.”
“They said, “she didn’t even want to take the photo,” and how you seemed a bit upset that the person asked.”
“That wasn’t the case at all, I was just going through the whole situation. You know how it goes, I didn’t know if I should say yes or not.”
“I know baby, I’m sorry. I just — ,” he let his head fall, looking into his lap as he played with the hem of the damp towel. “There’s a lot of unkind things going around right now about you, about us and I can’t always be there to protect you.”
“You don’t have to be, Harry. I can handle it,” she breathed out, “I know what this was when I agreed to be your partner.”
“I know baby but still, it’s… it’s overbearing at times and I don’t want it to overwhelm you. That’s exactly why ‘m so strict about social media.”
“I won’t look at it,” she half promised, feeling a tinge in her chest. “The comments, the tweets.”
“No baby, I mean… think no social media at all for a few days, okay? Please, for me?”
“It’s that bad?” She frowned, “I can’t even go on my personals?”
“No, I’ll tell you when you can go back on.” Harry offered as if it was some type of compromise.
She scoffed, she couldn’t help it. A part of her knew he was only protecting her but it felt restrictive and she hated that feeling. Harry hated that feeling so, it felt extra apprehensive when he demanded it.
“I’m sorry,” Harry extended, placing his hand on her head gently. His lips came down to press a reassuring kiss on her head.
“No, it’s… it was bound to happen, right?” Her eyes dropped to the mattress, feeling even more exhausted than ever. “Think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” she instantly wanted to close off, forget the situation for a few hours.
“You sure? We can talk about it,” Harry offered.
She simply shook her head, not knowing how to tell him that it was overwhelming her.
“Ok,” Harry didn’t press, he allowed her to place her head against her pillows — back turned towards him. “I love you,” he whispered into the air as his hand stroked her hair, a calm gesture to help her sleep.
“I love you.”
The morning came unforgiving and insistent. The bright light shined through the curtains, waking her from her sleep. Harry’s side of the bed was cold, left empty with the memory of their argument last night.
“Harry?” She called out, wondering where he went too.
Like clockwork, he rounded the corridor. His pointer finger signaled in the air as he held his yellow phone case to his ear, “just a second,” he mouthed. She was used to this but Harry's expression told her everything she needed to know, the conversation wasn’t a normal schedule change or rehearsal suggestion but something more pointed.
She waited in bed, letting her head run through the possibility as Harry spoke into the phone, pacing the corridor.
“Yeah, yeah.” He said, “yeah, I got it.” He mumbled into the phone speaker. “Yeah, no worries.” He listened for a few more seconds before saying, “yeah, I think that’s good.” He nodded in agreement. “Alright, take care,” he replied before ending the call. His expression softened as he walked towards her.
“Good morning, how’d you sleep?” He asked, towering over her. His palm caressed her back in a soothing motion.
“Like I needed it,” she sighed, “who was that on the phone?”
“Hilary,” he started, his publicist. “She just wanted to go over everything, see if we can shift the narrative or simply… ignore it.”
“Ignore it?” She asked. Harry nodded, shrugging. He was too calm but she forced herself to remember that this wasn’t his first go around. He had a whole team for situations as such and he trusted the professionals, so she had to too.
“You know how you acted and other people probably witnessed it too. A few fans that want to stir something up just for the sake of it, don’t deserve the attention,” he explained, firmly. “You just keep being you and we just keep being us, unapologetic.” He added.
“And what’s the alternative?” She questioned. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, close to her legs.
“The alternative? Well, we could just showcase how adorably nice you are to the point where it’s sickening but that wouldn’t really be as authentic or fair. We don’t have to prove anything since you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But they believe I did,” she reminded, playing devil's advocate.
“Only a few,” his fingers laced between hers. “Enough to rock the boat but we’re strong,” he shrugged. “I’ll just do something incredibly distracting like go for a run in some horrendously short, little shorts and the rumors will dissipate.”
“Harry, you shouldn’t have to do that.” She fronted, shaking her head. She hated how self aware and selfless he was, willing to do anything to direct the negative attention away from her.
“No, I shouldn’t but I will,” he smiled, “the world will continue to go on, darling and we can’t just stop for every minor misunderstanding or rumor.”
The icky feeling in her stomach started to settle, reassured by his gentle words and multiple kisses. The days flowed together, Harry was busy with rehearsal, sound check then custom fittings and a bunch of other things she was still working to understand. Still, she did her best to be the most supportive girlfriend as they traveled from city to city.
When they arrived in New York for his group of shows, Harry did what he usually did — went out without security, ran across Manhattan, bought her flowers in the upper east side and met with fans when he was stopped. When he returned to their rented home, he handed her the bouquet of sunflowers and mentioned plans of a late dinner for their quality time, weekly date.
Dinner went and gone, their bellies full of rich spices and sweet desserts. Harry tugged her along, set on walking through the city. “Midnight stroll through Central Park?”
“Will it be okay?”
“Of course,” Harry shrugged. “Remember be in th—,” he started his gentle reminder that he whispered to her more times than he could count.
“‘Be in the moment and stay present with me’, I know.” She was still adjusting to being Harry Styles' girlfriend versus just Harry’s.
They walked slowly, there was no sense of rushing. The city was awake but quiet. The park was still lit up by lights and the city that surrounded it. Harry's thumb steadily rubbed against her hand, pulling her gently along. The quiet spoke for the both of them, comfortable in each other's presence.
“How you keeping up with everything?” Harry checked in.
“It’s been… an adjustment, the time difference, crowds, culture is much different from London,” she explained. “Feels more lively, I can tell fans are so excited that you’re back in America.”
Harry nodded, “seems like it, huh?” He wasn’t boasting, his fans were truly dedicated and delighted that he was in the city. He was so publicly embraced.
“How about you?” She asked, looking up towards his side profile as they continued to walk along the path.
“I’m pleasantly surprised by how well you are taking it all,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
“That doesn’t answer my questions!” His girlfriend rolled her eyes cheekily, shaking her head.
“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he replied simply, a private dimpled smile across his face. Harry suddenly stopped, closing the distance between them. His hands cupped her face, admiring her features. “my pretty girl,” he whispered in adoration. “You handle it all so well.” The little statement of praise made her belly flutter with butterflies. “You promise to tell me if it gets too much?”
“Promise,” and she did.
Before she could say anything else — they were kissing. Harry's eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips softly to her mouth. His kiss was tentative at first but deepened as she kissed him back, gripping onto the sides of his jacket. Harry opened his mouth, his tongue darting against hers as her skin flushed with desire. His palm ushered her closer, fitting her snug against his frame. She felt his face twist, deepening the angle as he moaned into her mouth. The sound brought her back to reality, worried their full blow makeout session in Central Park would end up on Deux Moi by the morning. Her brain was a bit more cautious now but Harry did his best to reassure her.
“Harry,” she pulled back, “wonder if someone sees?” She whispered quietly.
“Shhh,” he teased, his lips finding hers again. “I hope they caught us,” he muttered. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck as he whispered in her ear, his voice dropping an octave deeper.
“Whether they like it or not, I’ll show you off,” he smirked before sobering himself. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
R/N: Hehe, every time I see with words, Show You Off JB song starts playing in my head, so the title really just kept playing JB
CAN I JUST SAY ! THIS WAS AMAZING? You really wrote it as realistic as possible, quite literally made me feel sad for Harry and Reader a bit. Then, mostly for Harry because I mean, he 100% has to go through with this and deal with media and the over analysis, and not to mention a certain group !
I would honestly and I know I'm probably bad, but I would be so mad at Harry for like saying no social media until he thinks it was okay, I grew up with a controlling father and so that kind of came to surface when I read that and I would actually probably be even more mad than the reader and probably would be stubborn and argue with him lol !
I think this was really well written, the pace between it all and how easily the transitions felt when you kept moving from scene to scene.
I love how they never once pitted against each other or that she never grew in resentment, whether it be towards the fans that started that fake rumor, the invasion of privacy after she was pulled out of their bubble, or towards Harry for being who he is.
I especially enjoyed the ending ! Beautiful ending, love the makeout scene, Loved that he moaned and love that he isn't afraid to be out in the open like any normal couple, even if she was slightly !
No favorite scenes because it was all perfect ! 💕💕💕💕
Summary: Harry and his colleague have celebratory birthday sex.
CW: Smut (MDNI - oral f! rec, fingering, talks of sex, dirty talk, whining, pleading, sex outside of workplace, workplace relationship, causal hookup, aftercare, m!orgasm without stimulation, sub!harry), strong language used, nicknames (baby, darling, angel, love, pretty, doll, no y/n), fluff (banter)
Word Count: 5.4k
Pairing: Sunshine Harry x colleague!fem reader
Location: London, UK
POV: readers, third person
💌 A/N: Hi beautiful people! This one was really fun to write. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you again for all the birthday wishes! ❤️ Let me know what you think! P.S. — Part two? 😚
Birthday’s were always so strange for her. The direct attention on her for the day, friends reaching out and sending birthday messages that she hadn’t heard from them the better half of the year and of course, the celebratory, annual birthday cry. Whatever happened, birthdays were emotional and most of the time, didn’t go exactly how she planned. So, she simply stopped celebrating her birthday. No celebration meant no disappointment by making it some sort of special day. She went to work like normal. Not drawing any attention to herself throughout the morning and was grateful when nobody commented about the date. When lunch came around she made her usual routine lunch order, added a cookie for dessert. She sat in the same corner, facing the sunlight and began to eat her mundane turkey sandwich and sip on her Diet Coke as she checked her Instagram feed.
Everything was completely normal and routine, just how she liked it.
“Hey, I heard it’s your birthday today!” Harry, her friendly co-worker, grinned from ear to ear. He held up the line in the middle of the cafeteria. Harry was a colleague on her floor and did his best to make everyone feel welcomed. He was like sunshine, always warm and positive.
He’d been advocating for employees rights like extra time off, adequate wages and even staying the extra hour to help pick up slack wherever was needed. Overall, he was an extremely supportive worker and charming too.
The whole team loved him. Well, everyone except her, especially right now. Something about his charm just didn’t make sense to her. He was so positive and happy, all the time.
“Oh, thanks Harry.” She forced a smile, eyeing the line behind him.
“Oh, sorry.” He muttered to their other colleagues behind him, quickly pulling out his wallet to pay and grabbing his yogurt cup.
When Harry walked past her table, she figured she was safe. Turns out, he was grabbing a spoon and decided to sit next to the birthday girl, giving her all the unwanted attention.
“So, any birthday plans? Wait, how old do you turn today?” Harry asked cheerfully, genuinely curious.
“Uhm, I don’t really celebrate.” She shrugged, “I’m 28 now, well… I guess technically at 9:47pm.”
“You don’t celebrate?” Harry put his hand over his heart as if she said something offensive. “That’s a shame,” he said quietly, thinking for a moment. “Why don’t you celebrate? It’s your one day of the year.”
“Oh, no reason really. I just don’t really like the attention,” she took another bite of her sandwich. The silence fell between them, awkward as Harry began to eat beside her. The smell of his strawberries and granola filled the air.
“Attention is the best part,” he smirked. “What are y’going to do then?” He asked while he ate scoops of his vanilla yogurt.
“Oh, probably just… sit at home? Watch a movie?”
“Darling, that’s no way to celebrate your birthday.” He argued, shaking his head. “Let’s go out tonight,” he declared without any room for much discussion.
“Oh, I don’t think —,” she started, shaking her head.
“It’s no big deal, I want to. Besides, it’s Friday night and you deserve to go dancing.”
“Dancing? Like… at a club?” She swallowed, eyes wide.
“Yeah, that’s usually where dancing takes place,” he said in a matter-of- fact way. “I’ll send you the details,” he promised, standing abruptly. He hurriedly grabbed his half eaten yogurt. “Don’t you dare flake on me!” He half-yelled across the cafe.
The day went by fast and soon, the sun was setting on the horizon. Back at her shoebox flat, she stood in front of her mirror, tops scattered around her hardwood floor and her duvet. “Shit, I don’t have anything to wear,” she cursed to herself. Holding up an old mini black dress that wasn’t even hers and fit a bit odd, it was her only appropriate option. “Fuck it,” she accepted the defeat and shredded her clothes. “It’s just Harry,” she kept reminding herself.
Harry was the type of person that made everyone feel comfortable. Surely, he was only offering to take her dancing out of pity. While at work, she stuck to herself, answered questions when asked and never caused a scene. Harry was so outgoing and chatty, she recalled when their boss asked Harry to “rein it in,” while going off on a tangent during a company wide board meeting. He could carry the conversation, which was somewhat in her favor. She at least knew the night wouldn’t be boring with him around.
Just as she finished her hair and fixed up her lip combo, her phone dinged with a familiar text tone. Not once but twice.
Harry Styles
— Send me your address, we’ll go together.
— Don’t tell me you fell asleep.
“That would’ve been the easiest way out, hm?” She said to herself, glancing in the mirror before sending her address and a quick text back.
— I’m 28, not a grandma. Buzz 1B when you get here.
After about twenty minutes of contemplating on canceling, she heard the familiar alert of her door. She grabbed her small purse, shut the lights off and walked down the hall to meet Harry. Her heels clicked against the tile as she saw Harry’s tall figure standing outside. She watched as his eyes lit up the second he saw her. As she opened the door, Harry immediately went to her side.
“Fuck sakes, look at you,” Harry grinned. His green eyes scanned the length of her body under the blue night sky, seemingly mesmerized for a few seconds. “Sorry,” Harry corrected himself sheepishly. “You look great!” Harry’s smirk spread wide, making his dimples more pronounced. He held out his palm, offering his hand to her.
“You look… good too,” she complimented quickly in return.
God. Was it obvious how hot her skin was under his gaze?
She could’ve swore he was walking a bit slower to staring at her while they began to walk. She wasn’t used to male attention but despite what she thought, she definitely didn’t mind it from him. He made her feel sexy which felt good.
“Oh, don’t make my ego too big.” Harry smirked, tugging her hand gently as he led her down the busy street towards the station. “It’s not too far, just up on Camden High. Have y’ever heard of it? It’s called KOKO. One of my mates took me a few weeks back.”
“KOKO?” She pretends to retrieve some thoughts. “I don’t think so,” she bit her lip, suddenly feeling a bit out of place, there’s no way she’d know a central London club since she never left her flat for anything other than work and the shops.
And here she was on her birthday with her colleague, holding hands and going clubbing in a dress that barely fit her… but what could possibly go wrong?
“You’ll love it, promise. If it’s shit to you, we can go somewhere else.” Harry promised as they waited for the tube. On the cart, Harry stood directly in front of her as she sat down. She couldn’t help but wonder if his protective nature was just ingrained in him or if it was because of her. Throughout the ride, they made small talk about work and how annoying their boss was about minuscule tasks. Before she knew it, her hand was securely in Harry’s again, pulling her to her feet.
“This is us, love.” His hand moved to the small of her back, guiding her out of the busy London underground back to the pavement. “This way,” he said confidently as he walked. “You got your ID on you?”
“Of course,” she smiled as they arrived at a big, black mystery building with a growing queue. Partygoers stood outside, waiting for their ID to get checked and cover to be paid. When it was their turn, Harry swiftly paid for them both, whispering, “my treat,” before showing their ID’s to the bouncer.
The moment she walked through the double doors, the whole energy shifted. It was quiet but she could feel the bass rising from the floor through her body. Harry guided her with a strong grip on her hand. He pulled her through a pair of big black curtains and she was immediately met with a crowd of laid back individuals waiting for their drinks. As music danced around them, she was mesmerized.
“Want a drink before we head in?” Harry asked, pointing to the bar without releasing her hand.
“Uh,” she thought for a few seconds. A shot would definitely help loosen her up but she wasn’t sure where the night would take them. “Let’s skip it for now,” she half yelled over the loud noise that filled the room.
Harry continued to pull her along, guiding her through a busy hallway until they upped the stairs. “Just up here,” she heard him say as they passed by a group of intoxicated girls. As they climbed, a few men nodded at Harry as they rounded the corner. A large dance floor that stretched across the building came into view. The music was loud, bodies everywhere and the air was filled with a sweet, earthy scent that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but marjiuana.
Without much warning, Harry led her straight into the middle of the dance floor. The dim lights and shadows mixed with the lure of surrounding bodies made her feel so alive. She’d never been in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by so many strangers.
Harry kept her close, digging in his bag for two pairs of sunglasses. He leaned close to her, almost enough to touch lips. “Put these on, will help with the lights.” He pointed to the lasers and strobe lights beaming off the ceiling through the club scene. She felt a bit awkward as she put the generic black glasses over her face but she realized many people were wearing them as well. She could see Harry faintly grin as he started to move with the music. She stood still, watching him for a few seconds — absorbing the moment — analyzing his carefree nature.
“Dance!” Harry half yelled, grabbing her hands to suspend them in the air. “Just feel the music,” he pressed his body closer as she began to move to the techno music, her body was a bit awkward.
“This is crazy,” she tried to yell over the bass, feeling it a bit more. The energy radiated off them, Harry leaned close and whispered. “Yeah, there you go.” Their bodies began to mesh together, her dancing still semi-awkward but more cohesive with the large crowd. “Can I?” Harry’s hands hovered over her hips, cautiously waiting for her approval.
Without much thought, she brought her hands over his. A small smirk fell to her lips as she felt him gently applying pressure. Both their bodies began to flow together as the music changed to something more sensual but still upbeat.
“You’re doing great,” Harry whispered into her ear, his facial hair tickling her skin. “You look great,” she heard him say more firmly as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, half to be close and half out of practicality.
“This is my first time,” she explained, gesturing to the dance floor. “Being somewhere like this.”
“Consider your cherry popped then,” Harry replied cheekily, resting his head near her shoulder, breathing in her fruity scent. “Just let the vibe take you, whatever happens…. Just let it happen, if it feels good,” his hands slowly guided her to turn so, she could lean back against him. His fingers stayed glued to her hips.
The two of them together danced and got lost in the beat for a few songs. Harry leaned down and whispered against her ear, his stubble tickling against her skin once again.
“Happy birthday, angel.” His voice was slightly sweeter and an octane deeper than usual. She felt her cheeks heat up fast as they swayed together like they were the only two in the room. “Having fun?”
“So much, thank you for… this,” her lips brushing his ear as she spoke. “I never would’ve gone out if it wasn’t for you,” she said genuinely to which she earned a big grin and a gentle squeeze from his palms.
When the music changed again, Harry didn’t let her go. They danced through a few songs before Harry guided her to the bar downstairs. Slightly out of breath, sweaty, flushed and desperately needing a drink — Harry kept her close. “Would you like a drink? I think I might get something non-alcoholic.”
“Surprise me,” she smirked.
“Oh. My pleasure, birthday girl. What do you like?” She noticed how his gaze dropped to her lips for a second.
“Something… sweet, maybe with a little spicy kick to it but I’ll do non alcoholic too.”
She stepped to the side as Harry ordered and paid for them both. He returned with their drinks in hand. She carefully took hers, tasting it instantly desperate to quench her thirst.
“Mmm,” she moaned, nodding in approval.
“Good?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Want to head back to the dance floor?” Harry asked. With a quick nod, Harry led them back towards the floor but kept them on the edge near the entrance. It was easier for them to conversate but they still had to lean in pretty close to understand each other. Harry stepped in front of her, forcing her attention towards him.
“Any birthday wishes for 28?” He asked, his voice sounded like honey as he sipped on his drink.
“Maybe… start actually doing more? I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Been a bit more closed off lately and tonight has shown me so much.”
“That’s the hard part, isn’t it? Living when you’ve just been surviving.” Harry said close to her ear.
“You deserve to be celebrated everyday, not just today.” Harry exclaimed, putting his free hand in the small of her back. “I’m really glad you came out tonight.”
“I’m glad too.”
Harry’s eyes fell to her lips again as he licked his own. “Any other big dreams for your 28th?” She mimicked his gaze.
Fuck, how bad would it be to makeout with my colleague?
“Maybe… Not wanting this night to end,” she tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, desperately needing to stop herself from kissing him.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry smirked. His hand pressed more into her back, closing the distance.
His hand left her side, cupping the swell of her cheek. “I know we probably shouldn’t—,” He started but their conversation was interrupted as the crowd roared behind them.
Harry laughed and looked towards the sea of strangers before his eyes landed back on her. He did a simple head shake and smirked, “let’s get back in there, can't have you miss any of the fun.” Harry held her hand snug as he led her back near the middle of the dance floor.
In the middle of the strobe lights and groups of sweaty strangers, Harry tugged her close and grinded his pelvic area against her own. The atmosphere was hot, dirty and intimately theirs.
“Fuck, I’m really trying to be good, angel.” He whispered.
“Yeah?” She whispered back, a surge of confidence and sexual tension flowing through her. “Wonder if I want you a little naughty?” She asked in his ear, letting her lips slowly press against the curve of his neck. Through the bass, countless of stranger and uptempo music — she could hear his whimper.
“Is that a birthday wish?” Harry pulled back a little, his grasp on her waist turning a bit more possessive. “Because I’ll gladly give you whatever you want, love.”
“Whatever I want?” She dared to ask, thinking of a few things she’d love for him to do to her. Most of them invoked him on his knees, a sight she wished to see. “Walk me back to mines?” She suggested, already dragging him out of the crowd of people.
Sex was usual out of love than lust for her but Harry’s words of, “let loose,” and “you’re in your twenties, this is the time to have fun,” clouded her mind. Plus, Harry’s face card and muscular body was the perfect way to end the night. She wasn’t shy to talk about sex with friends but asking for it? Well, that felt greedy and selfish. She wasn’t the type to do hook ups but again, it was her birthday and through her twenty eight years — she’s never had birthday sex.
While they rode the tube back, she finally told him her last birthday wish.
“Okay, don’t laugh. Can I say something?”
“‘Course love, this is a safe space. Tell me anything,” harry promised, rubbing the back of her hand.
“I have one more birthday wish.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I’ve never… “ she started, Harry’s eyes went wide for a second.
“Oh, love. Don’t tell me you never had cake today.”
“No, no,” she laughed, a blush filling her cheeks. “Not that.” She let out a sigh, closing her eyes before cupping her hand, telling Harry to lean in a bit closer to whisper. “I’ve never had birthday sex and I’m not saying it has to be you but I felt like there was a little vibe between us but if you’re uncomfortable then it’s okay —,” she started to ramble with her eyes closed, not able to look at Harry. “And if you go to HR, can you please not tell them that I ask—,” he finally cut her off, his hand resting against her skin as he stole a quick kiss from her lips.
“Sorry, usually I’d ask first but you wouldn’t stop rambling.” He mumbled against her delicate lips that formed a smile under his own. “I’d love to fulfill that wish for you and for fucks sakes,” he paused. “I was hoping you would ask. Now, can I kiss you properly?”
Starstuck, she smiled wide and barely nodded her head before his pink, plush lips were on hers again. The kiss was soft and gentle as if she was the most delicate woman waiting to fall apart. When the intercom announced her stop, reality began to creep in. Harry led her off the cart and back up to the pavement towards hers.
“This isn’t… weird, right?”
“Not if you don’t make it weird,” Harry shrugged, nonchalantly. “Listen, we’re both consenting adults that are coherent and equally enthusiastic… Why shouldn’t we end your birthday on a good note?” Harry explained as they turned the corner. “It can be whatever you want it to be, it’s your wish but know that I’m happily willing to grant it.”
She nearly fumbled her keys as they arrived back at her flat, Harry couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He held her waist, his taller slender figure over hers.
“This is my humble abode,” she announced as she opened the front door. “Make yourself at home.” She was glad she tied up her space the day before.
“It’s cute but I’m not here to judge your furniture,” Harry told her firmly but not unkind. He slowly started to shrug off his jacket, closing the space between them. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
“Would you like some water?” She blurted out as soon as she could feel the temperature of his body near hers. “I have tap or spark—,” she offered
“I’m quite fine,” he mumbled as he leaned down and kissed her shoulder blade.
“Okay, if you change your mind —,” she started but Harry spoke up again.
“It’s okay to be nervous, I’m nervous too.” Harry took a small step back, “do you want to have sex? Because I don’t want to do anything y’ aren’t comfortable with,” He said.
“No,” she sighed, “I mean, yes. I do want to have sex with you. I’m just nervous and worried that it will be weird when we go back to the office…”
There, the elephant was finally out, she thought.
“I promise not to make it weird. Whatever happens here,” he gestures to this space. “Stays here unless y’ tell me otherwise. Again, we two consenting adults who..”
“Who want to have fun and hook up,” she finished the sentence for him.
“Correct.” Harry smirked, closing the gap between them. He took a small peak at his wrist watch on his forearm. “We have a tight schedule to make if you wanna cum before midnight.” Harry joked, cheekily.
Her face reddened but she reached up and kissed his lips without hesitation. She was tired of waiting, acting all shy when all she felt was greed and lust for Harry.
“Want to make you feel s’good,” Harry muttered against her lips. Her brain began to fog up with all the ways he could make her cum, desperately needing a release.
“Please, Harry.” She begged, skimming the clothed muscles along his back to the bottom hem of his shirt. “I want your month,” she blurted out, overcome with desire.
“Yeah? Pretty girl wants my mouth, hm?” Harry asked, looking past her shoulder. He nodded his head in the direction of her bed. “Let’s go mess up those sheets.” Harry led her over, his mouth on her neck as they stumbled to her bedroom. “Bet y’taste so fucking good, so sweet.” She gasped softly when Harry picked her up by her thighs suddenly and sat her on the edge of her mattress. His fingers went to his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” she whispered more to herself. Apparently sunshine worked out and had loads of tattoos.
“Thank you baby but you’re fucking stunning.”
She couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence run through her, eagerly needing his touch. The both of them fumbled with the zipper of her dress, working it down her back and off her shoulders. She was glad she wore a cute matching set in her favorite color, which Harry seemed pleased about too.
“Bloody hell,” he eased to his knees, “lift your hips, angel.” He worked her out of her dress, easily forgotten as his green eyes fell to her flushed skin. “What a treat f’me, darling. Look at you,” Harry smirked, “Can I taste you, baby?”
“Please, Harry.”
Harry was far from timid while he leaned in and took a sniff of her barely clothed, decorated in lace vulva. “Fucking hell, you smell like a dream baby.” His tongue flattened against the lace, tasting the fabric and the arousal that seeped through. Harry whimpered out, closing his eyes in pleasure as he tasted her. His hands held her thighs apart, offering a soothing firm touch to keep her from closing her thighs.
“Fuck,” she cursed and let out a soft moan, as Harry nudged his pointed nose against her.
“Need these off,” before she knew it, the delicate lace was ripped away from her skin and utterly ruined. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones.” He promised sweetly, wasting no time to ease his head between her thighs again.
Harry’s tattoo arms rested against her thighs, holding them open. She tried to study the delicate ink etched into his skin, partly curious and partially to soothe her nerves but the moment his tongue was on her, she couldn’t focus on anything else but pleasure.
“Ooh,” she moaned out. Her hand clasped around her mouth.
Harry was easily better than any man she'd ever been with. His tongue was so skilled with the right amount of pressure and attention to her clit, she figured she orgasm multiple times way before midnight ended. His eyes found hers as he began to suck down on her clit, his moans sending an extra vibration through her. Her hand went to his thick, disheveled hair tugging it for leverage as she grinded her hips on his handsome face.
“Fuck, need to hear you, please.” He begged, his voice turning into a whiny plea. “Please, baby please.”
“Oh, Harry.” She cried out, squeezing her thighs uncontrollably around him. Her body started to heat as the small bubble of warmth formed deep in her abdomen. “Feels so good,” she panted.
“Fuck angel, you’re dripping f’’me. Feed me s’good. Never gonna get enough,” he muttered against her, a little distorted as he continued to suck and lick at her. His fingers gripped her thighs, spreading them open.
Just as she started to squirm, her skin tingled with warmth from the pleasure soaring through her. “Need more, baby, please.” She whined, aching for deep penetration.
“Need more? Yeah?” He pulled back to ask, his face glistening as he accommodated her. “I’ll give you anything baby, what do you want hm? I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need.” Harry pleaded, at her mercy. “Just tell me, baby.”
She wanted to fuck him, oh she wanted to fuck him so bad but Harry must’ve saw the hint of hesitation laced on her face.
“Want my fingers baby? Can I feel how soft you are please? I really wanna feel you squeeze my fingers baby, bet you are s’soft and warm.”
“Oh, God, yes.” She begged, happy he read her mind. “Please, Harry. I want your fingers.” Nothing was sexier than his dirty talk and the sounds of his pleas. Looking down at him on his knees desperately doing anything he could to satisfy her.
“Anything for you,” Harry adjusted his position, sitting up on his knees more, straightening his back. The look of his wet face, dimpled smile that showed his perfect bunny teeth was truly a sight. “Nice and wide for me, doll.”
Harry took his pointer and middle finger carefully down her vulva, collecting the arousal that pooled out of her. His slender fingers worked at the sides of her vulva with a gentle touch as he toyed around her entrance. “Such a pretty pussy,” he complimented. “Are you sure you want this?” Harry asked, hesitating right on the rim of her entrance.
“Yes, please.”
Harry slowly pressed his finger inside her, palm side up. He moaned out loudly as if he was gaining pleasure from the moment himself. “Fucking hell,” he cursed as he watched her reaction.
A soft gasp echoed through the space simultaneously a wet sound from her vagina walls clenching around his finger. Harry bit his lip and shook his head with a smirk. “Oh, I’m gonna love playing with this pussy, my pretty pussy.” His mouth was filthy and she couldn’t even dwell on the fact that he added possession because Harry eased a second finger into her the moment the words fell from his mouth.
“Oh, fuck Harry.” She moaned out, gripping the back of his neck. The sounds coming from her vagina were unlike anything she’d ever heard as he continued to move his fingers. This had to be the most turned on she ever had been. The second Harry curled his fingers against her inner wall, she nearly fell apart, gripping his wrist.
“Oh! Fuck, right there, please.”
“Listen to yourself baby, so fucking perfect. You sound like a perfect angel,” he continued. “Right there, hm? You like my fingers right there?” Harry did a small tapping motion earning a loud, long moan from her.
Harry’s eyes lit up as he watched her face, he was deep in concentration, wanting her to have the most pleasure ever. He whined when he heard her moan again, gripping his hand tightly.
“Harry, Harry,” she urged, “I’m gonna cum,” he pumped his fingers harder, leaning down and attaching his mouth to her wet clit. His pink lips wrapped around her sensitive skin to bring her right over the edge.
“Cum for me, come on. I need it, baby. I need it so bad,” Harry begged, whining as if she was a piece of candy he desperately craved.
As soon as she tightened around his fingers, Harry pushed up inside her and applied all that good kind of pressure that drove her absolutely insane.
“Harry!” She cried out, gripping into his skin. Her mind faded as the orgasm washed over her in completely utter fervor. The air was thick and ripped from her lungs as she fully surrendered to the pleasure he brought her.
“Fuck,” she cursed on the way down, hot and sticky. Harry grinned, proud of himself.
“That was beautiful to see.” He kissed the top of her thigh as he eased his fingers away from her. He brought them immediately up his lips, sucking on the sweet, earthy taste of her arousal. “Mm, can’t get enough.” He said low, shaking his head.
Still a bit dazed, she laid back on her duvet, complete silence filled the air as Harry stood from his knees. She felt the weight of the bed dip as he sat down next to her. “You alright?” He asked.
“Yeah,” she smiled, looking over at him. “Sorry that was just so… good, great actually.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he chuckled. “I’d gladly do it for you one hundred times over.”
When she sat her, still bare from the waist down. She noticed Harry’s large wet spot on his pants. His eye sight followed her own.
“Oh, yeah…” he said softly, a bit embarrassed. “That sorta happened while I was.. uhm,” he didn’t know how to explain that he came in his pants like an inexperienced man. “I jus’ got loads of pleasure watching you and —,” she interrupted him.
“It’s okay, I’m.. flattered.”
He chuckled, “you should be but really, I wanted tonight to be about you. You’re the birthday girl,” he stood to his feet. “Loo? I want to help you clean up.”
“Oh, you’d… you’d do that?” She asked, pleasantly surprised.
“Of course.”
She stood and grabbed some spare clothes from her closet before leading him to the bathroom. Harry stopped at the doorframe, hesitating.
“D-Do you want company? I personally don’t mind,” he muttered quickly.
“Uh, is it… weird?”
“No, it’s not. Plus, I really don’t mind, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” she said quickly.
“Okay,” he smiled and walked through the doorway and shut the door behind him.
“Uhm,” he turned around towards the door to give her a bit of privacy as she used the bathroom and stripped the rest of her clothes. While Harry stood in the corner, he shredded his own ruined jeans and boxer briefs in one go. He turned back around slowly, not embarrassed or ashamed but just vulnerable.
“I can start the shower if you show me,” he said, wanting to make himself useful.
“I got it,” she smiled, turning the dial to warm. Harry washed his hands and peeked through the mirror as she climbed into the stand-in shower. Seconds later, he joined her, closing the curtain behind him. He swallowed hard as she checked out his body with a quick glance.
“Hope you’re not… disappointed,” he whispered into the humid air.
“What, no? You’re beautiful, you look incredible like so incredibly hot.”
“Oh,” he nervously chuckled. “I uh, I was talking about us not having like.. full sex. Since I know you said you wanted birthday sex.” He explained as he put his hands under the water stream.
“Oh, no. That… what we did was fine. I mean, it was amazing. I am… extremely happy with that.” She explained a bit awkwardly.
“Good,” he smiled, stepping a little closer. “I’m extremely happy too. Can I wash your body?” He asked, his green eyes shining into hers.
“O-Oh, of course.” She handed him her loofa with some fruity scented soap on it. Tucking her lips into her mouth as he was very gentle with her, cleaning her body with care. He crouched down to get her legs, letting the water hit the tile fill the space with a relaxing sound. After a few seconds he spoke up again.
“Y’ know, I wouldn’t be against doing this again,” Harry suggested.
“Celebrating my birthday with me?” She smiled as he rose to his feet.
“Yeah, that and maybe… actual sex next time.”
“Oh, yeah… I think we could work that out,” she grinned. “Are you free like… tomorrow?”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Greedy, are we?”
“Well, I would say eager.”
“Are we talking tomorrow, Sunday or tomorrow like today?”
UM HELLO ! I AM ON THE FLOOR IN SHOCKED AND A PUDDLE !
This was so Hot and the smut, chefs kiss, not to sped up into it, the dialogue and their back and forth felt like a nice build, I could feel the tension growing as the more they hung out with eachother.
I love how you didn't quickly run over the fact about Reader and gave us more on her personality a bit and Harry's before actually giving us what we all wanted ! Which was the smut !
I love a whiny man, but one that's like not too whiny and isn't afraid to let you know he's enjoying what's happening. 🙂↕️ and initially, I did have trouble wanting to read this because it was too long (my depression, not you), but I really wanted to read it anyways, and the way your writing was SO GOOD I completely felt like it ended too soon ! Like that just shows how amazing you are at writing !
I can't wait until I read part 2, I know that one's gonna eat more 😋
FAVORITE SCENES
“Sorry, usually I’d ask first but you wouldn’t stop rambling.” He mumbled against her delicate lips that formed a smile under his own. “I’d love to fulfill that wish for you and for fucks sakes,” he paused. “I was hoping you would ask. Now, can I kiss you properly?” – WE love when they ask for permission, and I'm such a sucker for shutting them up with a kiss 🫠
⋆˚꩜｡
“It’s cute but I’m not here to judge your furniture,” Harry told her firmly but not unkind. He slowly started to shrug off his jacket, closing the space between them. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.” – Okayyyyyy and here I thought he'd be more shy and submissive, but clearly, this man has the confidence of lion? Idk what I'm saying, but the facts still stand
“I promise not to make it weird. Whatever happens here,” he gestures to this space. “Stays here unless y’ tell me otherwise. Again, we two consenting adults who..”
"Correct.". Harry smirked, closing the gap between them. He took a small peak at his wrist watch on his forearm. "We have a tight schedule to make if you wanna cum before midnight.". Harry joked, cheekily. – OH, I'm shore you overly confident, man, who's so sure of himself and his talents 😒
“Yeah? Pretty girl wants my mouth, hm?” Harry asked, looking past her shoulder. He nodded his head in the direction of her bed. “Let’s go mess up those sheets.” Harry led her over, his mouth on her neck as they stumbled to her bedroom. “Bet y’taste so fucking good, so sweet.” She gasped softly when Harry picked her up by her thighs suddenly and sat her on the edge of her mattress. His fingers went to his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. – THE WAY THIS HAD ME SCREAMING
Harry was far from timid while he leaned in and took a sniff of her barely clothed, decorated in lace vulva. “Fucking hell, you smell like a dream baby.” His tongue flattened against the lace, tasting the fabric and the arousal that seeped through. Harry whimpered out, closing his eyes in pleasure as he tasted her. His hands held her thighs apart, offering a soothing firm touch to keep her from closing her thighs. – NO FUCKING WORDS COULD EVER SOUND RIGHT ON HOW MUCH THIS MADE ME, WOW
“Need these off,” before she knew it, the delicate lace was ripped away from her skin and utterly ruined. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones.” He promised sweetly, wasting no time to ease his head between her thighs again. – HOT HOT HOT, I have no idea if this is a kink, but I love a good ripping a article of clothes, especially the panties and not many fics have these and my question is why not? It's hot asf !
⋆˚꩜｡
A soft gasp echoed through the space simultaneously a wet sound from her vagina walls clenching around his finger. Harry bit his lip and shook his head with a smirk. “Oh, I’m gonna love playing with this pussy, my pretty pussy.” His mouth was filthy and she couldn’t even dwell on the fact that he added possession because Harry eased a second finger into her the moment the words fell from his mouth. – IM SORRY, YOURS? YOU'RE ALREADY CLAIMING IT AS IF YOU HAVE THOSE RIGHTS? UM. HELLO ?!??!?!?!
In conclusion, this was amazing, and I can't wait for Part 2, where I hopefully see their personalities a lot more, and the smut is smutting. 💕💕💕
MY LOVEEEEE OH MY GOD!!!! YOU HIT ME TWICE IN ONE NIGNT AND OH MY GOODNESS — I’m truly never recover! Thank you so much for your sweet words and I love how you included your favorite parts!!! ❤️🥰
Pleaseeeee let me know your thoughts for part 2!
Thank you again because truly, you don’t know how much this made my night! ❤️ MUAWAHHH 😘
Summary: Harry and his colleague have celebratory birthday sex.
CW: Smut (MDNI - oral f! rec, fingering, talks of sex, dirty talk, whining, pleading, sex outside of workplace, workplace relationship, causal hookup, aftercare, m!orgasm without stimulation, sub!harry), strong language used, nicknames (baby, darling, angel, love, pretty, doll, no y/n), fluff (banter)
Word Count: 5.4k
Pairing: Sunshine Harry x colleague!fem reader
Location: London, UK
POV: readers, third person
💌 A/N: Hi beautiful people! This one was really fun to write. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you again for all the birthday wishes! ❤️ Let me know what you think! P.S. — Part two? 😚
Birthday’s were always so strange for her. The direct attention on her for the day, friends reaching out and sending birthday messages that she hadn’t heard from them the better half of the year and of course, the celebratory, annual birthday cry. Whatever happened, birthdays were emotional and most of the time, didn’t go exactly how she planned. So, she simply stopped celebrating her birthday. No celebration meant no disappointment by making it some sort of special day. She went to work like normal. Not drawing any attention to herself throughout the morning and was grateful when nobody commented about the date. When lunch came around she made her usual routine lunch order, added a cookie for dessert. She sat in the same corner, facing the sunlight and began to eat her mundane turkey sandwich and sip on her Diet Coke as she checked her Instagram feed.
Everything was completely normal and routine, just how she liked it.
“Hey, I heard it’s your birthday today!” Harry, her friendly co-worker, grinned from ear to ear. He held up the line in the middle of the cafeteria. Harry was a colleague on her floor and did his best to make everyone feel welcomed. He was like sunshine, always warm and positive.
He’d been advocating for employees rights like extra time off, adequate wages and even staying the extra hour to help pick up slack wherever was needed. Overall, he was an extremely supportive worker and charming too.
The whole team loved him. Well, everyone except her, especially right now. Something about his charm just didn’t make sense to her. He was so positive and happy, all the time.
“Oh, thanks Harry.” She forced a smile, eyeing the line behind him.
“Oh, sorry.” He muttered to their other colleagues behind him, quickly pulling out his wallet to pay and grabbing his yogurt cup.
When Harry walked past her table, she figured she was safe. Turns out, he was grabbing a spoon and decided to sit next to the birthday girl, giving her all the unwanted attention.
“So, any birthday plans? Wait, how old do you turn today?” Harry asked cheerfully, genuinely curious.
“Uhm, I don’t really celebrate.” She shrugged, “I’m 28 now, well… I guess technically at 9:47pm.”
“You don’t celebrate?” Harry put his hand over his heart as if she said something offensive. “That’s a shame,” he said quietly, thinking for a moment. “Why don’t you celebrate? It’s your one day of the year.”
“Oh, no reason really. I just don’t really like the attention,” she took another bite of her sandwich. The silence fell between them, awkward as Harry began to eat beside her. The smell of his strawberries and granola filled the air.
“Attention is the best part,” he smirked. “What are y’going to do then?” He asked while he ate scoops of his vanilla yogurt.
“Oh, probably just… sit at home? Watch a movie?”
“Darling, that’s no way to celebrate your birthday.” He argued, shaking his head. “Let’s go out tonight,” he declared without any room for much discussion.
“Oh, I don’t think —,” she started, shaking her head.
“It’s no big deal, I want to. Besides, it’s Friday night and you deserve to go dancing.”
“Dancing? Like… at a club?” She swallowed, eyes wide.
“Yeah, that’s usually where dancing takes place,” he said in a matter-of- fact way. “I’ll send you the details,” he promised, standing abruptly. He hurriedly grabbed his half eaten yogurt. “Don’t you dare flake on me!” He half-yelled across the cafe.
The day went by fast and soon, the sun was setting on the horizon. Back at her shoebox flat, she stood in front of her mirror, tops scattered around her hardwood floor and her duvet. “Shit, I don’t have anything to wear,” she cursed to herself. Holding up an old mini black dress that wasn’t even hers and fit a bit odd, it was her only appropriate option. “Fuck it,” she accepted the defeat and shredded her clothes. “It’s just Harry,” she kept reminding herself.
Harry was the type of person that made everyone feel comfortable. Surely, he was only offering to take her dancing out of pity. While at work, she stuck to herself, answered questions when asked and never caused a scene. Harry was so outgoing and chatty, she recalled when their boss asked Harry to “rein it in,” while going off on a tangent during a company wide board meeting. He could carry the conversation, which was somewhat in her favor. She at least knew the night wouldn’t be boring with him around.
Just as she finished her hair and fixed up her lip combo, her phone dinged with a familiar text tone. Not once but twice.
Harry Styles
— Send me your address, we’ll go together.
— Don’t tell me you fell asleep.
“That would’ve been the easiest way out, hm?” She said to herself, glancing in the mirror before sending her address and a quick text back.
— I’m 28, not a grandma. Buzz 1B when you get here.
After about twenty minutes of contemplating on canceling, she heard the familiar alert of her door. She grabbed her small purse, shut the lights off and walked down the hall to meet Harry. Her heels clicked against the tile as she saw Harry’s tall figure standing outside. She watched as his eyes lit up the second he saw her. As she opened the door, Harry immediately went to her side.
“Fuck sakes, look at you,” Harry grinned. His green eyes scanned the length of her body under the blue night sky, seemingly mesmerized for a few seconds. “Sorry,” Harry corrected himself sheepishly. “You look great!” Harry’s smirk spread wide, making his dimples more pronounced. He held out his palm, offering his hand to her.
“You look… good too,” she complimented quickly in return.
God. Was it obvious how hot her skin was under his gaze?
She could’ve swore he was walking a bit slower to staring at her while they began to walk. She wasn’t used to male attention but despite what she thought, she definitely didn’t mind it from him. He made her feel sexy which felt good.
“Oh, don’t make my ego too big.” Harry smirked, tugging her hand gently as he led her down the busy street towards the station. “It’s not too far, just up on Camden High. Have y’ever heard of it? It’s called KOKO. One of my mates took me a few weeks back.”
“KOKO?” She pretends to retrieve some thoughts. “I don’t think so,” she bit her lip, suddenly feeling a bit out of place, there’s no way she’d know a central London club since she never left her flat for anything other than work and the shops.
And here she was on her birthday with her colleague, holding hands and going clubbing in a dress that barely fit her… but what could possibly go wrong?
“You’ll love it, promise. If it’s shit to you, we can go somewhere else.” Harry promised as they waited for the tube. On the cart, Harry stood directly in front of her as she sat down. She couldn’t help but wonder if his protective nature was just ingrained in him or if it was because of her. Throughout the ride, they made small talk about work and how annoying their boss was about minuscule tasks. Before she knew it, her hand was securely in Harry’s again, pulling her to her feet.
“This is us, love.” His hand moved to the small of her back, guiding her out of the busy London underground back to the pavement. “This way,” he said confidently as he walked. “You got your ID on you?”
“Of course,” she smiled as they arrived at a big, black mystery building with a growing queue. Partygoers stood outside, waiting for their ID to get checked and cover to be paid. When it was their turn, Harry swiftly paid for them both, whispering, “my treat,” before showing their ID’s to the bouncer.
The moment she walked through the double doors, the whole energy shifted. It was quiet but she could feel the bass rising from the floor through her body. Harry guided her with a strong grip on her hand. He pulled her through a pair of big black curtains and she was immediately met with a crowd of laid back individuals waiting for their drinks. As music danced around them, she was mesmerized.
“Want a drink before we head in?” Harry asked, pointing to the bar without releasing her hand.
“Uh,” she thought for a few seconds. A shot would definitely help loosen her up but she wasn’t sure where the night would take them. “Let’s skip it for now,” she half yelled over the loud noise that filled the room.
Harry continued to pull her along, guiding her through a busy hallway until they upped the stairs. “Just up here,” she heard him say as they passed by a group of intoxicated girls. As they climbed, a few men nodded at Harry as they rounded the corner. A large dance floor that stretched across the building came into view. The music was loud, bodies everywhere and the air was filled with a sweet, earthy scent that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but marjiuana.
Without much warning, Harry led her straight into the middle of the dance floor. The dim lights and shadows mixed with the lure of surrounding bodies made her feel so alive. She’d never been in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by so many strangers.
Harry kept her close, digging in his bag for two pairs of sunglasses. He leaned close to her, almost enough to touch lips. “Put these on, will help with the lights.” He pointed to the lasers and strobe lights beaming off the ceiling through the club scene. She felt a bit awkward as she put the generic black glasses over her face but she realized many people were wearing them as well. She could see Harry faintly grin as he started to move with the music. She stood still, watching him for a few seconds — absorbing the moment — analyzing his carefree nature.
“Dance!” Harry half yelled, grabbing her hands to suspend them in the air. “Just feel the music,” he pressed his body closer as she began to move to the techno music, her body was a bit awkward.
“This is crazy,” she tried to yell over the bass, feeling it a bit more. The energy radiated off them, Harry leaned close and whispered. “Yeah, there you go.” Their bodies began to mesh together, her dancing still semi-awkward but more cohesive with the large crowd. “Can I?” Harry’s hands hovered over her hips, cautiously waiting for her approval.
Without much thought, she brought her hands over his. A small smirk fell to her lips as she felt him gently applying pressure. Both their bodies began to flow together as the music changed to something more sensual but still upbeat.
“You’re doing great,” Harry whispered into her ear, his facial hair tickling her skin. “You look great,” she heard him say more firmly as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, half to be close and half out of practicality.
“This is my first time,” she explained, gesturing to the dance floor. “Being somewhere like this.”
“Consider your cherry popped then,” Harry replied cheekily, resting his head near her shoulder, breathing in her fruity scent. “Just let the vibe take you, whatever happens…. Just let it happen, if it feels good,” his hands slowly guided her to turn so, she could lean back against him. His fingers stayed glued to her hips.
The two of them together danced and got lost in the beat for a few songs. Harry leaned down and whispered against her ear, his stubble tickling against her skin once again.
“Happy birthday, angel.” His voice was slightly sweeter and an octane deeper than usual. She felt her cheeks heat up fast as they swayed together like they were the only two in the room. “Having fun?”
“So much, thank you for… this,” her lips brushing his ear as she spoke. “I never would’ve gone out if it wasn’t for you,” she said genuinely to which she earned a big grin and a gentle squeeze from his palms.
When the music changed again, Harry didn’t let her go. They danced through a few songs before Harry guided her to the bar downstairs. Slightly out of breath, sweaty, flushed and desperately needing a drink — Harry kept her close. “Would you like a drink? I think I might get something non-alcoholic.”
“Surprise me,” she smirked.
“Oh. My pleasure, birthday girl. What do you like?” She noticed how his gaze dropped to her lips for a second.
“Something… sweet, maybe with a little spicy kick to it but I’ll do non alcoholic too.”
She stepped to the side as Harry ordered and paid for them both. He returned with their drinks in hand. She carefully took hers, tasting it instantly desperate to quench her thirst.
“Mmm,” she moaned, nodding in approval.
“Good?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Want to head back to the dance floor?” Harry asked. With a quick nod, Harry led them back towards the floor but kept them on the edge near the entrance. It was easier for them to conversate but they still had to lean in pretty close to understand each other. Harry stepped in front of her, forcing her attention towards him.
“Any birthday wishes for 28?” He asked, his voice sounded like honey as he sipped on his drink.
“Maybe… start actually doing more? I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Been a bit more closed off lately and tonight has shown me so much.”
“That’s the hard part, isn’t it? Living when you’ve just been surviving.” Harry said close to her ear.
“You deserve to be celebrated everyday, not just today.” Harry exclaimed, putting his free hand in the small of her back. “I’m really glad you came out tonight.”
“I’m glad too.”
Harry’s eyes fell to her lips again as he licked his own. “Any other big dreams for your 28th?” She mimicked his gaze.
Fuck, how bad would it be to makeout with my colleague?
“Maybe… Not wanting this night to end,” she tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, desperately needing to stop herself from kissing him.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry smirked. His hand pressed more into her back, closing the distance.
His hand left her side, cupping the swell of her cheek. “I know we probably shouldn’t—,” He started but their conversation was interrupted as the crowd roared behind them.
Harry laughed and looked towards the sea of strangers before his eyes landed back on her. He did a simple head shake and smirked, “let’s get back in there, can't have you miss any of the fun.” Harry held her hand snug as he led her back near the middle of the dance floor.
In the middle of the strobe lights and groups of sweaty strangers, Harry tugged her close and grinded his pelvic area against her own. The atmosphere was hot, dirty and intimately theirs.
“Fuck, I’m really trying to be good, angel.” He whispered.
“Yeah?” She whispered back, a surge of confidence and sexual tension flowing through her. “Wonder if I want you a little naughty?” She asked in his ear, letting her lips slowly press against the curve of his neck. Through the bass, countless of stranger and uptempo music — she could hear his whimper.
“Is that a birthday wish?” Harry pulled back a little, his grasp on her waist turning a bit more possessive. “Because I’ll gladly give you whatever you want, love.”
“Whatever I want?” She dared to ask, thinking of a few things she’d love for him to do to her. Most of them invoked him on his knees, a sight she wished to see. “Walk me back to mines?” She suggested, already dragging him out of the crowd of people.
Sex was usual out of love than lust for her but Harry’s words of, “let loose,” and “you’re in your twenties, this is the time to have fun,” clouded her mind. Plus, Harry’s face card and muscular body was the perfect way to end the night. She wasn’t shy to talk about sex with friends but asking for it? Well, that felt greedy and selfish. She wasn’t the type to do hook ups but again, it was her birthday and through her twenty eight years — she’s never had birthday sex.
While they rode the tube back, she finally told him her last birthday wish.
“Okay, don’t laugh. Can I say something?”
“‘Course love, this is a safe space. Tell me anything,” harry promised, rubbing the back of her hand.
“I have one more birthday wish.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I’ve never… “ she started, Harry’s eyes went wide for a second.
“Oh, love. Don’t tell me you never had cake today.”
“No, no,” she laughed, a blush filling her cheeks. “Not that.” She let out a sigh, closing her eyes before cupping her hand, telling Harry to lean in a bit closer to whisper. “I’ve never had birthday sex and I’m not saying it has to be you but I felt like there was a little vibe between us but if you’re uncomfortable then it’s okay —,” she started to ramble with her eyes closed, not able to look at Harry. “And if you go to HR, can you please not tell them that I ask—,” he finally cut her off, his hand resting against her skin as he stole a quick kiss from her lips.
“Sorry, usually I’d ask first but you wouldn’t stop rambling.” He mumbled against her delicate lips that formed a smile under his own. “I’d love to fulfill that wish for you and for fucks sakes,” he paused. “I was hoping you would ask. Now, can I kiss you properly?”
Starstuck, she smiled wide and barely nodded her head before his pink, plush lips were on hers again. The kiss was soft and gentle as if she was the most delicate woman waiting to fall apart. When the intercom announced her stop, reality began to creep in. Harry led her off the cart and back up to the pavement towards hers.
“This isn’t… weird, right?”
“Not if you don’t make it weird,” Harry shrugged, nonchalantly. “Listen, we’re both consenting adults that are coherent and equally enthusiastic… Why shouldn’t we end your birthday on a good note?” Harry explained as they turned the corner. “It can be whatever you want it to be, it’s your wish but know that I’m happily willing to grant it.”
She nearly fumbled her keys as they arrived back at her flat, Harry couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He held her waist, his taller slender figure over hers.
“This is my humble abode,” she announced as she opened the front door. “Make yourself at home.” She was glad she tied up her space the day before.
“It’s cute but I’m not here to judge your furniture,” Harry told her firmly but not unkind. He slowly started to shrug off his jacket, closing the space between them. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
“Would you like some water?” She blurted out as soon as she could feel the temperature of his body near hers. “I have tap or spark—,” she offered
“I’m quite fine,” he mumbled as he leaned down and kissed her shoulder blade.
“Okay, if you change your mind —,” she started but Harry spoke up again.
“It’s okay to be nervous, I’m nervous too.” Harry took a small step back, “do you want to have sex? Because I don’t want to do anything y’ aren’t comfortable with,” He said.
“No,” she sighed, “I mean, yes. I do want to have sex with you. I’m just nervous and worried that it will be weird when we go back to the office…”
There, the elephant was finally out, she thought.
“I promise not to make it weird. Whatever happens here,” he gestures to this space. “Stays here unless y’ tell me otherwise. Again, we two consenting adults who..”
“Who want to have fun and hook up,” she finished the sentence for him.
“Correct.” Harry smirked, closing the gap between them. He took a small peak at his wrist watch on his forearm. “We have a tight schedule to make if you wanna cum before midnight.” Harry joked, cheekily.
Her face reddened but she reached up and kissed his lips without hesitation. She was tired of waiting, acting all shy when all she felt was greed and lust for Harry.
“Want to make you feel s’good,” Harry muttered against her lips. Her brain began to fog up with all the ways he could make her cum, desperately needing a release.
“Please, Harry.” She begged, skimming the clothed muscles along his back to the bottom hem of his shirt. “I want your month,” she blurted out, overcome with desire.
“Yeah? Pretty girl wants my mouth, hm?” Harry asked, looking past her shoulder. He nodded his head in the direction of her bed. “Let’s go mess up those sheets.” Harry led her over, his mouth on her neck as they stumbled to her bedroom. “Bet y’taste so fucking good, so sweet.” She gasped softly when Harry picked her up by her thighs suddenly and sat her on the edge of her mattress. His fingers went to his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” she whispered more to herself. Apparently sunshine worked out and had loads of tattoos.
“Thank you baby but you’re fucking stunning.”
She couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence run through her, eagerly needing his touch. The both of them fumbled with the zipper of her dress, working it down her back and off her shoulders. She was glad she wore a cute matching set in her favorite color, which Harry seemed pleased about too.
“Bloody hell,” he eased to his knees, “lift your hips, angel.” He worked her out of her dress, easily forgotten as his green eyes fell to her flushed skin. “What a treat f’me, darling. Look at you,” Harry smirked, “Can I taste you, baby?”
“Please, Harry.”
Harry was far from timid while he leaned in and took a sniff of her barely clothed, decorated in lace vulva. “Fucking hell, you smell like a dream baby.” His tongue flattened against the lace, tasting the fabric and the arousal that seeped through. Harry whimpered out, closing his eyes in pleasure as he tasted her. His hands held her thighs apart, offering a soothing firm touch to keep her from closing her thighs.
“Fuck,” she cursed and let out a soft moan, as Harry nudged his pointed nose against her.
“Need these off,” before she knew it, the delicate lace was ripped away from her skin and utterly ruined. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones.” He promised sweetly, wasting no time to ease his head between her thighs again.
Harry’s tattoo arms rested against her thighs, holding them open. She tried to study the delicate ink etched into his skin, partly curious and partially to soothe her nerves but the moment his tongue was on her, she couldn’t focus on anything else but pleasure.
“Ooh,” she moaned out. Her hand clasped around her mouth.
Harry was easily better than any man she'd ever been with. His tongue was so skilled with the right amount of pressure and attention to her clit, she figured she orgasm multiple times way before midnight ended. His eyes found hers as he began to suck down on her clit, his moans sending an extra vibration through her. Her hand went to his thick, disheveled hair tugging it for leverage as she grinded her hips on his handsome face.
“Fuck, need to hear you, please.” He begged, his voice turning into a whiny plea. “Please, baby please.”
“Oh, Harry.” She cried out, squeezing her thighs uncontrollably around him. Her body started to heat as the small bubble of warmth formed deep in her abdomen. “Feels so good,” she panted.
“Fuck angel, you’re dripping f’’me. Feed me s’good. Never gonna get enough,” he muttered against her, a little distorted as he continued to suck and lick at her. His fingers gripped her thighs, spreading them open.
Just as she started to squirm, her skin tingled with warmth from the pleasure soaring through her. “Need more, baby, please.” She whined, aching for deep penetration.
“Need more? Yeah?” He pulled back to ask, his face glistening as he accommodated her. “I’ll give you anything baby, what do you want hm? I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need.” Harry pleaded, at her mercy. “Just tell me, baby.”
She wanted to fuck him, oh she wanted to fuck him so bad but Harry must’ve saw the hint of hesitation laced on her face.
“Want my fingers baby? Can I feel how soft you are please? I really wanna feel you squeeze my fingers baby, bet you are s’soft and warm.”
“Oh, God, yes.” She begged, happy he read her mind. “Please, Harry. I want your fingers.” Nothing was sexier than his dirty talk and the sounds of his pleas. Looking down at him on his knees desperately doing anything he could to satisfy her.
“Anything for you,” Harry adjusted his position, sitting up on his knees more, straightening his back. The look of his wet face, dimpled smile that showed his perfect bunny teeth was truly a sight. “Nice and wide for me, doll.”
Harry took his pointer and middle finger carefully down her vulva, collecting the arousal that pooled out of her. His slender fingers worked at the sides of her vulva with a gentle touch as he toyed around her entrance. “Such a pretty pussy,” he complimented. “Are you sure you want this?” Harry asked, hesitating right on the rim of her entrance.
“Yes, please.”
Harry slowly pressed his finger inside her, palm side up. He moaned out loudly as if he was gaining pleasure from the moment himself. “Fucking hell,” he cursed as he watched her reaction.
A soft gasp echoed through the space simultaneously a wet sound from her vagina walls clenching around his finger. Harry bit his lip and shook his head with a smirk. “Oh, I’m gonna love playing with this pussy, my pretty pussy.” His mouth was filthy and she couldn’t even dwell on the fact that he added possession because Harry eased a second finger into her the moment the words fell from his mouth.
“Oh, fuck Harry.” She moaned out, gripping the back of his neck. The sounds coming from her vagina were unlike anything she’d ever heard as he continued to move his fingers. This had to be the most turned on she ever had been. The second Harry curled his fingers against her inner wall, she nearly fell apart, gripping his wrist.
“Oh! Fuck, right there, please.”
“Listen to yourself baby, so fucking perfect. You sound like a perfect angel,” he continued. “Right there, hm? You like my fingers right there?” Harry did a small tapping motion earning a loud, long moan from her.
Harry’s eyes lit up as he watched her face, he was deep in concentration, wanting her to have the most pleasure ever. He whined when he heard her moan again, gripping his hand tightly.
“Harry, Harry,” she urged, “I’m gonna cum,” he pumped his fingers harder, leaning down and attaching his mouth to her wet clit. His pink lips wrapped around her sensitive skin to bring her right over the edge.
“Cum for me, come on. I need it, baby. I need it so bad,” Harry begged, whining as if she was a piece of candy he desperately craved.
As soon as she tightened around his fingers, Harry pushed up inside her and applied all that good kind of pressure that drove her absolutely insane.
“Harry!” She cried out, gripping into his skin. Her mind faded as the orgasm washed over her in completely utter fervor. The air was thick and ripped from her lungs as she fully surrendered to the pleasure he brought her.
“Fuck,” she cursed on the way down, hot and sticky. Harry grinned, proud of himself.
“That was beautiful to see.” He kissed the top of her thigh as he eased his fingers away from her. He brought them immediately up his lips, sucking on the sweet, earthy taste of her arousal. “Mm, can’t get enough.” He said low, shaking his head.
Still a bit dazed, she laid back on her duvet, complete silence filled the air as Harry stood from his knees. She felt the weight of the bed dip as he sat down next to her. “You alright?” He asked.
“Yeah,” she smiled, looking over at him. “Sorry that was just so… good, great actually.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he chuckled. “I’d gladly do it for you one hundred times over.”
When she sat her, still bare from the waist down. She noticed Harry’s large wet spot on his pants. His eye sight followed her own.
“Oh, yeah…” he said softly, a bit embarrassed. “That sorta happened while I was.. uhm,” he didn’t know how to explain that he came in his pants like an inexperienced man. “I jus’ got loads of pleasure watching you and —,” she interrupted him.
“It’s okay, I’m.. flattered.”
He chuckled, “you should be but really, I wanted tonight to be about you. You’re the birthday girl,” he stood to his feet. “Loo? I want to help you clean up.”
“Oh, you’d… you’d do that?” She asked, pleasantly surprised.
“Of course.”
She stood and grabbed some spare clothes from her closet before leading him to the bathroom. Harry stopped at the doorframe, hesitating.
“D-Do you want company? I personally don’t mind,” he muttered quickly.
“Uh, is it… weird?”
“No, it’s not. Plus, I really don’t mind, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” she said quickly.
“Okay,” he smiled and walked through the doorway and shut the door behind him.
“Uhm,” he turned around towards the door to give her a bit of privacy as she used the bathroom and stripped the rest of her clothes. While Harry stood in the corner, he shredded his own ruined jeans and boxer briefs in one go. He turned back around slowly, not embarrassed or ashamed but just vulnerable.
“I can start the shower if you show me,” he said, wanting to make himself useful.
“I got it,” she smiled, turning the dial to warm. Harry washed his hands and peeked through the mirror as she climbed into the stand-in shower. Seconds later, he joined her, closing the curtain behind him. He swallowed hard as she checked out his body with a quick glance.
“Hope you’re not… disappointed,” he whispered into the humid air.
“What, no? You’re beautiful, you look incredible like so incredibly hot.”
“Oh,” he nervously chuckled. “I uh, I was talking about us not having like.. full sex. Since I know you said you wanted birthday sex.” He explained as he put his hands under the water stream.
“Oh, no. That… what we did was fine. I mean, it was amazing. I am… extremely happy with that.” She explained a bit awkwardly.
“Good,” he smiled, stepping a little closer. “I’m extremely happy too. Can I wash your body?” He asked, his green eyes shining into hers.
“O-Oh, of course.” She handed him her loofa with some fruity scented soap on it. Tucking her lips into her mouth as he was very gentle with her, cleaning her body with care. He crouched down to get her legs, letting the water hit the tile fill the space with a relaxing sound. After a few seconds he spoke up again.
“Y’ know, I wouldn’t be against doing this again,” Harry suggested.
“Celebrating my birthday with me?” She smiled as he rose to his feet.
“Yeah, that and maybe… actual sex next time.”
“Oh, yeah… I think we could work that out,” she grinned. “Are you free like… tomorrow?”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Greedy, are we?”
“Well, I would say eager.”
“Are we talking tomorrow, Sunday or tomorrow like today?”
UM HELLO ! I AM ON THE FLOOR IN SHOCKED AND A PUDDLE !
This was so Hot and the smut, chefs kiss, not to sped up into it, the dialogue and their back and forth felt like a nice build, I could feel the tension growing as the more they hung out with eachother.
I love how you didn't quickly run over the fact about Reader and gave us more on her personality a bit and Harry's before actually giving us what we all wanted ! Which was the smut !
I love a whiny man, but one that's like not too whiny and isn't afraid to let you know he's enjoying what's happening. 🙂↕️ and initially, I did have trouble wanting to read this because it was too long (my depression, not you), but I really wanted to read it anyways, and the way your writing was SO GOOD I completely felt like it ended too soon ! Like that just shows how amazing you are at writing !
I can't wait until I read part 2, I know that one's gonna eat more 😋
FAVORITE SCENES
“Sorry, usually I’d ask first but you wouldn’t stop rambling.” He mumbled against her delicate lips that formed a smile under his own. “I’d love to fulfill that wish for you and for fucks sakes,” he paused. “I was hoping you would ask. Now, can I kiss you properly?” – WE love when they ask for permission, and I'm such a sucker for shutting them up with a kiss 🫠
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“It’s cute but I’m not here to judge your furniture,” Harry told her firmly but not unkind. He slowly started to shrug off his jacket, closing the space between them. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.” – Okayyyyyy and here I thought he'd be more shy and submissive, but clearly, this man has the confidence of lion? Idk what I'm saying, but the facts still stand
“I promise not to make it weird. Whatever happens here,” he gestures to this space. “Stays here unless y’ tell me otherwise. Again, we two consenting adults who..”
"Correct.". Harry smirked, closing the gap between them. He took a small peak at his wrist watch on his forearm. "We have a tight schedule to make if you wanna cum before midnight.". Harry joked, cheekily. – OH, I'm shore you overly confident, man, who's so sure of himself and his talents 😒
“Yeah? Pretty girl wants my mouth, hm?” Harry asked, looking past her shoulder. He nodded his head in the direction of her bed. “Let’s go mess up those sheets.” Harry led her over, his mouth on her neck as they stumbled to her bedroom. “Bet y’taste so fucking good, so sweet.” She gasped softly when Harry picked her up by her thighs suddenly and sat her on the edge of her mattress. His fingers went to his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. – THE WAY THIS HAD ME SCREAMING
Harry was far from timid while he leaned in and took a sniff of her barely clothed, decorated in lace vulva. “Fucking hell, you smell like a dream baby.” His tongue flattened against the lace, tasting the fabric and the arousal that seeped through. Harry whimpered out, closing his eyes in pleasure as he tasted her. His hands held her thighs apart, offering a soothing firm touch to keep her from closing her thighs. – NO FUCKING WORDS COULD EVER SOUND RIGHT ON HOW MUCH THIS MADE ME, WOW
“Need these off,” before she knew it, the delicate lace was ripped away from her skin and utterly ruined. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones.” He promised sweetly, wasting no time to ease his head between her thighs again. – HOT HOT HOT, I have no idea if this is a kink, but I love a good ripping a article of clothes, especially the panties and not many fics have these and my question is why not? It's hot asf !
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A soft gasp echoed through the space simultaneously a wet sound from her vagina walls clenching around his finger. Harry bit his lip and shook his head with a smirk. “Oh, I’m gonna love playing with this pussy, my pretty pussy.” His mouth was filthy and she couldn’t even dwell on the fact that he added possession because Harry eased a second finger into her the moment the words fell from his mouth. – IM SORRY, YOURS? YOU'RE ALREADY CLAIMING IT AS IF YOU HAVE THOSE RIGHTS? UM. HELLO ?!??!?!?!
In conclusion, this was amazing, and I can't wait for Part 2, where I hopefully see their personalities a lot more, and the smut is smutting. 💕💕💕
Summary: “Kissing and I hope they caught us, whether they like or not.” // As Harry’s girlfriend steps into the spotlight, Harry is cautious but unapologetic about his love for her.
CW: slight angst (negative fan reaction, implied hate, rumors/backlash) strong language used, nicknames (sweet girl, baby, babe, pretty girl, no y/n), fluff, kissing
Word Count: 3.5k
Pairing: Famous!Harry x girlfriend!fem reader
Location: UK / USA
POV: readers, third person
Harry pic from here!
💌 A/N: Hellooo gorgeous! This idea came to me while listening to Doja Cat’s “Agora Hill’s”! Fun fact — agora hill is hinted at the word ‘agoraphilia’—a psychological term and fetish for sexual arousal in public places or wide-open spaces. Hence the ‘show you off’ type of thing but this fanfic doesn’t dive into exclusively sexual content— Harry indeed wants to navigate his private relationship in the public eye! Even though it has to do with famous Harry/Harries, it’s all just fiction! Hope you like it! 💛
Relationships were never easy. Regular relationships were tough, full of ups and downs, sacrifices, complicated compromises, outside opinions and loads of effort. Even the best relationship had their problems and required quality time and care to sustain them.
Now, try multiplying that on a massive, global, public scale. Under the spotlight, opinions were made before they could even correct them. Harry gave her the rundown, explained how difficult and overwhelming the attention could be. Still, Harry’s girlfriend didn’t stray. She understood that his brand and the attention he got would always be a part of him but certainly not the only part. She began to date Harry late into his break and when he finished his fourth album, the conversation of whether they were serious or not came rather quickly.
“So, you’re 100% in?” Harry asked, giddy. “Because once we’re out there, it can get a bit mad.”
“I want you and this is a part of you. A very important part of you that I’m very excited to see and witness.” she explained gently. “I love you, all of you Harry.”
“I love you, sweet girl. So much.”
Being Harry’s partner came with perks — endless travel, so much love & care, an abundance of gifts — big and small, tons of yummy food from places they could only dream of. The thought of, “what the fans might think”, never occurred to her. Harry did his best to distance her from the spotlight for as long as he could. He created a bubble of security that he was able to maintain during his break. He would fill their time with private rose filled, bubble baths situated in a luxurious flat in Paris. With the warm evening sun decorated the walls, casting a perfect shadow of the Eiffel Tower against the limestone — it was protected.
He filled her days with so much positive energy, genuine amusement and joy that she was unaware of the quiet storm that followed.
No, she didn’t think about the endless scrutiny or backlash she faced after pictured with him. Never that, Harry maintained the bubble of protection well. And it worked for a while. He had one strict rule, not to have a look at Twitter or scroll through his comments on Instagram. He always said — “if something happens baby, I’ll be the first to tell you. Other than that, it’s just noise.”
That was at the beginning of their relationship after they were first spotted hand in hand. She still could remember the lecture Harry gave her a day before.
“When you’re out with me, strangers or fans might come up to us. No matter what, I’ll always protect you.” Harry explained, “most of the time, it’s harmless… a small interaction, a few minutes.”
As famous as he was, she wasn’t expecting anything less. Harry adored his fans and would make time for them whenever he could. It didn’t matter if he was running late to a meeting or stopped multiple times, he knew how important it was to them. Plus, it was equally as important to him, asking for their name, giving out a hug, it never bothered him. He handed his fanbase with so much love and care, it made sense why so many people adored him.
The first time they officially went out, a fan stopped Harry politely to talk. Harry’s girlfriend stepped to the side, watching the sweet interaction. The fan smiled and waved her hand, and she returned the gesture with a big smile. Just like anything else, Harry grabbed her hand before crossing the busy pavement — not much came of the three minute interaction, or so she had thought.
“You okay?” Harry checked in as they walked.
“Yeah, that was really sweet actually.” She grinned, “they just adore you.”
Later the same day Harry’s publicist, Hilary called. Harry excused himself but she could still hear the conversation faintly.
“Yeah, it’s personal. I mean, she’s my girlfriend but they don’t need all the nitty gritty details,” Harry explained into the phone. “Just keep it limited please,” Harry asked, politely.
Harry was desperate to keep his personal life private but he also made it clear — “I’ll never hide you baby, if you want to go out then we can go out. Whatever you're comfortable with,” he promised. What was tricky was the fine line between being seen with him and protecting their private moments.
Once Harry’s relationship news broke, everyone had a camera and was eager to get a shot of Harry, especially the paparazzi. Harry explained that they got paid extra for exclusive photos of him coupled up. Suddenly, it didn’t matter if it was a fan, the general public or paparazzi — if they were visible, they would be photographed. The bubble that Harry created for protection popped and the new dynamic created some unresolved tension.
The media conversation happened, then happened again once more photos were leaked. Public opinions on every little thing sparked like a wild fire on Harry’s social media — Twitter, TikTok and every other platform known to man.
“Just promise me you won’t look at it. They make up shit without even half about you or our relationship,” Harry firmly said one night in Berlin. The hotel was starting to feel suffocating, aware of all the watchful eyes as Harry geared up to promote his album. Their usual private, low profile dates were starting to feel like a public chastising, always found and photographed.
His girlfriend made sure to keep a straight face, not overly happily but not stone cold — just normal. Apparently that encouraged a great amount of backlash too.
“What are they saying now?” She dared to ask one night after Harry got news that more photos were leaked.
“Nothing,” Harry sniffled, tucking his phone away. “Nothing newsworthy,” he promised but curiosity sparked inside her again. ‘Don’t look at it, it’s best you don’t know’, the little voice in her head told her. She fought the urge by deleting most of her social media apps on her phone, a trick Harry taught her when the noise got too much.
When Harry’s tour started, Harry allowed her to choose her attendance level. He made it clear that he’d love to see her at his shows but understood if she needed a break. After the first show, it was like a drug — the thrill of watching him on stage was an addiction. It became easy to support Harry. She’d bond with his family and friends, invite her own, sing along to all of his lyrics and dance happily inside the private box far from the stage.
She thoroughly supported Harry, going to show after show. Away from the internet, she was curious about what fans were thinking or saying. It was only human nature but she didn’t dwell on it. For her, it wasn’t out of boredom or clinginess. She knew how grateful she was to be able to watch him perform each night.
“I’ll send a big wave up to you baby,” Harry promised, his sound assistant connecting his inner ears box to the back of his pants.
“Oh, actually Brad and I talked about going down to the pit after a few songs,” her voice came out confident as ever. Her eyes softened as Harry’s hard gaze landed on her. She could feel the protectiveness radiating off of him.
“The pit?” He questioned, a small concerned look flashed his features before he excused the sound assistant. He stepped closer, his hands reached out towards her, interlocking their fingers. “That might be a bit…” he was searching for words, not wanting to police her but give her a quiet warning. “Loud,” he said, figuratively and literally. When she offered him a small nod and reassuring smile, all he could say was — “have fun, stay hydrated and dance if you want,” before pecking her lips.
The pit was loud, louder than she ever expected. Fans screamed as Harry walked by and screamed again when he went away. Everyone shared a collective longing for her boyfriend, something that she admired deeply and never wanted to take away from him. She knew how hard he worked and deeply respected his talent. She deeply respected his fans and appreciated their dedication. They deserved to have so much fun, scream, cry, laugh and dance all together, if they wanted too. They made the experience enjoyable and entirely theirs.
For the first few songs, nobody really paid any mind. She danced alongside fans with Brad, having a great time. She sang all the lyrics to Harry’s songs and enjoyed watching him come alive on stage. It wasn’t until Harry took a small break, Brad was dragging her to a new spot when they got stopped.
“You’re Harry’s girlfriend!” A girl from a group of fans beamed excitedly with an outstretched finger.
“Yes, I am.” She smiled back, “Are you having fun?” She asked, wanting the conversation to stay light and directed away from her.
“So much fun!” The fans beamed together, “can we have a picture?” Another asked.
She thought about it for a second, looking at the small group of girls with their attention turned towards her. The outcome of a simple ‘yes’ versus a polite ‘no’ crossed her mind as she made her decision. “Oh, sure!” She settled, a smile spread across her face as someone snapped a quick photo of them with the stage shining bright in the background. “Have so much fun and enjoy the show!” She told them happily before Brad ushered her away.
“That’s went well,” was all Brad whispered in her ear before they started to dance again. The simple, pleasant interaction was forgotten as she watched her boyfriend perform.
Late that night Harry was fresh out of the shower, toweling his hair. The question came out light, curious and unaccusing at first.
“So, when you were in the pit did any fans interact with you?” He asked, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you a group of girls asked for a photo,” she replied quickly, taking another bite of the fruity candy that sat on her lap.
Harry didn’t say much at first, just nodded.
“And they were nice?” He questioned, a cautious tone carried through the air.
“Yeah, baby. They didn’t say anything mean,” she thought back to the interaction, replaying it in her mind. “Why?” She drew out, giving him a look.
“Were you… polite?” Harry sounded like he didn’t want to ask but needed to confirm.
“When am I never not polite, Harry?” She frowned, sitting up against the fluffed pillows more. “Why would you ask that?” She deadpanned, a warmth rising through her.
Harry rounded their shared bed, a sigh escaping his mouth before he could stop it. He no longer seemed curious, just dreadful like some news was coming that he didn’t want to share.
“I ask because my publicist left me a voicemail while I was in the shower followed by some urgent texts.”
She frowned, her eyebrows closing in as her face grew worrisome. “About what?”
“Some fans said you were… unsavory, to put it lightly.”
“What do you mean? I was nothing but nice,” she frowned, shaking her head as the interaction rolled through her mind again. “I was polite, Harry. I took the photo and told them to enjoy the show, it all lasted a literal minute,” she defended.
“Was there anything else? Any point during the show that maybe you were looking… unhappy?” Harry questioned, carefully. “Or maybe you said something a bit too loud that was supposed to be private?”
“What? No, never!” Her heart began to race, feeling utterly confused and equally tense. “I enjoyed it like anything else,” she crossed her arms. “What are they saying?” She asked, pointed.
Harry let out a sigh, his hand running over his face as he sat quietly.
“Harry?” She questioned, “you promised to tell me if something happened.” She reminded him, not wanting to pick a fight but hold him accountable.
“You’re right baby, I just —,” he sighed again. “Some fans just said some things on twitter that kinda made you look bad,” he said carefully.
“Like what?”
“Like jus’…petty stuff, probably out of jealousy or envy.” His lips formed a thin line as if he was thinking about how much to say.
“Okay, but like… what? Give me an example.”
“They said, “she didn’t even want to take the photo,” and how you seemed a bit upset that the person asked.”
“That wasn’t the case at all, I was just going through the whole situation. You know how it goes, I didn’t know if I should say yes or not.”
“I know baby, I’m sorry. I just — ,” he let his head fall, looking into his lap as he played with the hem of the damp towel. “There’s a lot of unkind things going around right now about you, about us and I can’t always be there to protect you.”
“You don’t have to be, Harry. I can handle it,” she breathed out, “I know what this was when I agreed to be your partner.”
“I know baby but still, it’s… it’s overbearing at times and I don’t want it to overwhelm you. That’s exactly why ‘m so strict about social media.”
“I won’t look at it,” she half promised, feeling a tinge in her chest. “The comments, the tweets.”
“No baby, I mean… think no social media at all for a few days, okay? Please, for me?”
“It’s that bad?” She frowned, “I can’t even go on my personals?”
“No, I’ll tell you when you can go back on.” Harry offered as if it was some type of compromise.
She scoffed, she couldn’t help it. A part of her knew he was only protecting her but it felt restrictive and she hated that feeling. Harry hated that feeling so, it felt extra apprehensive when he demanded it.
“I’m sorry,” Harry extended, placing his hand on her head gently. His lips came down to press a reassuring kiss on her head.
“No, it’s… it was bound to happen, right?” Her eyes dropped to the mattress, feeling even more exhausted than ever. “Think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” she instantly wanted to close off, forget the situation for a few hours.
“You sure? We can talk about it,” Harry offered.
She simply shook her head, not knowing how to tell him that it was overwhelming her.
“Ok,” Harry didn’t press, he allowed her to place her head against her pillows — back turned towards him. “I love you,” he whispered into the air as his hand stroked her hair, a calm gesture to help her sleep.
“I love you.”
The morning came unforgiving and insistent. The bright light shined through the curtains, waking her from her sleep. Harry’s side of the bed was cold, left empty with the memory of their argument last night.
“Harry?” She called out, wondering where he went too.
Like clockwork, he rounded the corridor. His pointer finger signaled in the air as he held his yellow phone case to his ear, “just a second,” he mouthed. She was used to this but Harry's expression told her everything she needed to know, the conversation wasn’t a normal schedule change or rehearsal suggestion but something more pointed.
She waited in bed, letting her head run through the possibility as Harry spoke into the phone, pacing the corridor.
“Yeah, yeah.” He said, “yeah, I got it.” He mumbled into the phone speaker. “Yeah, no worries.” He listened for a few more seconds before saying, “yeah, I think that’s good.” He nodded in agreement. “Alright, take care,” he replied before ending the call. His expression softened as he walked towards her.
“Good morning, how’d you sleep?” He asked, towering over her. His palm caressed her back in a soothing motion.
“Like I needed it,” she sighed, “who was that on the phone?”
“Hilary,” he started, his publicist. “She just wanted to go over everything, see if we can shift the narrative or simply… ignore it.”
“Ignore it?” She asked. Harry nodded, shrugging. He was too calm but she forced herself to remember that this wasn’t his first go around. He had a whole team for situations as such and he trusted the professionals, so she had to too.
“You know how you acted and other people probably witnessed it too. A few fans that want to stir something up just for the sake of it, don’t deserve the attention,” he explained, firmly. “You just keep being you and we just keep being us, unapologetic.” He added.
“And what’s the alternative?” She questioned. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, close to her legs.
“The alternative? Well, we could just showcase how adorably nice you are to the point where it’s sickening but that wouldn’t really be as authentic or fair. We don’t have to prove anything since you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But they believe I did,” she reminded, playing devil's advocate.
“Only a few,” his fingers laced between hers. “Enough to rock the boat but we’re strong,” he shrugged. “I’ll just do something incredibly distracting like go for a run in some horrendously short, little shorts and the rumors will dissipate.”
“Harry, you shouldn’t have to do that.” She fronted, shaking her head. She hated how self aware and selfless he was, willing to do anything to direct the negative attention away from her.
“No, I shouldn’t but I will,” he smiled, “the world will continue to go on, darling and we can’t just stop for every minor misunderstanding or rumor.”
The icky feeling in her stomach started to settle, reassured by his gentle words and multiple kisses. The days flowed together, Harry was busy with rehearsal, sound check then custom fittings and a bunch of other things she was still working to understand. Still, she did her best to be the most supportive girlfriend as they traveled from city to city.
When they arrived in New York for his group of shows, Harry did what he usually did — went out without security, ran across Manhattan, bought her flowers in the upper east side and met with fans when he was stopped. When he returned to their rented home, he handed her the bouquet of sunflowers and mentioned plans of a late dinner for their quality time, weekly date.
Dinner went and gone, their bellies full of rich spices and sweet desserts. Harry tugged her along, set on walking through the city. “Midnight stroll through Central Park?”
“Will it be okay?”
“Of course,” Harry shrugged. “Remember be in th—,” he started his gentle reminder that he whispered to her more times than he could count.
“‘Be in the moment and stay present with me’, I know.” She was still adjusting to being Harry Styles' girlfriend versus just Harry’s.
They walked slowly, there was no sense of rushing. The city was awake but quiet. The park was still lit up by lights and the city that surrounded it. Harry's thumb steadily rubbed against her hand, pulling her gently along. The quiet spoke for the both of them, comfortable in each other's presence.
“How you keeping up with everything?” Harry checked in.
“It’s been… an adjustment, the time difference, crowds, culture is much different from London,” she explained. “Feels more lively, I can tell fans are so excited that you’re back in America.”
Harry nodded, “seems like it, huh?” He wasn’t boasting, his fans were truly dedicated and delighted that he was in the city. He was so publicly embraced.
“How about you?” She asked, looking up towards his side profile as they continued to walk along the path.
“I’m pleasantly surprised by how well you are taking it all,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
“That doesn’t answer my questions!” His girlfriend rolled her eyes cheekily, shaking her head.
“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he replied simply, a private dimpled smile across his face. Harry suddenly stopped, closing the distance between them. His hands cupped her face, admiring her features. “my pretty girl,” he whispered in adoration. “You handle it all so well.” The little statement of praise made her belly flutter with butterflies. “You promise to tell me if it gets too much?”
“Promise,” and she did.
Before she could say anything else — they were kissing. Harry's eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips softly to her mouth. His kiss was tentative at first but deepened as she kissed him back, gripping onto the sides of his jacket. Harry opened his mouth, his tongue darting against hers as her skin flushed with desire. His palm ushered her closer, fitting her snug against his frame. She felt his face twist, deepening the angle as he moaned into her mouth. The sound brought her back to reality, worried their full blow makeout session in Central Park would end up on Deux Moi by the morning. Her brain was a bit more cautious now but Harry did his best to reassure her.
“Harry,” she pulled back, “wonder if someone sees?” She whispered quietly.
“Shhh,” he teased, his lips finding hers again. “I hope they caught us,” he muttered. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck as he whispered in her ear, his voice dropping an octave deeper.
“Whether they like it or not, I’ll show you off,” he smirked before sobering himself. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
R/N: Hehe, every time I see with words, Show You Off JB song starts playing in my head, so the title really just kept playing JB
CAN I JUST SAY ! THIS WAS AMAZING? You really wrote it as realistic as possible, quite literally made me feel sad for Harry and Reader a bit. Then, mostly for Harry because I mean, he 100% has to go through with this and deal with media and the over analysis, and not to mention a certain group !
I would honestly and I know I'm probably bad, but I would be so mad at Harry for like saying no social media until he thinks it was okay, I grew up with a controlling father and so that kind of came to surface when I read that and I would actually probably be even more mad than the reader and probably would be stubborn and argue with him lol !
I think this was really well written, the pace between it all and how easily the transitions felt when you kept moving from scene to scene.
I love how they never once pitted against each other or that she never grew in resentment, whether it be towards the fans that started that fake rumor, the invasion of privacy after she was pulled out of their bubble, or towards Harry for being who he is.
I especially enjoyed the ending ! Beautiful ending, love the makeout scene, Loved that he moaned and love that he isn't afraid to be out in the open like any normal couple, even if she was slightly !
No favorite scenes because it was all perfect ! 💕💕💕💕
CW: hi guys!! welcome to rockstar OTRA lhh x niall bestie yn!! this one was very much requested so i hope it meets all ur expectations!! contents include nasty NASTY smut dirty talk bit of humiliation the lot LOL lhh was a slut so i had to honor him! minors dni and pls enjoy :-)
WC: 13.6k (whoops)
Inspired by this and this request.
Special thanks to my friend @sparklejumpropequeen1113 for brainstorming with me!
Preview:
“I was curious to meet you,” Harry began.
“Why?” She inquired.
“Niall talks about you enough,” He finished his drink.
“Does he?”
“Constantly,” He set the glass down, and Y/N laid a throw blanket on Niall’s body, biting back a smile as a certain fondness for her slumbering best friend washed over her.
“Hope I didn't disappoint.”
Harry looked at her for a second. “Not even close.”
Y/N met Niall under very, very embarrassing circumstances.
Being drunk, delirious over exam stress, and angry at your roommate (at the time) for leaving you alone at a random party you didn’t even want to go to was a dangerous combination for someone as worrisome as Y/N. Someone who was normally planned and poised—who had an elaborate calendar and couldn’t function without a to-do list—a state like that was a precursor to bad decisions and inevitable mortification.
It was fall of 2013. The house party she was at was some sort of frat or something (Y/N couldn’t tell you for sure), music thumped through the speakers, loud and booming, vibrating the paper-thin walls. She arrived there with her roommate—they were meant to remain close the whole night because this was a neighbourhood Y/N had never been to, so she was quite apprehensive. But Bella, being the flakiest person Y/N ever knew, disappeared on her within thirty minutes of their arrival.
When Y/N texted her asking what happened and where she was, Bella sent her a snap of the back of a guy's head, which was more than enough information for Y/N to deduce she’d been swept away by her long-running situationship and there was no hope for them reuniting that night. Alas, she was left to herself, where she resigned to angrily scrolling on her phone and sipping a beer to occupy herself until something more interesting came along.
Things began to go wrong when Y/N felt the beginnings of a headache prickling the edge of her brain (the most common side effect of exam season in the Y/N Handbook of Life), and she made the stupid decision to consume more alcohol hoping it would help her forget about the pain. Of course, that didn’t work, and normally, Y/N liked to say she was a smart girl, but her decisions were anything but that night. Especially when the headache amplified and she reconciled to just carrying a bottle of liquor in her hand, taking occasional swigs and stumbling about in the crowded, weirdly damp and hot hallway (not one of her proudest moments, really).
She remembered bumping into a lean figure, his fingers immediately wrapping around her upper arms to balance her as she lost her footing and almost fell flat on her face. Only she wished she’d fallen through the floor and been swallowed by the earth when she looked up and realised she was drunk and gross and messy in the arms of Niall fucking Horan.
Her heart stopped and her mouth fell open in what she thought was dismay, but was actually just nausea, because what followed her shocked admission (“Oh my god, you’re Niall Horan.”) was a bucket load of vomit, which she unleashed on his nice-looking button-up. She tried to bury most memories of that night deep in her subconscious, but the one thing she couldn’t rid from her brain was the look on his face when he realised what was happening—when she continued puking on him for thirty more seconds before passing out on his sodden chest.
That was about all she recalled from that night. The next parts were ones that Niall filled her in on when she awoke.
Apparently he ended up dragging her to the couch, where he stuck by her side and asked whoever walked past if they knew the sorry girl covered in puke asleep on his lap. He claimed mostly people just grimaced and walked away (but Y/N thinks he added that part just to toy with her feelings), and he tried getting into her phone to call a friend or something, but it was the age of passcodes—no face identification or fingerprint to unlock her screen—and Y/N was out like a light, so he wound up just taking her to his car.
He was smart enough to know not to leave a passed-out girl just on somebody’s couch (even if that somebody was his cousin’s little brother whose frat he was at). His conscience wouldn’t let him leave Y/N there all alone, and he didn’t know where she lived; all his attempts to wake her and try to get a response only resulted in her slapping her palm against his face, grumbling at him to shut up.
That was how he found himself where he was the next morning—asleep behind his steering wheel parked up on a random street with Y/N stretched out over his backseat, snoozing. He thought it would be weird to take her back to his hotel room; firstly, he wasn’t sure he wanted the odd girl knowing where he stayed (he was very careful about protecting his location ever since he found out some fans camped outside of his house last year), and secondly, he didn’t want her to wake up and freak out because she was just in some random guy’s hotel room.
However, as much as he tried to delay the freaking out bit, he was sorely mistaken when Y/N woke up and screamed as she spotted a slumbering Niall slouched over the wheel. Poor Niall was shaken to his core and was startled awake only to scream back in her face. The shrieking had to die at some point, which was when Y/N decided to ask Niall what the fuck she was doing in his car and why he had a massive stain on his blue top that was eerily similar to the one on her dress.
Niall, however, was a fucking saint and a sweetheart.
Y/N learned this about him when he urged her to calm down and carried her through a breathing exercise so she wasn’t hyperventilating like a madman and gently explained to her what happened the night before and why she wasn’t in her bed and in his backseat instead. He saw as she went through several emotions—anger, at her roommate for leaving her alone at the party; embarrassment, for throwing up all over Niall; gratitude, towards the same man for taking care of her when she was abandoned.
The reality of the situation dawned on her as she acknowledged the incessant pounding headache (which never left her last night but only got worse) echoing in her skull; the morbid aftermath of how much she regrettably had to drink.
To please her own morale, Y/N ended up begging Niall to let her buy him a new shirt and some breakfast as compensation for what she put him through. At first, he was reluctant—told her he was just being a good samaritan and it was his duty as a respectful young man not to leave a drunk girl unconscious at a frat house. It took about fifteen minutes of convincing and Y/N telling him that if he didn’t let her do this, she would hate herself for the rest of her life (dramatic, she knows, but she never claimed to be a reasonable girl) for him to finally agree to go to the mall with her where she’d “clean him right up and get his belly fed,” like he was a cat or summat.
She directed Niall to her dorm for a quick pit stop, where she grabbed a hoodie for him and a change of clothes for herself, making the effort to look at least a little bit presentable before going shopping with an international popstar.
They went to one of those smarmy stores she normally walked right past to get him a new shirt that looked like the one that she ruined. The purchase made a huge dent in Y/N’s dried-up bank account, but she refrained from saying anything at all—no price tag could ever come close to the amount of trauma and embarrassment she suffered the past night.
For breakfast she treated him to an IHOP platter, and it was then that she understood the saying that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.
It was over that greasy diner table, with a shopping bag tucked by their feet, when Y/N realised how easy it was to get on Niall’s good side. With a stack of pancakes and about four hash browns in him, Niall was opening up to Y/N like she was his long-lost sister or something of the sort. It wasn't every day Y/N was presented with the opportunity to have breakfast sitting across from the Niall Horan from fucking One Direction, so she used and abused the chance to ask him questions galore.
She started small, asking about life in the spotlight, fame, and whatnot—and when he began giving her long, rambly answers, she took that as her sign to dig a little deeper. Y/N was a nosy bitch, and she was bored—she loved the band; she loved their music—she’d regret it forever if she didn’t get any answers to all the questions she’d been wondering since she was like 18. Like what life on the road was like, what really happens in the bathrooms at the Grammys, were all the presents on the Ellen Show real or not; shit like that.
Niall was funny, and he was unfiltered—who doesn’t love talking about themselves for eons when the other person is a willing listener? He seemed more than happy to satiate her desire, eagerly giving her replies and indulging her in entertaining stories he seldom got to share with other people.
But he wasn’t going to give all his little thoughts and anecdotes out for nothing in exchange, so he drilled into her brain as well; picked at her psyche; asked her all about her degree, how she ended up in that city, what the fuck she was even doing at the party the past night, etc. Conversation with Niall was easy, and Y/N was a simple girl, so she had answers to all his questions, which entertained him enough to continue gabbing away with her as much as his heart wanted.
Y/N thought that was a one-and-done situation—she’d never see Niall again, and the whole interaction would just become a funny story she’d tell her grandkids one day when she was eighty.
What she didn’t expect was for Niall to ask her number as he dropped her back off at her dorm. Even at that point she thought he was probably just being polite. She didn’t think anything would ever come out of it—what would the Niall Horan from One Direction ever contact Y/N for? Especially considering the circumstances under which they met.
But she was utterly mistaken when the following weekend Niall texted her and asked her if she was free to join him and a few mates at a pub that was doing some sort of game night. To her surprise, Y/N was a hit with his friends (whom, before she met, she was expecting were going to be like David Beckham and Selena Gomez or something, but were actually just his schoolmates Jennie and Fred) and Niall really liked her, if his body glued to her side and his retelling of how they met was anything to go off of.
From then on, she and Niall were inseparable.
According to him, they were besties. When he was in her city, he’d swing her a text and see if she was free to see him, and that slowly progressed into him just showing up at her place unannounced with his overnight bag slung on his shoulder. Sometimes they’d go out—try a new food place or go bar hopping with their other friends—and sometimes they’d stay in and watch a movie, order food, and catch up on everything they missed in their time apart.
That’s precisely how she found herself here tonight; sitting on her living room floor with endless pages and books surrounding her, pen marks smudged all over her fingers as she manically highlighted, with Niall sat across from her on her couch. She was balls deep into exam season once more—the last one she’d ever have to go through, for which she sincerely thanked God.
Niall knocked on her door about three hours ago, blissfully unaware of her frazzled state. That’s what he got for never checking with her anymore about what she was up to before showing up at her dorm—a formality he didn’t bother to fulfill for the past year or so. While Y/N rubbed her temples fretting about a chart she couldn’t get right no matter how much she redid it, Niall locked his phone and groaned loudly.
“Fucking hell, Y/N, just take a fucking break! I’ve been here f’ages and you won’t even talk to me,” He exclaimed, chucking a pillow in her direction. Already hanging on by a thread, she barely stopped herself from snapping at him, instead resorting to throwing the pillow back at him, hard, “It’s not my fault you show up to my house unannounced! What if I wasn’t home? What if I had a hot date, or something?” She mused aloud. Y/N could only hope for that last bit to hold any truth—she found no time for romance at all in her life.
Of course, Niall knew this and abused it, “I don’t think you’ve been on a date since that bloke Danny, or what was his name? The one who said he can’t eat pussy ‘cause he’s allergic?”
With that, Y/N’s thread snapped, and a stray highlighter went whizzing in the air to hit his chest, “I’m never telling you anything about anything anymore.” This only amused Niall, who chuckled and sat up and tossed the highlighter back into her ocean of pages, “Not true. You tell me everything.”
“Well, I’m going to stop very fucking soon if you don’t let me focus on this chart.”
“Let me help.”
Y/N gave him a look. “No.”
“Why not?” Niall continued persisting. How he could possibly help her draw the logarithmic scale which even she as a fourth year engineering student couldn’t get right, Y/N was unsure—and where he got the confidence to ask her so blatantly was also lost on her.
“Because I'd like to pass.”
He scoffed. “Wow.”
“Contrary to popular belief, my suffering isn't a spectator sport.” Y/N replied, keeping her eyes on the page. Niall sighed, “Fine, then. I’ll leave you alone—as long as you promise we can get Taco Bell after.”
“Sure.” At that point, she would have agreed to anything if it meant he gave her a couple of minutes to figure out this godforsaken chart which ate away at her brain. They settled into silence after that, the sound of Y/N’s pencil scratching against the page filling her small living room. Niall scrolled on his phone, lying down on her couch with a leg thrown up the back of it like he owned the damn place.
The quiet lasted about nine minutes before he began talking again. “Have you got many exams left?” he inquired, dropping his phone on his tummy. He reached across to grab a pencil, which he fiddled with mindlessly. “Three.” Y/N hummed.
“And then you're done?”
“Then I'm done.”
“Like completely done?” He repeated.
Y/N glanced up. “Why are you asking?”
“Just wondering.”
“Niall.” He grinned, like he knew something and he wasn’t going to let up that easily. Y/N was growing more and more wary of him—this cheeky side was one she was very privy to. Enough that she knew nothing good usually came out of it. “What?” He asked innocently.
“You only use that voice when you're about to ask me for something.”
“That's not true.”
“It is.” She said. She set down her pencil so she could give him her undivided attention. Something told her what he had to say wasn’t going to be the easiest pill to swallow. He attempted to sway away from the topic, beating around the bush as he pointed at her. “See? You tell me everything and you know all my habits.”
“Oh, God.” She murmured. Lazily, she rubbed her eye with her knuckle. The tiredness she’d been accumulating for the past two weeks was unfortunately now catching up with her as she geared up for what he had to say.
“Hypothetically, if someone had a few weeks off after exams—”
“Where is this going?” Y/N asked distrustfully.
“—and hypothetically, if that someone was incredibly stressed and desperately needed to leave this room before she merged with her textbooks—”
“Niall.” She stated with her eyebrows furrowed, a pinched expression on her face. “Would they maybe consider coming away for a bit?” He said the last bit without meeting her eyes, the first telltale sign that he was nervous, which was an odd thing for her to see as Niall was hardly ever timid. Y/N blinked, “Away where?”
“With me.”
The words caught her off guard. So off guard, her brain struggled to formulate words, lips shaped a soft ‘o’, dumbfoundedly. “With you where?” She managed to stutter after looking clueless for a few seconds.
“On tour.” Niall continued. He shrugged, like he'd suggested grabbing coffee and didn’t just ask her to come hang out with him across the globe while attending the most coveted and sought-after concerts in the world, “You should come for a few shows.”
“A few shows?”
“Yeah.”
“Niall, that's in, like, actual countries.”
“That's usually how tours work.”
She laughed despite herself. She couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation. Y/N was half convinced this was all just her crazy, overworked brain trying to trick her into a scenario she desperately wanted to believe was true but wasn’t actually. “I'm serious,” he said. “You finish exams, you celebrate not having to look at another chart for a month, and you come with me.”
“Niall…” Y/N began. Her tummy was already fluttering at the prospect of his request. It was an insane thing to offer someone who was so painfully normal like Y/N, but the thought of it was exciting, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise. She’d always wondered what life on the road was like, and she was a huge fan of the band whom she’d only seen live one time when Niall gifted her tickets for her birthday last year.
He tended to keep his work and personal life very separate, so although Y/N had heard heaps about the boys and knew more about them than they probably did her, she’d never actually met them. Niall did suggest many times if she wanted a photo or an autograph or anything, but Y/N was always too shy to accept—what if talking to them wasn’t as easy as it was talking to Niall?
Besides, she really valued Niall, and she didn’t want him to think she was using him to meet the other boys and like, get ins, or something—even though the reasonable side of her knows Niall surely wouldn’t think that of her. She’d heard too many horror stories from him about people using him for fame and money, so she was careful about what she said and did around him when it came to things such as this.
“Whaaaat?” He drawled, snapping her out of her thoughts. He came down so he could join her on the carpet.
“You can't just casually invite me on tour.”
“Why not?”
Y/N’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Because that's insane!” She exclaimed, hands coming up in exasperation.
“It isn't.”
“It is for normal people.”
“Maybe. Doesn't change the fact that I want you to come.”
Y/N looked back down at her page, but the chart suddenly seemed a lot less important. Her mind was riddled with hundreds of questions, what if’s and how’s that she had a hard time conveying to Niall.
When she looked at him and the hope on his face, suddenly the idea wasn’t as daunting as it was before. He was her best friend, and he was asking so genuinely; like he really, truly wanted her there with him. Saying ‘no’ to Niall was always a difficult feat for Y/N—if she ever did, he looked at her with so much longing, like a sad kitten on the side of the road—which was exactly how he was watching her now.
“It’ll be like a free, all-expenses-paid holiday. You’ve been working so hard… just think about it,” He said, quietly, setting his lips into a straight line.
Every second that passed, Y/N felt her resolve shatter more and more. She blamed her exam-driven state for the thoughts spinning in her mind, trying to convince her that the idea wasn’t a bad one, and it might do her some good to get out of the city and far away from the piles of academic books that flooded her bedroom.
Against her better judgement, Y/N agreed to at least think it over. Across from her, Niall looked far too pleased with himself, undoubtedly already filing this away as yet another “argument” he'd won and would gleefully bring up for years to come.
-
Y/N was fucking nervous.
She kept messing with her dress, seeing how it looked when she tugged it up, then tugging it back down when she decided maybe it was a bit promiscuous. It was a black number with a square neckline that showed off her collarbones and chest, the bodice lacy and hugging her figure in all the right places. This was one of her emergency outfits—one that she could wear any day, any time, and she’d know she looks great in it.
Her makeup matched—eyeliner smudged strategically and lips painted red—but the more she looked at her reflection, the more her conscience whispered to her that maybe she was doing too much. When she sent a quick photo to Niall asking if she looked proper, he said it was perfect, and she only hoped he was being completely honest with her and wasn’t just saying that so she stopped spamming him with texts.
She paired the outfit with short heels, through which peeked her pedicured toes (which she literally only got done for this occasion) and bits of gold jewellery decorated her skin. Having worn the exact same thing before and gotten compliments galore, Y/N knew she looked good, but again, the nerves got to her, and she was now second guessing even going to this thing.
Four days after Niall made her the offer to join him on tour, Y/N agreed.
She spent those days mulling over the pros and cons, overthinking every bit and playing out imaginary scenarios in her head which were probably way too irrational to ever occur in real life. At the same time, she had to give her exams, and with that stress mixing in with her indecisiveness, her frontal lobe was fucking fried, and maybe that was what led to her finally saying yes to to join him. The decision making part of her brain was so overworked, perhaps it stopped operating entirely.
That was what she told herself—the rational version of her would never agree to something like that on a whim. At least not until considering for at least a month to get her affairs in order. But exam stress brought out another side to her. Someone with a lot less thinking capacity to make good, reasonable choices.
At last, she ended up here; worrying limitlessly about how she looked before she headed out to have drinks with Niall and the rest of the boys, plus some people from their crew. They were due to start the tour next week, and Niall suggested it was a good idea for everyone to go out that weekend to get to know each other a little bit, before Y/N would basically be living with them for the next couple of months.
Absolutely fucking bonkers, she knows—and she hasn’t failed to bring this up with Niall, who told her she’d be great, and everyone was really nice and easy to talk to; that her fears were wholly unnecessary. Hoping that was the case, Y/N gave herself a little pep talk (stupid, maybe, but it was something she saw in an article a few years ago and it surprisingly works) and made her way downstairs where Niall was standing waiting for her by his car.
“Y’look stunning,” He reassured her, leaning against the driver’s side door as she walked over. The cool wind nipped at her exposed legs, making goosebumps pimple on her skin, “It’s weird when you’re nice to me. Aberrant.”
Niall raised his brows, “Would you rather I be mean?” She crossed the hood and settled into the passenger seat, watching him get in soon after. “I rather you be honest.”
“I am being honest.”
“Really?”
He hummed. “Yes.”
“Thank you, Niall, you look lovely yourself,” Y/N plastered on a big, playful smile on her face—one that told the boy she was using humor to cope with her anxiousness for how the night would go. “Mmm. Nah, you’re right. Don’t think the nice thing works when you do it.”
She nudged his shoulder teasingly, trying desperately to act normal and not at all overwrought. Niall gave her a rundown of who would be there as they arrived—Zayn, Louis and Harry—obviously, and then Ben and Paddy who worked closely with them on the road. He kept assuring her that they were all kind and were definitely not going to gag and spit at the sight of her like she thought they would (her brain had no limits when exploring how many ways a situation could go wrong. A curse, really).
The place they all agreed to meet at had a low profile; so low that Y/N had never heard of it, having lived in the city for nearly six years now. She assumed this was so they could enjoy their time without worrying about getting photographed, which was such a bizarre concept to Y/N—something she never ever had to consider in her entire life, but maybe now was the time to do it.
And, fuck, it was back. Her mind was reeling again.
What if she got papped with the band while on tour? Would people spread nasty rumours about her? Would they dig into her past and stalk her family, like Niall told her was a real thing that happened? Or would they be kind to her? Y/N was going to lose her mind. No, scratch that—she’d already lost it. She wouldn’t be here if she had even a semblance of logic behind h—
“We’re here!” Niall exclaimed, pulling her out of her thoughts. He parked the car a little ways from a dimly lit building, though Y/N couldn’t see any sign of a bar or anything like that around. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought he might’ve gotten the wrong address, “You sure, Ni?” She asked, warily stepping out of the car. Niall came around to her side, “Yup.” His lips popped at the end of the word, but he was doing nothing to resolve her confusion—instead, interlocking their arms and walking towards an eery, lone door, “Niall…”
“It’s an underground bar. I told you that,” He stated matter of factly. Niall used the right side of his body to push the heavy door, leading Y/N inside where they went down a narrow staircase. “I didn’t think you meant literally!”
Niall merely rolled his eyes, further guiding them through a small hallway, which opened into a warmly lit room, low music drifting through the air, “Just be yourself,” He murmured softly in her ear, slipping his hand down to her forearm and giving her a comforting squeeze. Y/N was too in awe of the place to acknowledge the gesture, looking around with her lips slightly agape.
The place was charming in a way regular bars weren’t.
The walls were made of wide, beige brick, decorated with numerous posters and photgraphs—some promoting music that Y/N recognised, and some that she didn’t. There was a bar that stretched across the right side of the room, with three bartenders serving customers engaged in lively conversation. The lighting was yellow and cast a golden hue, effortlessly making the space more dreamier as it gave way to a circular platform where several private booths were occupied by various parties.
Situated at the very end of the bar table was the group of five Y/N had (by that point) burned into her memory. Embarrassingly, just from afar she recognised some of their features. There was more purpose in their step now as they walked over, and Y/N was doing everything in her power to not fidget with her fingers like she normally did when intimidated.
“Niall!” They all collectively yelled, arms out wide. Niall grinned from ear-to-ear, immediately getting swallowed into a series of hugs and shoulder slaps. Y/N lingered half a step behind, smiling politely as the group bickered amongst themselves.
“Look who finally decided to show up.” Zayn’s tone was teasing and sarcastic as he greeted the boy, “You're late.”
“Twenty minutes late,” Louis corrected.
“Twenty-three,” Zayn said.
“Christ, do any of you have jobs?” Naill replied. A dry laugh escaped his lips, clearly enjoying the banter he pretended to be annoyed by.
This was fine. Totally fine.
She could stand here unnoticed for the rest of the evening, and she’s 100% fine with that.
Her gaze jumped from person to person, finally able to put real life faces to names she only heard about. Zayn and Louis were both gorgeous (how could she ever expect anyhing else), dressed casually in jeans and a tee like they were just a bunch of normal lads having normal drinks at a normal bar. Y/N was still struggling to comprehend the sheer reality of the situation.
Ben and Paddy were engrossed in heavy conversation but broke apart to greet Niall—they were both on the older side, but Niall seemed comfortable with them (and also talked about them heaps when they were alone) so she wasn’t as apprehensive as she would usually be around middle aged men at bars. The only person missing from the table was Harry.
“Oi,” Niall suddenly said, stepping aside. “This is Y/N.”
The group's attention shifted to her all at once, and her worst nightmare was suddenly coming to life. Y/N smiled as authentically as she could without looking crazy, “Hi everyone.”
“Y/N!” Louis greeted her warmly. “Finally. Nice to put a face to the stories.” He reached out a hand for her to shake; firm yet welcoming. Zayn followed the gesture. Her jittery nerves eased a little bit when they all gave her inviting smiles and soft ‘hello’s—perhaps this wasn’t going to be as awful and damning as she was expecting it to be.
“Niall's told stories?” Y/N asked before she could stop herself.
“Hundreds,” Ben replied.
“Thousands,” Paddy added.
“Mostly good ones, I hope,” She joked. Thankfully, it landed, and the group chuckled, “Never heard a bad thing about you, love,” Zayn comforted. They’d saved two seats for her and Niall right next to each other, and there was an empty one on his other side, which she assumed was Harry’s, though there was no sign of him at the table yet.
If Y/N was being truthful, meeting Harry was the one aspect of tonight that probably scared her the most.
One; because he was a part of the band, and she was anxious about meeting everyone from the start, and two; because she (perchance) already had a small, tiny, little baby crush on him. This was something she kept entirely to herself—a secret that could never see the light of day.
It wasn’t like a massive thing though—she wasn’t in love with him or anything.
He was sort of her favorite member ever since she knew of the band, and this dated way back to before she and Niall first met. She always thought he had a boyish, magnetic appeal to him; pretty green eyes paired with deep dimples that appeared when he flashed his million-dollar smile. She liked his long, curly hair and his raspy voice which she would melt over when watching interviews or listening to the radio. It was very surface level, to be fair. Mostly physical attraction, which she would will herself to keep at ba—
“What’d I miss?” His voice sent chills down her spine as it came from behind her, causing her to turn her neck and find the source.
If you hooked Y/N up to an EKG machine, she’s certain you’d find her heart stopped beating for the second she first saw Harry, in the flesh—in all his glory. Sure, she’d seen countless photos and videos of him performing, caught off guard, smiling intentionally, looking intently at interviewers as they stumbled over their words to ask him a question; but Y/N was discovering something entirely new as she let her eyes drink him in slowly.
He was unfairly beautiful in person.
There was something devastating in the way his presence outshone everyone else at the table by a thousand miles. He was tall—taller than she expected, actually, but it did something funny to her stomach as it jumped at the sight of him looming over all the boys. He wore black jeans and a leopard print button-up (if she could even call it that; most of the top was undone) which revealed smooth, tattooed skin that Y/N wanted to run her hands over and trace with the tip of her finger. His hair was down and almost went past his shoulders; soft curls that hugged his ears and framed his face. And his face… fuck, if Y/N wasn’t already sitting, she might’ve been on the floor by now. Hary had strong yet pleasing features—green eyes that twinkled beneath the bar’s lighting; a straight nose which led down to plump, pink, and soft-looking lips which curved around a grin. He had broad shoulders and massive hands, decorated with rings on each finger, which Y/N was tempted to pull off and slide on her own, just to gush over how big they were.
“Sorry,” he said, glancing around the table, “Got caught up talking to someone.” His voice was, unsurprisingly, deep—a warm baritone that was somehow even smoother in person. “We were just getting to know Y/N over here,” Ben said, gesturing towards her with his drink in hand. Y/N schooled her expression into one of cool and calm, masking the fact that she was seconds away from forgetting her own name. She met his gaze, “Hi.”
His eyes dragged leisurely over her body, burning a hot line that ran from her face down to the tips of her toes—like he had all the time in the world to memorise her features. She tried to control her fidgeting under his watch, but it was hard to do so when his mouth curled into a cheeky smirk that had her pulse quickening again, “Hi.”
A painfully simple exchange, yet somehow she felt like she’d forgotten how conversations worked.
“Harry,” He said, the same hand she was just oogling at, now stretched towards her for a handshake. She hoped he didn’t sense her nervousness as she returned it. His palm was cool against her warm, flushed skin, a second of solace before he pulled it back. “Nice to meet you,” Y/N was being polite—cordial—the safest bet to ensure he didn’t start secretly hating her guts like her anxiety convinced her he would.
“I’m guessing Niall prepared you for us?” Harry took his seat next to Niall, patting his shoulder in greeting.
“He mostly told me you’re all normal.”
“Bit generous.”
She found herself laughing before she realised, and Harry had a pleased expression on his face when he noticed his effect on her. “Okay, don’t scare her off in the first five minutes,” Louis said, glancing at the group, “She’s still new.”
Y/N immediately shook her head. “You’re not scaring me off.”
“Good answer,” Harry said lightly. Her eyes flickered back to him and he winked slyly at her.
The small act made her cheeks go hot, and Y/N thanked herself for putting on more blush than usual that night to balance out her dark outfit. The universe must have it out for her, the way she melted and got flustered at every small thing he did—or maybe she was being delusional (which is actually the truer and more probable thing), thinking too much into the wink and the grins and whatnot. Y/N took a hidden, deep breath to compose herself.
She was grateful the conversation quickly moved on as everyone began ordering drinks and finger foods. Y/N was playing it safe, so she ordered her trademark espresso martini. Niall told her before they left that he was coming out with the intent to get shitfaced that night, so he went all in and ordered everyone shots and the strongest thing on the menu for himself. The only people who weren’t drinking were Zayn and Harry, who both went on some sort of pre-tour cleanse where they didn’t drink or smoke or eat unhealthy for two weeks before getting on the road, which she thought was admirable considering they were literally in the middle of a bar watching as their friends got looser.
As much as she hated to admit it, Niall was right, and everyone was actually really nice and kind to her. They made jokes and filled her in if something came up about which she had no clue. Louis made sure she ate and drank whatever she wanted and told her she shouldn’t be scared to hold back or anything, as management was going to cover the costs. The music was nice and the people were nice—Niall was a steady presence next to her who kept her grounded, though he was slipping away more and more as he consumed drink after drink.
She should’ve seen it coming, really.
When he began leaning on her body, telling her how lucky he was to be her best friend, and then launching into a ten-minute spiel about a new vacuum cleaner he wanted to buy, which he saw on TikTok and thought was pretty nifty. She should’ve seen it coming when he went to the toilet for the seventh time in two hours, actually, only to return and beg her to play with his hair “like she always did.”
Niall was way past being fun drunk—crossing into the dangerous category of messy drunk, with which Y/N, sadly, had a lot of experience. She realised this when he texted her to help him walk back from his eighth trip to the toilet (ifell cabn we go h o me) and Y/N had to excuse herself from the table to go find her friend, who was sitting hunched over on a random chair outside the toilets. He showed off his pearly whites when he caught sight of her, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had just been defeated by a night out.
“There she is,” he announced, lifting his arms like she was some sort of hero arriving to save him. “My favourite person in the whole world.”
“You say that nearly every time you need something from me.”
“That is not true.”
“Niall,” She warned. He paused, thinking hard. “Okay. Maybe a little true.”
She sighed. “Come on. We’re going home.”
Niall nodded ‘no’ animatedly, “I don’t want to go home.”
“Niall, you’re sitting outside the toilets.”
“Exactly. Look at this place. Memories.” He hiccuped as the last word left his lips and clutched his stomach tightly, all signs pointing towards another unfortunate vomit situation she would do anything to avoid. Her dress was too nice to destroy with the contents of his guts.
“You’ve been here for ten minutes.”
“And they’ve been the best ten minutes of my life.”
Y/N ignored all protests and leaned down to slide her arm beneath his pits and attempt to hoist him up. The sheer weight of his limp body knocked the breath from her lungs. She was a strong girl, but this was pushing the bounds of her endurance. “Niall,” she groaned. “You’re heavy.”
He hiccuped again, “I’m a man of substance.”
“You’re a man of bad decisions.”
She was halfway to convincing him to take another step, when as she heaved him up, she bumped into a hard body. The scent of vanilla and musk hit her before she even had the chance to look up, and when she did, another wave of silent curses were sent directly to the universe for its impeccable timing. “I’m so sorry,” She hurried to say, still balancing Niall on her arm.
“S’alright. Let me help,” Harry offered. Before she could protest, he wrapped an arm around Niall’s midsection and helped him upright in one swift motion—like he weighed nothing. “Harry m’buddy… love you, ‘n’ I love your hair,” Niall mumbled. He stuck his face in his curls and inhaled dramatically, “Great smell, mate, wha’ shampoo is that?” He snorted, “Shampoo.”
“I’m so sorry,” Y/N repeated again. She went to Niall’s other side and walked with Harry, who seemed to be going back to the bar. “Y’already said that. Plus, he’s my mate too—think we can share that burden,” He joked, “Takin’ him home?”
Y/N hummed, “For sure. He definitely can’t drive, though.”
Harry only nodded and stopped at the end of the bar that was closest to the exit. “Oi!” He called towards the group. Everyone turned their heads towards the three of them, “M’taking these lot home. Niall’s gone off the rails again.”
The boys yelled their goodbyes from across the room, telling Y/N how nice it was to meet her and how they’d see her again next week for tour. The words made her slightly giddy as she anticipated the weeks to come, but she didn’t dwell on it further—a giggly Niall pulled her from her reverie, “You’re my bestestest friend.”
“You’re my best friend too, Niall,” She replied. Harry used his free arm to push the door open and the cool wind nipped at their skin. Niall always got sweet on her when they drank too much, so she was used to this affectionate side of him. Especially when she reached into his back pocket to grab his keys and he laughed like she was performing the circus before him, “‘least buy me dinner first!”
“C’mon, mate,” Harry mumbled. Y/N quickly unlocked the door and held it open as Harry helped Niall inside the car. Upon the first touch of expensive leather, Niall flopped down across the backseat. “Thank you so much, I love you to the moon and back.”
Harry patted his knee and shut the door gently, “Love you too.”
Once they had him tucked safe and sound in the car, they both sighed. Y/N leaned against the passenger side, “You really don’t have to do this. You deserve to have a good time with your friends.”
Harry looked over at her, “And miss this?”
She followed his gaze to the backseat, where Niall was already half-asleep, completely unaware of the conversation happening around him.
“This?”
“Exactly.”
A laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it. Talking to Harry was easy, she discovered—like it was when she first met Niall. Conversation flowed, and he was funny and witty and dangerously handsome…. the girl had to remind herself to stay in check around him.
“Let me drive.”
Y/N would have argued with him on that but she was both too tired to do so, and also slightly tipsy herself. Harry was fully sober, and he was offering, so she softly agreed and handed him the car keys. Their fingers brushed and electricity zapped up her arm, flooding her nerves. He got the door for her before rounding the hood and getting in himself, ever the gentleman.
As Y/N settled into the seat, the weight of the situation sunk into her bones. Knowing her, if she dwelled on it too much, she’d probably start hyperventilating (and maybe crying), so she told herself to hold it together, at least until she was alone. A moment later, Harry joined her in the car. He wasted no time in turning it on and Y/N told him which way her flat was. Niall was planning to crash at hers anyways after drinks, so surely he wouldn’t freak out when he woke up on her couch. The soft sound of his snores filled the silence.
So…” Harry continued after a moment. “What’s the verdict?”
“The verdict?”
“On us.”
She smiled. “You mean the band?”
“Yeah.”
She pretended to think about it. “You’re all still normal.”
A quiet laugh left him. He was so fucking cute it drove her insane. She knew this wouldn’t be easy—touring with the band, hanging out with all of them—she expected awkward moments and feeling left out. But this… being in a car with Harry fucking Styles, who looked like a bloody model while doing the simple act of driving, with her cheeks going red and her heart doing sommersaults in her chest… this was something entirely new that she did not account for at all.
“Still sticking with that?”
“Mostly.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Mostly?”
Y/N glanced at him, a little smile on her red-painted lips, “Niall lowers the average.” Harry laughed again (she might be winning in life, actually), shaking his head.
“You asked for my honest opinion.”
“Did I?”
“You asked for the verdict.”
A beat passed. Then he glanced over at her. “Fair enough.”
The rest of the ride was spent with Harry asking her little things about herself—what uni she went to, where she was born, the kind of small talk that came naturally between two people who were still getting to know each other. Somehow, it never felt forced; it was more comfortable—paired with the occasionally loud snore that resounded from the backseat and Harry’s quiet humming of a tune she wasn’t privy to. She didn’t live far from town, so within five or so minutes he was parking up outside her building.
They worked together to wake Niall enough so he could walk a little bit on his own, and then she guided them inside and up the elevator to her flat.
It was in that elevator when it hit her—Harry Styles was just about to enter her home.
Suddenly, she couldn’t remember the state that she left it in. When she was getting ready right before going out was generally when it was at it’s messiest, so she knew whatever was waiting behind that door was not going to be easy on the eyes. She prayed he wouldn’t judge her and think her a slob as her key clicked and she pushed the door inwards.
There were a few leftover pages and books scattered on her living room table, accompanied by a candle and an array of highlighters. A stray pair of shorts were on the armrest of her couch, and her TV was still on playing Friends at a low volume (she liked to have something playing in the background while she did mundane things like cleaning, showering, or getting ready. Anything to stop her thoughts from straying into dangerous overthinking territory).
“Sorry about the mess,” she mumbled, moving the mismatched throw pillows from her couch, “Just set him down here.” It took a bit of fumbling, but a minute later Niall was curled up on her couch comfortably, still snoring. Y/N knelt to get his shoes off.
Harry glanced around the room. "Mess?"
Her cheeks warmed. "It's... lived in."
"Looks nice. You’ve a cute place."
She clapped her hands after she was done and tugged her dress down where it had ridden up a bit. “Thank you,” Y/N replied sincerely, “Would you like something to drink?”
Harry hummed, “Water?”
He looked a little odd just standing there in her girly apartment, littered with knickknacks she collected from farmer’s markets, stuff her friends and family brought her from overseas, a polaroid wall of all her favorite moments… it was almost intimate. Y/N pictured this night going a hundred different ways, but this occurring was definitely not on her list.
Slightly jittery, Y/N went into her moderately cluttered kitchen to get him a glass of water. As she walked towards him with the drink, she noted he found a seat on her other couch and was watching her intently—the same heat in his gaze from earlier at the bar when they were first introduced.
“Thanks.”
A beat passed.
“I was curious to meet you,” Harry began.
“Why?” She inquired.
“Niall talks about you enough,” He finished his drink.
“Does he?”
“Constantly,” He set the glass down, and Y/N laid a throw blanket on Niall’s body, biting back a smile as a certain fondness for her slumbering best friend washed over her.
“Hope I didn't disappoint.”
Harry looked at her for a second. “Not even close.”
Her cheeks fired up again as she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch he was on, and there was this unexpected newfound confidence in here—maybe because he spoke with her so gently, or he made her feel oddly at ease—but she felt like she could share parts of her she seldom did with strangers. “I was very nervous about tonight,” She said softly, pulling her bare knees to her chest. Harry’s eyes flitted towards the smooth expanse of exposed skin for a second before coming back up to her face, “How come?”
“I wanted to make a good impression, y’know? Joining you guys on tour… there’s going to be a lot of me.” Her hands moved animatedly as she talked—another one of her nervous tics she prayed he didn’t notice. “I think having you around will be good.” Harry replied.
Her lips parted slightly. “Yeah?”
He nodded, like it was obvious. “Yeah. Someone who’s nice and easy to talk to,” Y/N smiled shyly, which prompted him to continue. Then, like he hadn’t just made her heart stumble, he added, “Also helps that you’re very pretty.”
Y/N was slightly taken aback—she didn’t expect the conversation to steer in this direction; she always find it hard to take compliments too, so she tried not to stutter over her next words, “Oh. Thank you.” His expression softened into something teasing, his lips curving into a knowing smile. She was flustered, and somehow he seemed to enjoy this state of her, if the pleased look on his face told her anything.
“I better get going,” He eventually spoke, saving her from doing something embarrassing, like offering him her life savings or something, for making her feel the way he did. “Do you need a ride?” Y/N asked. Harry stood up and nodded no, Y/N following him as he made his way to her front door, “Thanks, but my hotel’s only a short walk from here.”
Her hands were clasped behind her back when he opened the door, looking down at her, “It was really nice meeting you, Y/N,” He said. There was genuineness in his tone that made a certain warmth spread through her, and she tried to return his sentiment as much as she could, “You too, Harry. Get home safe.”
Once the door closed, the reality of the night finally caught up with her; Harry Styles had been in her flat, called her (very) pretty right to her face, and somehow she was already looking forward to seeing him again.
-
Y/N was just about the cutest little thing Harry’d seen in a long time.
She was beautiful (of course)—that much was clear to him when he first caught sight of her at the bar that night. He’d ran into an old mate outside the toilet who yapped Harry’s ear off for fifteen minutes when he noticed Y/N and Niall enter the room from afar. How Niall kept such a pretty secret from him for so long, Harry doesn’t know, but he sure grilled his friend about it later when a couple of days passed and the night’s event sobered up.
Niall only shrugged, told him he never really looked at Y/N that way, so didn’t assume anyone else would either, but Harry thought he must be fucking crazy, because who on earth would look at a face like that and not want it all for themselves? It didn’t help that she was timid and soft-spoken, yet smart, considering the impressive engineering degree she was working toward. She was funny too—everyone loved her that night, the boys’ groupchat pinging with texts that chided Niall for keeping her hidden away all this time.
And, fuck, she kept getting all giddy and nervous when he talked to her, and it was doing things to him. Everyone always told him their first impression of him was that he was intimidating, so someone he’s just met being jittery around him wasn’t something new for Harry. Perhaps this time it made a difference to him because it was coming from Y/N—her lips parted and her eyes went round, accompanied by red cheeks when he told her she was very pretty and easy to talk to. Knowing he could make her feel like that with merely his words was a dangerous and addicting rush of adrenaline Harry wouldn’t mind getting used to.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to having her around on tour. Being on the road was one of Harry’s favorite parts of his career—he always loved travelling, and he loves performing, so being able to do those things together with some of his closest friends meant a lot to him. But they also performed with the same crew, the same exact songs to the same sea of people over fifty times, and although he adored it to no end, at some point, it does get a teensy bit repetitive.
So he hoped a fresh face like Y/N being there would bring something new to the tour—something interesting, which kept him guessing and maybe pining, because if Harry was anything after a performer, it was a fucking flirt—and Y/N had already piqued his curiosity more than he'd care to admit. Suffice to say, he was immediately on board when Niall suggested she'd be joining them for the first few months.
When night one rolled around, the team had already flown down to Sydney, Australia. Y/N was technically Niall’s plus one, so she got to ride with the boys in their private jet. It was lovely seeing her again, and lovely to know that she was even nicer than he remembered. He would have liked to talk to her on the flight if Niall hadn’t hogged her for half of it, and the other half she spent snoozing on the seat next to him.
She looked softer than she did the first time—swimming in a big gray hoodie with matching wide-legged sweatpants. Niall warned him that she wasn’t much of a flier so she might have some nerves, but she played it cool when she greeted him (still bashful, still unable to hold his gaze for longer than four seconds). Y/N stayed in the same hotel as them too, though her room wasn't an executive suite like the rest of the band. She was two floors below him (Harry knew this because Niall just about announced it as they all checked in).
They were due to perform tonight; their first show to kick off the tour. The pre-show stress sunk in when after a couple of hours where they all got to relax and catch up on sleep, they gathered backstage to prepare. The band went through their typical rehearsals, sound checks, mic checks, fittings, and whatnot—a routine he was very familiar with, having done this dozens of times before.
All while Y/N sat in the communal room, watching everything with big, curious eyes. Every now and then someone would check up on her—be it him or Niall or one of the crew—to see if she was doing okay, and she’d nod very excitedly. First timers backstage were always eager to learn and in awe of the gears that turned behind the final show; Harry thought it was adorable.
Ten minutes before they were due on stage, everyone naturally drifted towards the wings. While the band went over the setlist and the final cues with management, Harry caught sight of Y/N lingering just beyond them, watching with the same curiosity she'd had all afternoon. She smiled when she noticed him looking, and he returned it before turning his attention back to work.
The four hours they spent on stage always went by in such a blur. It was a mixture of loud, ear-bleeding cheers, an expanse of signs with funny questions and quotes on it, phones pointed in their direction and interesting outfits someone could only wear to a concert such as this one. There were introductions before they started on their first song, and then gradually performed more upbeat and subtly promiscuous ones which had everyone roaring, making the stadium feel like it was vibrating beneath their feet.
Every two or three songs, they'd pause to chat with the crowd, read signs, or pull someone into the spotlight. It was Harry's favourite part of the night. Anyone could sing songs on a stage, but these moments made the show feel personal. It was where strangers became people with stories—people who got engaged in the front row, celebrated birthdays, confessed their love, or cried through songs that had carried them through the hardest parts of their lives.
The backstage crew often watched them perform from a small VIP area to the right of the pit. It gave them ample access to the entire stage, and at the very start Harry noticed a giddy Y/N in the small group of people keenly waiting for it to begin. Throughout the show his eyes found hers, and he smiled when he caught her singing along and dancing, cheering them on, chanting Niall’s name with the crowd when the boys dared him to do a handstand as a bit.
Performing had always left him buzzing. The adrenaline settled into his veins long before he stepped onstage and refused to leave until hours after the encore. There was nothing quite like the feeling of tens of thousands of voices singing back every word, of feeding off a crowd's energy until it became your own. It made everything feel a little brighter, a little lighter—and, if he was being honest, a little bolder.
As the show ended and they jogged off of the stage, sweaty yet still quite upbeat, a number of crew people swarmed them. Water bottles and towels were shoved their way while simultaneously someone worked on getting their mics and earpieces off of them.
Y/N emerged from the hoard of people surrounding them. A small lump formed in his throat when she made a beeline for Niall and threw her arms around him without a second thought, not seeming to care that his grey T-shirt was damp. “Oh my god, you were fucking amazing, Ni!” She said, excitedly.
“Yeah? Glad you came?” Niall replied. He let his hands fall from her waist, “Fuck off you gloat! Had to show off and do a handstand too?” She teased. Harry didn’t mean to overhear—he couldn’t help himself when they were right next to him. “F’course I did.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, “Your need for attention should be studied.”
As if she had only just realised Harry was standing there too, she turned towards him, and the boy found himself oddly grateful to have her full attention. “Enjoy yourself?” He asked, twisting open a water bottle. A towel was thrown over his shoulder as they all walked towards the communal room where they’d be guided to the tour bus.
She nodded enthusiastically, “That was one of the coolest things I've ever seen.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re so incredible.” Y/N said it so fucking sweetly and sincerely, Harry could have melted at the sight of her all in a tizzy in his presence—face tinged pink and eyes hazy. This little crush was getting out of hand, and he doesn’t know if he can manage himself any longer, “Keep saying things like that, n’I might fall in love,” He said with a playful lilt. The way her face warmed told him he’d gotten the reaction he was looking for, and Harry couldn’t help the small, satisfied grin that pulled at his lips.
She blinked. “Oh. I—”
“Oi! You’re bunking with me,” Niall called, snapping the moment abruptly in half. Y/N’s eyes darted back to Harry for the briefest moment before she turned to her ever-demanding best friend.
Usually, Harry wasn’t one to hold back from a little teasing, but there was something about watching Y/N lose her train of thought that made it dangerously fun.
-
Getting high was both Y/N’s favorite thing in the world, and yet also the worst thing she could put herself through willingly.
The first hour was always the best. Her face would get warm, and everything was a little bit brighter; a little bit richer; a little bit funnier. Everything she heard sounded ten times nicer than it normally did and everything she ate was yummier. For Y/N, she got chatty when she was high—if someone was smoking with her, she’d yap with them for hours upon hours, topics ranging from the dumbest things she could conjure up, to deep, philosophical questions about the universe (which would no doubt send normal her into a midlife crisis if she thought about them too much).
In particular, she liked getting high with Niall, mainly because he matched her freak—like her, he was talkative and touchy, but for the most part he was fucking hungry. Somehow weed always made Niall starve like a Victorian child, so he’d drag her to get something to eat the moment they got through the first blunt. Plus, all senses were heightened in that state, and food just tasted so much better than it normally did when you have a slight buzz in your system.
Being high always called for messy, handheld food, like burgers, burritos, pizza etc, and Y/N was a sucker for a good meal and company, so who was she to say no to Niall when he whined at her to sneakily get takeout while everyone else settled down in the tour bus?
That’s how she found herself here—an hour after the show ended and Ben introduced the band to their tour bus, Niall pulled Y/N aside and took out a blunt from his back pocket—where he got it from, he refused to disclose, but he all but begged Y/N to smoke it with him before they got something to eat, “‘cause prancing around on stage hollowed out his stomach to no end.”
So, they zipped themselves up in hoodies, walked ten minutes down to the nearest Burger King and shared a joint in the carpark after placing a pickup order. They were there for a good two hours or so, just talking and eating, laughing at stupid things (an oddly shaped piece of lettuce in Niall’s sandwich that he believed looked like a horse) before they finally made their way back to the others.
It was a night well-spent; the concert was phenomenal, her burger altered her persona into a changed woman, and being with Niall was always easy. Y/N never had to worry about saying the wrong thing. She could be herself, which was something she valued more than she could put in words.
It was late into the night by now, so the bus was silent as they entered it. Y/N got a lot of perks being Niall’s best friend, including (but not limited to) riding in the private jet, sleeping on his bus and getting to stay in the same hotels as him. Hence, it was natural for her to bunk right below his own; a tight space which could barely fit two people (not that Y/N was planning on testing that theory out). She had a little pillow and blanket, and a small space to put her little overnight pouch which had her essentials in it.
After bidding her very sleepy best friend goodnight (another side effect of High Niall™), Y/N climbed into her own bed.
Now that was when the worst parts of getting high kicked in, and her system went into overdrive.
Unfortunately for Y/N, she wasn’t blessed with the ‘sleepy when high’ gene like Niall. For her, along with the basic five senses that were heightened, another more dangerous one took control of her conscience.
Y/N was fucking horny.
She sort of expected this to happen though—it usually kicked in about three-ish hours after smoking, and her thoughts would always drift somewhere filthy.
As someone who was generally in control of her feelings (she liked to believe this to be true), this was very risky territory. It was especially worse because this time, to her detriment, there was a certain someone on her mind too…
It wouldn’t take an expert to deduce that Y/N had garnered a real crush on Harry in the very short time she’s known him. Maybe it was because she had a bit of a liking towards him from the very start. Or maybe it was because he looked at her like that—an impish glint in his eye, a smirk on his pretty lips. The way he talked to her probably played a part as well; teasing, and constantly saying things that caught her off guard and made her flush beneath his gaze.
She hated playing the role of the shy damsel, but it was hard to conjure real, coherent thoughts when he was around. Her brain just couldn’t get used to the fact that he was there, and he was going to be there for all the shows, constantly around her, essentially living with her. And he had the fucking nerve to call her pretty to her face, threaten her that he’d fall in love with her if she complimented him again, made her feel all sorts of things—all while being on stage and dancing so wantonly—grinding into the mic, literally grabbing his bulge, smiling cheekily as he sang about sex cleverly disguised as a sweet something.
Y/N huffed an annoyed breath. Not only were her thoughts getting more and more sultry as the night went on, the little space she was in felt like it was closing in on her. Even though she was only in a cotton shirt and a pair of lounge shorts, she was too hot to be in here for even a second longer. Trying to make as less noise as possible, Y/N gently slipped out of her bunk and grabbed the small bullet vibrator tucked into her essential pouch just in case.
She was horny and it was getting out of hand—if she didn’t do something about it, she might genuinely go crazy. Also, from what she could see, everyone was still asleep; the bus was eerily quiet. Surely if anything did happen, she’d be able to get away with a little white lie or something (“No, this isn’t a vibrator, silly! Just chapstick!”).
The lighting was switched to red, matching the leather of the couch as she stepped into the big, makeshift living room. Seats lined the sides of the bus in a ‘u’ shape, looking a thousand times more comfortable than her bunk. A massive flatscreen adorned the wall adjacent to it, and a black curtain was there to separate the area from the rest of the bus if needed.
Y/N pulled it shut and flopped down on the couch. Instantly the cool leather felt amazing against her flushed skin. In fact, it felt so good, a little moan left her lips. Sensation was a big thing for her when she was riding her high, so any small thing that touched her that felt even minimally good, was instantly great.
What would be even greater, though, is a body next to her, maybe—hands sliding all over her, touching, teasing. Someone whispering in her ear, telling her how nice she felt, what they wanted to do to her. He’d kiss her too—and it’d be the best kiss of her life, actually, ‘cause he had soft-looking lips and a sinful tongue that would loop around hers and trace down her neck, and she’d perhaps feel his curls beneath her fingers; gripping a bit tightly, but she thinks he might like that.
Before she knew it, her vibrator was buzzing and she was pulling her shorts down her legs. Fuck, she knew she was taking a huge gamble, but it sort of added to the thrill. It was also way past midnight and no one was awake, so maybe she’d be fine?
All those worries left her head at the first passing of the vibrator over her aching clit. She was already soaked, given she was thinking about this for so long now. Because of this, the device slipped and slided over her pussy as she liked, and her thoughts (sadly) drifted back to Harry. More specifically, his fucking big hands that could rival the size of her face. She thinks maybe if he tried to choke her, he’d be able to cover the whole expanse of her neck. And if he fucked her with his fingers—shit, they’d reach places she never could on her own.
Would he leave his rings on or off, though? She’d like feeling them against her, YN thinks—a coolness against her leaky hole that’d make her arch and moan, scream his nam—
“What’s this?”
Y/N jumped and yelped, opening her eyes to find a very sleepy (a very real) Harry standing at the edge of the room, by the curtain. Her eyes flew open and her face probably resembled a tomato as she stuttered over her words, “Fuck, I—I was just, umm… I couldn’t,” She breathed deep, still holding her vibrator, “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you were touching yourself to me?” Harry hummed. He looked eerily calm for someone who just caught another pleasing themselves to the thought of him—fuck, was she being loud? She probably moaned his name like the idiot she w—
“Y/N?” He repeated and took a step closer. He wore a plain black shirt and plaid pants slung lazily over his hips. “I… yes,” Y/N replied. Slowly, she shut her legs, vibrator clutched tightly in her hands. Lying was probably not the smartest thing to do in this situation, hence why she stuck with the honest version of events—if she did cry his name unknowingly, lying about it would make things more awkward than they already were.
Harry took another step closer, “What were you thinking about?” His voice was heavy with sleep—a slow and deep timbre that sent shivers down her spine. Y/N hesitated. Her thighs pressed hard against each other when he came nearer, now right by where she was sprawled on the couch, “I’m sorry, I thought everyone was asleep.”
“Not what I asked,” He rested his index finger on her knee, circling once before trailing down her calf, “What were you thinking about, Y/N?” Her breath caught in her throat as Harry took a seat by her feet; if she parted her legs, he’d be tucked right where she was imagining him mere minutes ago.
“Just um… about you.” A warm hand wrapped around her calf, rubbing up and down soothingly. “What about me?” Harry held unwavering eye-contact with the girl—the kind that made her heart flutter and pussy throb at the same time. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was asking because he was disgusted or if he was enjoying this. He was always so forward and always teasing her, so maybe this was going to become another anecdote he’d reference just to toy with her? Yet somehow, she wanted more.
“Your… your fingers,” She swallowed the lump in her throat. At the same time, Harry used his other hand to push her thighs apart, “S’this okay?” He asked her softly. Y/N realised he was asking for her consent to do anything further, and the idea of that made her so incredibly giddy, she hoped she didn’t appear too over-eager when she nodded ‘yes.’
As soon as she did, Harry leaned in and kissed her right knee, “Yeah? Don’t stop on my account.” His hand found hers, the one which was holding her vibrator, and he pressed the little button at the end that brought it to life. Slowly, he used his grip to guide her hand down to her pussy, positioning the toy where she needed it most. Immediately, a soft moan left her lips.
“Naughty minx,” He hummed, pushing his hand so the vibrator throbbed against her clit, hard, “Did you want this to happen? Wanted me to find you here, all needy for my fingers and touching this slutty pussy?” Y/N could only arch her back, crying out a whiney “yes.” No other thoughts were capable of forming in her muddled brain when he continued to move her hand with his, “Already dripping,” Harry tsked.
He used his fingers to gather her arousal that dripped down to her ass and spread it over her folds as Y/N’s thighs threatened to shut around his body. The feel of his hands on her body was so much nicer than she’d pictured—Y/N was half convinced she was dreaming and her fucked-out mind was living this fantasy she created in her head.
But she was brought back down to earth when Harry suddenly removed the vibrator from her clit, bringing it down to her hole. Now this was something Y/N’d never experienced ever in her fucking life. Her vibrator was barely longer than her finger, but it hit places she’s never felt before when he shoved it deep into her pussy on the lowest setting. She mewled loudly and her back left the sticky couch in a big arch.
Harry came up and hovered over her body, using his free hand to put his middle and ring finger in her mouth. Both her holes were full as he fucked her lips as well as her pussy, shushing softly, “Don’t want to wake anyone else up, hmm?” He reminded her, stroking her tongue. Y/N could feel herself leaking, and she knows if she checked, she’d be a mess down there. Harry appeared to like it, though, as he cooed, “So fucking wet, Y/N,” He used his thumb to circle her engorged clit while at the same time grinded the toy inside of her.
Y/N was close, and she struggled to keep her body still, writhing underneath him. She had to bite down on his knuckles to hold back her sounds, but Harry didn’t seem to mind—enjoying the way her pussy squelched and wetness pooled around his fingers. “G’na come, g’na come,” She muttered around his fingers, a tad unintelligible. Harry understood, speeding up his pace, “So good, you’re so good, Y/N. Such a pretty girl—come for me,” He encouraged.
Before long, she was coming around the toy which Harry continued to thrust inside of her, his thumb never letting up on her clit. Her body bent into an impossible position as her chest pushed into his, her thighs tightened and her jaw loosened. When his fingers came out of her mouth, they were spit slicked, however he paid it no mind when he continued to help her ride her orgasm. Her body was on fire—a feeling she hadn’t felt before, ever; coming over her body like a scalding bolt of lightning.
It took her a minute to finally come down, “You’re okay?” Harry asked her as she relaxed beneath him. Apparently she wanted more, because she nodded eagerly and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer, “Yeah, yes. Fuck me, please?” She asked him. Her lips were wet and bitten red; her sensitive pussy rubbing against the fabric of his pants, “Y’sure?” Harry didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything, so he made sure to ask, just in ca—
“Yes, Harry please. Been wanting it for so long, been thinking about this ever since the bar,” Post-orgasm Y/N apparently had no self control over her words, because she was saying things rational Y/N wouldn’t even dream of. Harry was more than pleased, though, helping her take his pants off, “Yeah? Fuck—me too, baby,” He whined. Y/N stuck her hands beneath his shirt, squeezing his pecs and running her hands over his tummy, “Perfect pussy,” He muttered.
His cock sprung free since he decided to forgo boxers that night, and he wasted no time teasing her as he rubbed it up and down her slit. Y/N slid a hand into his hair and pulled, “Please, I need it.” She was so wet that his cock was soaking instantly, yet Harry didn’t slide in—taking his time circling her clit with his tip, tightly. Y/N had to bite her knuckle to muffle her sounds, her own hips coming up to grind against his dick. She could come just from this, she’s convinced, and Harry didn’t let up until she was panting, almost ready to let go when he suddenly plunged into her.
He was big—that was obvious in the way he nestled right against her g-spot after the first push. Y/N felt tears prickle her eyes—he was so deep, she could almost feel him in her belly, “S’it hurt?” Harry asked, kissing her forehead tenderly. Y/N nodded ‘no’, “Uh-uh. Good. You’re—fuck—you’re so big, Harry,” She whimpered.
Harry rolled his hips slowly, “Oh yeah? Too big for this little pussy?” This was punctuated with a full thrust, where he pulled out until his tip rested against her hole, and slammed into her again. A tear slipped down her cheek, “You can take it,” He kissed the damp spot on her face, continuing a steady pace with his hips that had her toes curling and punched small sounds from her throat.
A massive hand came to adjust her thighs better over his hips and the position opened her up for him further. Y/N could feel him everywhere; in her tummy, where he nudged against her nerves over and over again; rubbing incessant circles over her abused clit; squeezing her thighs, sliding down to her ass; wet, hot kisses against her neck that made her dig her nails into his back.
The second orgasm always arrived faster, and Harry must’ve noticed this, because he resorted to grinding into her pussy instead, making sure he was stimulating her clit inside and out. A thumb hooked into her mouth to keep her quiet. When he leaned back and spat where their bodies connected, Y/N felt the last string snap and she came again.
The small pit forming in her stomach snowballed into something spectacular; bursting when he flicked her clit beneath his thumb, and red, hot energy sizzled in her veins. Y/N saw fucking stars around his cock which was nothing short of magic in that moment while she struggled to maintain herself, panting—gasping, as she came down and Harry slipped out to release on her stomach.
He groaned into her ear and buried his face in her neck to hide the sounds he made, but it made Y/N shudder; her whole body vibrating with his voice. Harry came quite a bit. Some landing on her stomach, where he aimed mainly, and some coming all the way up to her breasts. A few minutes they stayed like that—Harry spent, lying on top of her, both of them collecting themselves and catching their breath.
A moment later he emerged from her neck, a lazy smile on his face, “So,” He started, a playful glint in his eyes, “Been thinking about this since the bar?”
Y/N blushed, pushing her palm into his annoying face, “Shut up.”
Harry giggled quietly, completely unfazed, “Heeey. You’re the one who was thinking about me.”
“I hate you,” She lied, still unable to hold his gaze after all this time.
“No you don’t, you liar.”
-
The following night they performed their second show in Brisbane.
The crowd sang for Harry—chanting his name, cheering him on, some fainting when he waved and blew them a kiss. But Y/N watched with a knowing smile on her lips—they could have the music, the performances, the version of him that belonged to everyone else.
A/N: LOLLL HII GUYS I HOPE U LIKE THIS ONE!!!!!1 I WROTE THIS IN LIKE A WEEK SO IF IT SUCKS I AM SO SOZ!!!! THE INSPIRATION STRUCK AND TBH WHEN U GUYS R EXCITED ABOUT A FIC I GET EXCITED TOO AND END UP WRITING MUCH FASTER LOL BUT IM VERY EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES AND IF U HAVE ANY IDEAS OR REQYESTS SEND THEM MY WAYY!!!1 ALL LIKES REPLIES AND REBLOGS AND ASKS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED!!! ALSOOOOOOO if you have not already noticed, I STARTED A KO-FI!!! if you would like to support me, please follow the link above!!!1 i am but a struggling uni student and i write for u guys completely for free so any and all support is very very helpful!! please do not feel obliged to do it though--only if you are comfortable!!! anyways, have a LOVELY DAY NIGHT EVENING AFTERNOON!! IMMA SLEEEEPP xxxx
I am such a sucker for bestie Niall, so this was already good off the bat, I love how we got to really get to know the relationship between Niall and Reader and how you didn't just skim past it, for the smutty plot.
I loved the slow build between Harry and Reader as well! I also find it funny how Harry needed to make sure that Niall wasn't into her before continuing his feelings/thoughts about her. Also, I found it funny how he was like well I'm not attracted to her, so why would anyone 😂
And her going to the living area on the tour bus, was crazy work ! I was so embarrassed that she went to do that, but I get it had to be somewhere he could barge in !
I love how he made sure it's what she wanted before he went further, despite the fact she was literally getting off to him, such a gentleman, and we love it !
I also love the banter she has with Niall and Harry eventually !
Hi hi my lovebugs! Part one to a two parter. This is for my LHH Lovers and the multiple people who requested for a clingy Harry - your time is here. The next part is available now on our Patreon and will be posted in two weeks on here <3
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WC- 3k
Warnings- mentions of drugs, being under the influence of said drugs, needy Harry, talk of smells/sweat (positive), biting, possessiverry
Harry always knew he liked his hair being touched. He turned into a damn purring kitten the moment someone stroked over his hair. Rolled over like a puppy getting belly rubs when someone ran their finger through it, especially when nails grazed his scalp. He'd always be down for a head rub and fell asleep quickly, melting into a puddle if someone allowed him to rest on their lap while they fawned over him.
It was no secret to Y/N that he liked it either considering he would push things from her lap and lay his head in it expectantly with a satisfied grin on his face most nights they relaxed in front of the TV. The man was shameless about his head pets, nuzzling into her tummy and getting comfortable before ultimately falling asleep each and every time.
She even sometimes braided his hair, which he especially loved. Her fingers smoothing it back and the brush going through his hair made him want to giggle when it made chills go up his spine, her finger expertly weaving the plaits into his long hair, smoothing it back and letting him lean into her hands, even if it made her job a little harder. She always complimented it and how he took care of it, though he did get in a lot of shit for stealing her hair ties and brushes when he spent the night.
It made sense that she let him get away with it, though.
Y/N was his very first relationship and he was over the moon.
He'd always been a bit picky about who he would give his romantic attention to despite being very openly affectionate to his friends and family. He valued that connection and he wanted something serious- not the casual stuff that he had seen his friends deal with. It wasn’t something he judged them for. In fact, he was the first one to be supportive of someone cutting out early because they’d pulled, but for him? It just wasn’t something he ever wanted.
There had been questioning when he had found the person he wanted when he'd met Y/N at a party his friend had been throwing. It was instantaneous for him. The fluttering heartbeat, the swell in his stomach, the gravitational pull being angled towards wherever she was in the room- it felt like his pupils had swelled into the shape of hearts, and he had been gone for since the first time they’d fixated on them.
Maybe it was a tiny bit awkward to ask her cousin, who happened to be the friend throwing the party, if she was single but it was worth it.
She was everything that he could have ever wished for.
They'd moved a bit slow, Harry telling Y/N that this was his first relationship and he'd been hopeful not to rush some of the intimate things because he wanted to learn her better and get a feel for it, and to his surprise and relief, she was more than okay with it.
After admitting to him that she had felt used by the last few relationships she had been in, it had been a relief to her as well to actually go slow. The expectation of getting into bed with someone so soon had been so tiring and frankly? Uncomfortable. Knowing that Harry wanted to get to know her had been a complete relief.
But that didn’t mean they didn’t kiss.
They kissed a lot. Harry was borderline addicted to the feeling of it, with her soft lips against his own, tasting her tongue, the intimacy of it all? He was always seeking it out. Needy for it, even, planting kisses on her skin whenever he could, because he could. She never told him off for it, leaning into it when he sponged his lips over whatever skin available to him.
To his delight, it was returned. Usually more so when they were alone, there were many times he found himself blissfully and giggly laying back as she kissed all over his face, giving him compliments that made him melt like honey onto whatever surface he was leaned on or laid up on, because fuck, it felt so good. Even as chaste as it was, he felt geared up from it because he was just so into to her.
It was what he had hoped for when he had his first and hopefully only relationship. He wanted Y/N as his wife and while he hadn’t voiced that quite yet, he sure as fuck daydreamed about it. With that certainty in his head, it made it a lot easier to want for more with her. Emotionally, always, but especially physically- and that had been slowly tiptoeing into further unexplored territory.
Y/N had told him she didn’t mind him touching her anywhere. A while in she had noticed he stopped before touching her ass and had told him that she didn’t at all mind if he wanted to grab at her. Heavy petting was encouraged, but she had never wanted to push him.
It was a good thing that after the first little grab of her ass and hands cupping over her tits that he had felt himself lean into the greedy side of him. Kissing her throat and pulling her into him, he’d heard her gasp the first time she’d felt him- but when he went to apologize with his pink cheeks and burning tips of his ears, she had told him she was just shocked at what she felt.
“It’s okay! It’s okay, H. You don’t have to stop. I just… I knew you’d be big, but I didn’t expect so much. We’re definitely gonna have to work up to me taking you.”
The words had changed something in his brain. The chemicals or wavelengths, something, because it had become something he thought about very, very often. Not only had it been a compliment that puffed up his pride, but it was also an unlocked kink of his.
It had led to their first bout of dry humping, ending with her teeth in his neck as he had continued to hump over her sticky little panties and his soaked briefs into her second orgasm and his own. The unlocked fantasy had brought out something new in him that he had a inkling he’d love, but no idea just how much- making Y/N cum.
Hearing the noises, feeling her hands on his hair, his back, clawing at him, hearing his name as she got all whiny and soft when she got to the crest of her orgasm, there was so much to love about it. Once he had a taste, he was determined to make it happen as much as possible, much to Y/N’s delight… but sometimes, he got a little greedy.
—
Going to a music festival with their friends had sounded like a lot of fun at first, really. Music, friends, rolling a little bit, camping in the RV that he had rented just for them, it all sounded like a good experience- but what he hadn’t thought about was how that would interfere with his alone time with her.
Everyone wanted to be around Y/N. She had that sort of energy about her, strangers and their friends alike. People naturally gravitated towards her because she was just that type of person you wanted to get to know- trust, out of all the people in the world, Harry understood it. He’d basically chosen her as his mate for life, like swans did, falling half in love with her just from observing her across the room the first night he had seen her.
So no, he couldn’t at all blame their mates for wanting to talk to her or dance with her- but he could be pouty about it.
When he found a chance to have her alone? He took it.
“Baby.” He was definitely visibly pouty as he grabbed at her hips, pulling her into the dark alcove as soon as the conversation had shifted and she had a moment of dancing alone. This tent was loud and his body was sweaty but he wanted to dance with his girlfriend, and if he had to result in stealing her away? So be it.
“Baby, baby, baby.” His mouth was on hers in an instant.
Thankfully Y/N seemed just as relieved, though amused at his whining. “Hi, baby.” She returned the pet name with a grin as he kissed her pretty lips, then down to her jaw, making her giggle. The things they’d taken had heightened everything, and everything felt a whole lot more sensitive, warm and glowy. His soft mouth on her skin was welcomed as she tilted her head to the side as he got to her throat, letting his teeth graze the skin.
“I’m sweaty, H!” She warned him before she felt his tongue drag up the side of her neck, nuzzling into her without a care in the world. Harry didn’t give a single fuck, to be honest. He had been starving for a taste of her and her attention since they’d gotten somewhat separated through other people vying for her attention, and a little salt on her skin would do absolutely nothing to keep him from that.
Harry had learned a lot about himself through his relationship with Y/N, and one of those things were that the thing about being attracted to the other person’s pheromones was absolutely true. There wasn’t a time he really thought she smelled bad, and he doubted she would taste bad either. The extra salt on her skin from dancing wasn’t a deterrent.
“Don’t care. You’re so beautiful and gorgeous, and you taste good anywhere n’everywhere.” He paused. “At least I imagine. Probably will, when we do that. We can do that soon I think.” His babble was happy, the whites of his eyes slightly red as he pulled back to look at her. Broad, slightly sticky palms took her face and he planted another smooch on her lips, repeating it over again until her giggles were contagious. “Real soon, yeah. I like the idea.”
“You, sweetheart, are very cute.” Y/N laughed through her words as she pushed his hair from his face. It had started out in plaits she had done for him earlier to keep it out of his face the best she could considering it was so hot out, but they’d fallen out. “What on earth did you do to get your hair this crazy, hm? Head bang that hard?”
His airy laugh was almost muffled by the bass of the music but she could still make it out. “Dunno. Probably I’ve been more focused on tryin’ to get you alone but people keep tryin’ to talk to us.” His smile fell slightly before he put it back up, leaning his forehead against hers. Their skin was both humid, but neither cared.
"They all like you better than me." He pouted again, his hands sliding down to her waist possessively as he nuzzled into her neck again, leaving kisses wherever he could reach. The drugs had made him extra affectionate and honestly, a little needy for attention- and that was saying a lot considering he usually didn’t at all care about PDA and hanging all over her on a regular Tuesday with the only thing in his system some ashwagandha and his multivitamin.
It was easy to get worked up when she was involved and there were no substances, but pairing the influence and the fact that he was most definitely suffering from withdrawals of her attention made a dangerous combination.
"I don’t blame ‘em… but I wanted you all to myself tonight." He whined, his fingers digging into her sides as he swayed them both to the music that was filtering through the tent. “Want to kiss, a lot.” Sticky mouths pressed together again, laced from their over priced coconutty sweet drinks they’d gotten before entering this set before he could continue, Y/N indulging in him as she let herself lean her weight into his body. “Mhm.. like that. And… More, maybe. I feel so good.”
They’d talked about it beforehand, what their limits would be. The only one he could think of was penetration, but only because he wanted his first time to be in a slower, more relaxed environment. Anything else was on the table. Y/N had made him a very eager man, and if you’d told him months ago before he met her that he’d be this ready to do it all he would be very suspicious.
Now it was taking up a very big portion of his mind.
“We can do whatever you want.” Y/N was going at his pace and he appreciated that. The rush was never felt, and no shame whatsoever- especially after he had told her that he had been nervous to tell her he wanted to go slow initially.
People assumed a lot about him being some sort of sexual deviant based off of the way he looked. Tattoos, muscles, and a self admitted smug attitude at times, all painted a picture of someone who knew a thing or two about being filthy- and while some of those assumptions were true in his mind, he hadn’t exactly worked the town.
He wanted to learn Y/N’s brain without the distraction of her body, because…. fuck, it was a distraction he knew he’d been pulled to.
Now, he felt more comfortable. Being touchy and grabby, full on handsy was accepted and truthfully enjoyed by her, and he had let himself get further and further with her in regards to grinding and talking lowly against her ear when they were in the midst of making out. He’d been learning the things she liked, and he knew that it was going to be hard to keep himself from wanting more.
“Want t’make you cum.” He admitted, mouthing against a new spot on her neck, lapping up the salt and nudging his lips against her skin, letting his teeth graze under her ear. “Can I? Later?” His breath washed over her skin and he tried not to get too giddy when he felt the goosebumps form on it. “With my mouth. Cause… honestly, I’ve been dying t’do it all damn day. All month. Longer. You always smell so good when we play around, and I just know she’s so fuckin’ pretty. I want to see her, get a good look before I lick you up. My mouth waters when I think about it, honestly.”
Without a second thought, his mouth decided to let her know exactly what he thought about. “Would you pull my hair when m’down there? I’ve always wanted that. Since the day we actually met, cause you complimented my hair and I felt like such a pervert for imagining it… but I did. Want to feel you tug on it and squeeze those perfect thighs against my head to keep me there. Think I’d be happy to get you to smother me with it. Cause I know you taste so good.” He groaned, pulling her into him enough that she could feel him against her tummy. “Would you get grossed out if I want to be wet with it all over my face?”
Y/N let out a shocked little laugh, shaking her head to the best of her abilities before she felt his teeth grab onto skin and the suction of his mouth, intent on leaving a mark. Her nails dug into his biceps as she leaned into him, licking her lips before responding. “N-No, I wouldn’t be grossed out. No one’s ever seemed so… enthusiastic about eating my pussy before, but if you want to do that I’ll give you whatever you want.”
When he pulled back from his little love bite, the skin throbbed from his suction but her poor cunt throbbed harder when he looked down at her with a darker look on his face that she was only familiar with finding during one thing- jealousy.
Harry wasn’t overly jealous in a toxic way. He got pouty like he had been before about their friends wanting her attention, but he never took her away from it. He gave her space when she needed it. He knew she was close with other people and encouraged her to go out with her own mates.
But when it came to the reminder of her past partners? Something else popped out in him. He didn’t like that at all.
Maybe Y/N was the toxic one for wanting to see what he would say to that, but the reward was exactly what she wanted.
“Well no one else is gonna get t’lick your pussy but me, ever again. Okay? Doesn’t matter if they weren’t as enthusiastic as they should be, because they’re fuckin’ stupid for ever having the honor of being there and not keeping you.” He cupped her chin, squeezing lightly. “You’re gonna have to drag me away from it. You deserve to know just how much I want to do it. Love making you feel good. S’my favorite thing… so I think that we’re done here for now.” He looked over her shoulder, peering from the little alcove he got her into.
“We’re going back to the RV and I’m gonna show you how dumb they were, and how serious I am about never letting you go. Just need to get past all those people who want t’hog your time.” When his eyes met hers again, she felt the shiver through her spine as a new, more dominant and very exciting side of him was exposed in the strobing lights. “We can dance some more tomorrow. I’m done sharing you tonight. It’s time for us to be alone.”
This was cute. Then It was hot, then it got even hotter 🫠
I like the slow pace, if I'm being honest, but also the fact that the tension kept growing the more you kept reading ! It was very naturally made between the characters, and I rarely see Harry or any male characters being inexperienced or the one that's the virgin be written. Usually, it's the female reader, so this was a nice change !
I also am a sucker for dry humping, I find that to be the hottest thing ever and the fact you wrote that in here, I was not prepared for it !
I love their dynamic, too. I love how he's needy, but not too needy that it annoys me, but yes, I LOVED IT
FAVORITE SCENES
He'd always been a bit picky about who he would give his romantic attention to despite being very openly affectionate to his friends and family. He valued that connection and he wanted something serious- not the casual stuff that he had seen his friends deal with. It wasn’t something he judged them for. In fact, he was the first one to be supportive of someone cutting out early because they’d pulled, but for him? It just wasn’t something he ever wanted. – No because I, too, am picky, so understandable, lol
⋆˚꩜｡
She was everything that he could have ever wished for. – please 😪
They'd moved a bit slow, Harry telling Y/N that this was his first relationship and he'd been hopeful not to rush some of the intimate things because he wanted to learn her better and get a feel for it, and to his surprise and relief, she was more than okay with it.
⋆˚꩜｡
It had led to their first bout of dry humping, ending with her teeth in his neck as he had continued to hump over her sticky little panties and his soaked briefs into her second orgasm and his own. The unlocked fantasy had brought out something new in him that he had a inkling he’d love, but no idea just how much- making Y/N cum. – YUM
Hearing the noises, feeling her hands on his hair, his back, clawing at him, hearing his name as she got all whiny and soft when she got to the crest of her orgasm, there was so much to love about it. Once he had a taste, he was determined to make it happen as much as possible, much to Y/N’s delight… but sometimes, he got a little greedy.
⋆˚꩜｡
People assumed a lot about him being some sort of sexual deviant based off of the way he looked. Tattoos, muscles, and a self admitted smug attitude at times, all painted a picture of someone who knew a thing or two about being filthy- and while some of those assumptions were true in his mind, he hadn’t exactly worked the town.
⋆˚꩜｡
He wanted to learn Y/N’s brain without the distraction of her body, because…. fuck, it was a distraction he knew he’d been pulled to. – LOVE HIM, LOVE THIS
⋆˚꩜｡
Maybe Y/N was the toxic one for wanting to see what he would say to that, but the reward was exactly what she wanted. – I mean same.
“Well no one else is gonna get t’lick your pussy but me, ever again. Okay? Doesn’t matter if they weren’t as enthusiastic as they should be, because they’re fuckin’ stupid for ever having the honor of being there and not keeping you.” He cupped her chin, squeezing lightly. “You’re gonna have to drag me away from it. You deserve to know just how much I want to do it. Love making you feel good. S’my favorite thing… so I think that we’re done here for now.” He looked over her shoulder, peering from the little alcove he got her into.
“We’re going back to the RV and I’m gonna show you how dumb they were, and how serious I am about never letting you go. Just need to get past all those people who want t’hog your time.” When his eyes met hers again, she felt the shiver through her spine as a new, more dominant and very exciting side of him was exposed in the strobing lights. “We can dance some more tomorrow. I’m done sharing you tonight. It’s time for us to be alone.”
Summary: Stranded on the side of the road with a broken-down car and no money to fix it, you swallow your pride and call Harry, who comes to your rescue without hesitation. He's determined to cash in the favor, though. dad's friend!harry styles au
Warnings: dad's friend!Harry, slight age gap (mid twenties and early thirties), light dubcon/coercion theme, brief handjob, oral (m!receiving), fingering, rough sex in a car, cum swallowing
A/N: i've added a dubcon warning because though it is consensual, harry is rather manipulative in this au. if you're on my tag list but don't want to be tagged in future dubcon fics, just message me.
Word Count: 3,046
...
''Fuck!''
The engine sputters twice, then dies completely with a pathetic cough, leaving you stranded in the middle of a quiet, winding road surrounded by nothing but dark trees and the faint glow of distant streetlights.
The silence that follows is almost deafening. You sit there for a long moment, hands still gripping the steering wheel, staring at the dashboard as the warning lights blink mockingly.
Of course this would happen tonight. Of course your ancient, barely-held-together car would choose the absolute worst possible moment to give up on you: on a deserted back road, hours after dark, with your phone battery already dangerously low and your savings even lower. You let out a shaky, frustrated breath.
Your parents would never let you live this down. You've been the black sheep of the family ever since you moved out, the disappointment amongst your siblings, the one who refused to follow the carefully paved path your parents had laid out since birth: the prestigious university, the respectable career, the advantageous marriage. While your older sister married into old money and your brother climbed the corporate ladder with the family name opening every door, you had chosen the messy, uncertain route of trying to make it on your own.
Now, at twenty-six, you were barely scraping by in a tiny apartment, working two jobs just to keep your head above water, and too stubborn to ask your parents for help. They already looked at you with that mixture of pity and disappointment every time you saw them. Calling them now would only confirm what they already believed: that you couldn't handle life without their money and influence.
So you don't call them.
Instead, your thumb hovers over Harry's contact. Harry, your father's friend from the country club, a connection that still feels strange even after two and a half years. Harry is only thirty-four, nearly twenty years younger than your dad, yet the two of them bonded quickly over golf, business talk, and a shared dry sense of humor.
He'd been introduced to you at one of your parents' garden parties when you were twenty-three, fresh out of a bad breakup and feeling painfully out of place among their polished social circle. Harry had been kind to you that night, attentive without being condescending, and over the years he'd become someone you could text casually, someone who always answered. He was successful, charming, and unfairly attractive, with a calm confidence that made every woman look twice.
You'd always harbored a quiet, guilty little crush on him, but you pushed those thoughts away because he was your father's friend.
Tonight, though, pride loses to desperation. You hit call.
Harry answers on the second ring, his voice warm and slightly concerned when he hears the shakiness in yours. He doesn't hesitate. ''Stay in the car with the doors locked. I'm coming to get you.''
Forty minutes later, headlights cut through the darkness. Harry's sleek black car pulls up behind yours. He steps out looking effortlessly put-together despite the late hour: dark sweater, jeans, curls slightly messy. He walks over to your window first, checking that you're okay before inspecting the dead car with a furrowed brow. His presence feels grounding, safe in a way that makes your eyes sting with relief.
''You alright?'' he asks once you're settled in his passenger seat, the heater blasting warm air that slowly thaws your chilled fingers. The scent of his expensive cologne filling the car makes your stomach flutter. He glances over at you as he starts driving, one hand loose on the wheel. ''That car's been on its last legs for a while, huh?''
You nod, sinking deeper into the leather seat, suddenly exhausted. When the city lights grow closer and he pulls up in front of your building, Harry turns off the engine and looks at you properly, worried eyes searching your face in the dim glow of the streetlights.
''Hey, why didn't you call your parents or your sister?'' he asks. ''You know they would've sent someone.''
You hesitate, fingers twisting in your lap.
The weight of the day, the humiliation, the constant feeling of not being enough, it all finally cracks something open. You tell him the truth. About the money troubles. About refusing to lean on your family's name and wealth like your siblings have done your whole life. About how exhausting it is to always be the disappointment, the one who chose independence and is now paying for it in every possible way.
Harry listens without interrupting, his expression unreadable. ''I can help with the car,'' he says softly when you finally fall quiet. ''Cover the repairs. I'd be happy to help out.''
''Are you sure? It might take a while until I'm able to pay you back,'' you say, surprised by his generosity. ''My jobs barely cover the rent.''
''Well,'' he drawls, reaching over and resting his hand gently on your thigh, the touch warm through your jeans. His thumb strokes once, slow and deliberate. ''Maybe you could repay me some other way.''
You sit frozen in the passenger seat, the warm air from the heater suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy against your skin. Harry's hand remains on your thigh, a solid, warm weight that should feel comforting but now carries an entirely different meaning.
Your mind races to catch up, desperately trying to convince yourself that you must have misunderstood him. This is Harry. Your father's friend. He's just offering to help. That's all. Right?
But the way his thumb slowly strokes along the seam of your jeans, the way his green eyes stay fixed on your face with quiet intensity, makes it impossible to deny what he's suggesting.
''I... Harry,'' you start, voice shaky, a nervous laugh bubbling up. ''You can't mean... what I think you mean.''
He doesn't pull his hand away. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you with that calm, measured expression that always makes him seem older and more in control than his thirty-four years. There's quiet hunger in his eyes, though it seems almost gentle, like he's been waiting for the right moment to say this.
''I think you know exactly what I mean,'' he says softly, voice low and smooth. ''You can't tell me you've never thought about it. The way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention... the way you bend over at those family dinners, wearing those little dresses that ride up your thighs. I notice, sweetheart. I always notice you.''
Heat floods your face. You have thought about it, more times than you'd ever admit. Harry has always been stupidly attractive, with an effortless charm and shoulders that are almost too broad for his shirts. But he's your father's friend. The taboo of it has always kept those thoughts locked away, buried under layers of guilt and denial.
''I give you the money to fix your car,'' he continues, leaning a little closer across the center console, his breath warm against your cheek. ''No strings, no awkward questions from your parents. In return... you give me what I want. Everybody's happy. It'll stay just between us.''
Your heart pounds so hard you can feel it in your throat. Part of you wants to push his hand away and tell him no. But another, much louder part, the one that's been exhausted by money stress, by feeling like a failure, by the quiet, shameful crush you've harbored, stays silent.
Harry seems to sense your internal struggle. He leans in further, lips brushing just below your ear in a feather-light kiss that sends goosebumps racing down your arms. His voice drops to a husky whisper, filthy and coaxing all at once.
''Oh, I'd fuck you so good, baby,'' he murmurs, mouth grazing the sensitive spot just beneath your earlobe. ''I'd take my time with you. Stretch this tight little pussy open with my big cock until you're shaking and full and begging for more. I'd make you feel so good you forget every shitty thing your family says about you. Wouldn't that be nice? Letting someone take care of you for once?''
His hand slides higher up your thigh, dangerously close to where you're already growing shamefully wet. His touch is slow, giving you every chance to pull away. But he doesn't stop talking, painting vivid, tempting pictures with that low, raspy voice.
''You don't have to decide right now,'' he adds gently, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes again. There's real warmth there beneath the desire. ''But think about it. I like you. I've always liked you. This could be... mutually beneficial. And very, very pleasurable.''
Your heart hammers against your ribs as you sit there in the passenger seat of his car, Harry's words heavy in the warm, confined space of the car. His hand remains on your thigh, thumb still tracing those slow, maddening circles that make it impossible to think straight.
Every rational part of your brain screams that this is wrong: he's your father's friend, a little older than you, and this entire situation is steeped in a power imbalance you shouldn't ignore. But the exhaustion of the night, the constant financial stress, and the quiet, shameful attraction you've felt toward him for years all tangle together into a dangerous pull towards him. Your mouth feels dry. Your pulse is everywhere.
Finally, on a shaky exhale, you whisper, ''Okay... What do you want me to do?''
The moment the words leave your lips, something shifts in Harry's expression, a flash of dark satisfaction and genuine heat crossing his face. He doesn't rush. He takes your hand gently in his, almost tenderly, and guides it across the center console until your palm presses against the hard, unmistakable bulge straining in his jeans. The heat of him radiates through the denim, thick and intimidating, and your breath catches sharply at the sheer size of what you're feeling.
''Start here,'' he murmurs, voice low and coaxing as he presses your hand firmer against him, encouraging you to rub slowly up and down the length. ''Just like that, sweetheart. Such a quick learner. Feel how hard I already am for you? That's what you do to me every time I see you.''
Your fingers tremble slightly as you obey, palming him through the fabric, feeling him twitch and thicken under your touch. Harry lets out a quiet groan, letting his head tip back against the seat for a moment, eyes half-lidded. The sight of him like this, usually so composed and in control, sends a forbidden thrill through you despite everything. He's attractive. Dangerously so. And some deep, hidden part of you has wondered what this would feel like for longer than you'd ever admit.
After a few moments, he reaches down with his free hand and unzips his jeans, pulling himself out. His cock is heavy and flushed, curving slightly upward, the tip already glistening. He wraps your fingers around him again, guiding your hand in slow, firm strokes exactly the way he likes it, showing you the rhythm, the pressure, teaching you without words. His breathing grows shallower, and you can't help the way your own thighs press together at the feeling of him hot in your palm.
But Harry wants more.
His hand slides to the back of your head, fingers threading gently but insistently into your hair. He applies steady pressure, guiding your face down toward his lap. You hesitate for half a second, the reality of what's happening hitting you again, but your mouth waters at the thought. You lean over the center console, body bending awkwardly across the gear stick, and take the tip of his cock into your mouth.
Harry groans deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest. ''Fuck, that's good,'' he rasps, pushing your head down a little further, sliding more of his thick length into your mouth. Oh yeah, just like that, sweetheart. Take a little more for me.''
The position is uncomfortable: your body twisted awkwardly over the console, neck strained, the gear stick digging into your ribs. But Harry's grunts compel you to keep going. You shift on your own, crawling carefully over the console despite the cramped space, maneuvering your body into the footwell in front of the driver's seat until you're kneeling between his spread thighs. Your muscles already ache from the awkward angle, knees pressed against the floor mat, but the new position gives you better access.
Harry's eyes darken with lust as he watches you settle there. Both of his hands come to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks almost tenderly even as he starts thrusting shallowly into your mouth.
''Look at you,'' he groans, voice wrecked and filthy. ''On your knees in my car, sucking my cock like a good little slut. Been thinking about this mouth for so fucking long. That's it, relax your throat, baby. Let me fuck it. You can take it. I know you can.''
He starts thrusting deeper, careful but relentless, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat with every push. Broken moans fall from his lips as he uses your mouth, hips rolling up to meet you.
''Fuck, your throat feels so tight... such a perfect little cocksucker. You like this, don't you? Letting Daddy's friend use your mouth after he bails you out. So fucking dirty... but you're dripping for it, aren't you?''
His grip on your face tightens slightly as his thrusts grow a little faster, a little more desperate. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, getting closer, his breathing ragged.
He pulls you off his cock, strings of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the flushed head as you suck in desperate lungfuls of air. Your jaw aches, your eyes are watery, and your chest heaves with the effort of trying to catch your breath. Harry watches you with dark, satisfied eyes, his thumb gently wiping the corner of your mouth before he grips your waist and helps maneuver you into his lap.
The position is cramped in the driver's seat, your knees pressing into the leather on either side of his thighs, but the closeness makes everything feel more intense. You're almost shy suddenly, hands resting tentatively on his shoulders as you straddle him, cheeks burning under his heavy gaze. Harry doesn't rush you. He slides his hands up your sides, slow and soothing, before unzipping your jeans and slipping one hand inside. His fingers rub over the soaked fabric of your underwear, pressing the material against your swollen clit in lazy circles.
''Look at you,'' he murmurs, voice condescendingly sweet as he watches your face. ''Already so wet for me, sweetheart. Been thinking about this tight little pussy for longer than I should admit. You're going to take my cock so well, aren't you?''
You whimper, hips twitching against his hand despite the embarrassment flooding through you. Harry keeps his eyes locked on yours the entire time, intense and unwavering, as he pushes your underwear aside and slides two thick fingers inside you. He curls them perfectly, stroking that sensitive spot while his thumb continues rubbing your clit. The wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you fill the car, obscene and loud in the confined space.
''That's it, baby,'' he coos, filthy but tender. ''Ride my fingers like a good girl. You're so fucking tight... going to feel incredible wrapped around my cock. Been dreaming about stretching this pretty pussy open.''
Your head falls forward against his shoulder as the pleasure builds, but Harry catches your chin and tilts your face back up, forcing you to maintain eye contact. ''Don't hide from me,'' he whispers. ''I want to see how desperate you look when I make you come on my fingers first.''
He works you expertly until you're shaking, thighs trembling around his hips. You come with a broken moan, clenching hard around his fingers as pleasure crashes through you. Harry groans at the feeling, kissing you deeply while he rides you through it.
He pulls his fingers out, quickly shoving your jeans and underwear down your thighs as far as the cramped space allows. Then he lines himself up and slams into you in one brutal thrust. You cry out sharply at the sudden stretch, nails digging hard into his shoulders as your walls struggle to accommodate his thick length.
Harry barely gives you any time to adjust. He grips your hips tightly and starts rutting up into you with raw, animalistic need, his thrusts jolting your entire body. Each snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, and he takes full advantage, yanking your top and bra down roughly to free them. His large hands squeeze and knead your breasts possessively, for his own pleasure more than yours, thumbs brushing roughly over your nipples before he leans in and takes one into his mouth.
He sucks hard, teeth grazing and biting down just enough to make you hiss, the sharp tug intensified by every powerful thrust of his cock. The car rocks slightly with the force of his movements, windows fogging up as your moans and his grunts fill the small space.
Harry reaches between you and rubs your clit again, fast and firm. ''Come on my cock, baby,'' he growls against your breast. ''Want to feel this tight pussy milking me when you fall apart.''
You come hard for the second time, crying out as your walls clamp down around him. Harry follows moments later with a broken moan, burying himself as deep as possible while thick ropes of cum spill inside you. The warmth of it makes you whimper, oversensitive and spent.
He stays inside you for a long moment, panting against your neck. Then he slowly pulls out, watching with dark fascination as his cum starts to dribble from your used pussy. He gathers some on two fingers and brings them to your lips, pushing them inside without warning.
You taste the mix of both of you, dazed and breathless.
Harry smiles, almost gently, as he zips himself back up.
''Okay,'' he says casually, voice still a little rough. ''You go on your way now. I'll wire you the money for the car tomorrow.''
...
thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕
UM HELLO ?! I HATE THIS MAN, BUT I was so down for the smut, very very very very very very hot.
I didn't think I would be into it as I was ! BUT I was intrigued, I've never been into dubcon, but I like the lightness of it. I like that it was established she's always wanted to with him, but never did because of their dynamic, so it was readable to me.
I also love a man who's vocal and the fact he was talkative and vocal. YUM 🤧
I hope there's more on them ! This would be a great, like one-shot series ! I just know they could end up having angry sex at one point or something.
FAVORITE SCENES
Harry barely gives you any time to adjust. He grips your hips tightly and starts rutting up into you with raw, animalistic need, his thrusts jolting your entire body. Each snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, and he takes full advantage, yanking your top and bra down roughly to free them. His large hands squeeze and knead your breasts possessively, for his own pleasure more than yours, thumbs brushing roughly over your nipples before he leans in and takes one into his mouth. – sucker for a bit of nipple play 🙂↕️
He sucks hard, teeth grazing and biting down just enough to make you hiss, the sharp tug intensified by every powerful thrust of his cock. The car rocks slightly with the force of his movements, windows fogging up as your moans and his grunts fill the small space. – This was overly hot, so like wtf! I literally melted !
⋆˚꩜｡
Harry reaches between you and rubs your clit again, fast and firm. ''Come on my cock, baby,'' he growls against your breast. ''Want to feel this tight pussy milking me when you fall apart.'' – YEAH okay !
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 @flowerndpeaches-readingnook - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
