something old unedited teeny blurb bc how could i ignore this
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The bathroom tiles were cold on your bare feet, the slight shock to your system feeling like the only thing keeping you awake right now as you leaned one hip against the counter, running your toothbrush under the sink.
“Done good today, didn’t we?”
His voice rumbles over the running water and you turn towards the sound, seeing him propped up against the doorway, tan arms crossed in a way that makes his biceps bulge and your eyes slowly drink in the sight of him. The hair starting to curl, the tan he’s somehow developed in the last few days, his tired eyes and the smirk on his face, enjoying your ogling.
“Yeah, we did.” you softly agree and his smirk softens as he pushes off the doorway and walks over to you. Your eyes follow him in the mirror as he pulls you back against him, ignoring your disgruntled sound at being pulled away from the toothpaste. “I’m knackered.”
He hums in agreement, nuzzling his face into your hair. The two of you had decided to give all the parents the night off tonight, the third night of a ten day family vacation in Italy with both your families, some friends and favorite cousins included. You sent them off to a fancy boat ride followed by dinner, encouraging them to explore the city while you watched the kiddos.
The family was growing, in the most beautiful way. For the last few years, it’s felt like a new baby was born every year and suddenly the babies were no longer babies, leaving you both in charge of four toddlers and one very precocious eight year old.
You close your eyes, leaning into Harry’s hold and can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as the memories of the day whirl in your mind, getting to see him in his absolute element racing around the backyard chasing everyone while they squealed in delight, how playful yet very intensely careful he was in the pool while you all swam along the shallow end, the look on his face when Charlotte completely fell asleep in his arms despite insisting over and over again that she was not tired.
He presses a kiss to your cheek as he reaches for his own toothbrush and toothpaste, keeping his chest pressed to your back and holding his toothbrush under the faucet until you turn it on for him, then he spreads toothpaste on his brush and yours. You stand there brushing your teeth in tandem and you reach down to pull up your phone.
“What are y’ doing?” he garbles, his mouth full of toothpaste as he squints at your phone and you snap a pic.
“Taking a pic as proof that we survived.” you say, putting your phone down and spitting out the toothpaste, running your brush under the water and placing it next to the sink. “And are getting ready for bed at…” you check your phone… “...nine pm.”
He huffs a laugh, quickly spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his brush off. He wipes his hands on a nearby towel before bringing them to your waist, pressing you back against the sink as he presses himself against you.
“You were so great with them today,” he murmurs, minty breath cascading against your own. “Best aunt ever.”
You feel warm down to your toes. Today was so fun, chaotic and hectic at times but ultimately you got to hang out with the greatest brood of nieces and nephews a girl could ask for. And you caught him staring, he knows you did. The way his eyes lingered on you when you held Jackson in your arms after he took a rough tumble on the grass, how his eyes lit up at the goofy witch character you played chasing the girls around the house. You’ve known seeing you with kids has always had an effect on him but today felt different, today felt real.
You’ve had conversations about having your own, many times. It’s something you both want desperately, something you know he’s been wishing for since he was about twenty. Fatherhood. Having kids of his own. Having kids with you. And today it felt like yeah, you could do this. The timing of it has always been dependent on his schedule because he wants to be here for it all, be with you for it all and maybe that time is coming.
“Yeah, well, their uncle isn’t too bad either.”
“Make a good team, don’t we?” he asks softly, his hand coming up to cup your face, thumb brushing along your cheekbone.
“Yeah,” you agree, just as quiet, just as soft. The two of you just stare at each other, not saying a word, somehow reading every thought passing in each other’s minds. “Think we’d be really good at this.”
You see the way the words hit him, how he’s already nodding before you finish the sentence, started nodding when you said ‘good’, already in complete and utter agreement. He swallows against the emotion, blinking rapidly a few times before pressing his lips to yours.
He kisses you so tenderly, his thumb still drawing circles on your cheek as he holds you close. Kissing you with everything he has, like you’re the most precious thing to him. You love him, you love him, you love him, no thoughts but that circling through your mind as you lose yourself to his taste, his touch, his tongue.
He pulls back slowly, letting you both catch your breath as he presses his lips to your cheek, your temple, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. Your arms come up to rub and down his back before tightening around him.
“It’s all I want.” he murmurs against your temple. “This life with you.”
And yeah, that’s just it, isn’t it. It’s all you want, all you’ve ever wanted and you still cannot believe you get to wake up everyday next to him, as his wife. This life you’ve always dreamed of actually coming to fruition.
You reach up and pull his face back down to yours, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and hoping your lips can say everything your mind can’t right now. His hands come down to wrap around your thighs, lifting you up on the counter as he steps in between your legs, smiling against your mouth when your legs wrap around him. It’s not going to go any further than this, not right now, when you’ve got baby monitors to check on and drunk family members coming home any minute but you’re not thinking about any of that at the moment, his hands squeezing your skin, his kisses so tender you can feel tears pricking your eyes.
All that matters is this man, your man, with his mouth against yours and your heart in his hands. Yours, yours, yours.
---
a/n: a series of something old extras followed by the epilogue are coming eventually ! kinda want to post all the stuff ive had in my drafts over the years before we wrap this baby up for real for real (things ryan has been saying for the last two years and counting)
short & sweet & unedited new years blurb from the something old universe
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The frigid January air whips through the wind, making your heavy winter coat feel like it's barely a t-shirt. You look out across the pond, the sun barely rising over the clouds, its vast beauty making your breath catch in your throat. There’s really no place like home.
January 1st, 2025. How the fuck did that happen?
You feel solid weight against your back as he wraps an arm across your chest, pulling you against him and leaving his arm there, holding you close. He ducks his head to nuzzle into your neck, taking a deep breath as his hand tightens on your shoulder.
“‘S no skinny dip in the Caribbean, is it?” he mumbles against your neck and you hum in agreement, the memory of that night from your honeymoon making warmth flow through you. The haziness from the multiple drinks, the look in his eyes when you slipped your bikini top off, how tightly his hands held you once he dove in after you. Not feeling so cold anymore.
He uses his free hand to tilt your face back towards his, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss. You let yourself get lost in it, this mouth you’ve been kissing for almost 5 (!) years now. The way he always pulls you just that much closer as his tongue slides across yours, the pleased sounds he makes into your mouth when you kiss him back just the way he likes.
“Happy New Year”, he mumbles against your mouth and you grin, muttering your own “Happy New Year” back before pressing one more kiss to his mouth.
He pulls you back against him in a squeeze before stepping back and starting to unzip his jacket.
“Y’ ready?” he asks and you nod, mirroring him as you take your own jacket off, instantly bouncing from one foot to the other when the cold hits your bare skin, the swimsuit doing little to keep you warm in the moments before. He takes your jacket from you, laying it on the chair next to his, placing it with its back against the seat so you will be able to instantly pull it on when you get out.
He pulls his hat off and leans over to pull yours off as well, lips quirking when he sees you're still doing the small bounce move. He places both hats on the chair and comes up behind you, your bouncing attempts to keep warm instantly ceasing when both of his arms wrap around your chest, holding you tight against him as he walks both of you over to the edge of the dock.
He rubs his hands up and down your arms, smacking a kiss to your cheek before taking his spot next to you.
“See you in 20?” you ask.
It’s your usual routine whenever you join the cold water swims, both diving in and swimming laps until you absolutely have to get out. He simply shakes his head, reaching for your hand and interlacing his gloved fingers with yours.
“Would quite like to jump in with my wife, if that’s alright with her.” he says, gaze softening as he looks at you, his thumb brushing along the back of your hand. He gets this look in his eyes sometimes that just knocks the breath out of you, never knowing someone could hold that much love for you in a single look and he’s doing it right now and you just can’t believe you’ll get to spend the rest of your life being looked at like that.
“Yeah, suppose it is.” you say softly with a grin and he brings your connected hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Really love you, you know.”
“Really love you, too.” he says, his matching grin growing wider as yours does. “Ready to jump into the new year together?”
“Ugh, now I’m not.” you groan and he honks out a laugh. “That was gross.”
“Come on, you loved it.”
“Debatable.”
“Y’ gonna fucking freeze unless you jump in with me now, baby.” he says and you grumble in agreement though a smile is breaking through and he squeezes your hand tighter. “Ready? 3..”
The cusp of a new year ahead, one that will see you celebrating one year of marriage, five years together, and continuing to build your life together. Your family. Both of you looking at each other in awe at the party the night before, tucked away in a corner, when you casually mentioned it could be one of the last years you’re celebrating just the two of you.
“…2…”
And you’re ready for it all, no matter what this life throws at you, whether it's his job or your job or family or friends or everything all at once, no matter what, you will have each other.
“1!”
And you jump.
--
a/n: thought of this yesterday and wrote this today it has nothing to do w the epilogue that will one day appear just wanted to write something as a new years treat. lmk what u think !!
Word Count: 1.5K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M
***
Christmas looked a little different this year. The smell of cinnamon and pine had been swapped for coconut and salt, and the chill of London was replaced by a warm sea breeze. Any other year, the season would have been crammed with visits to family and friends, tasty food, and Christmas carols, making for long, albeit fulfilling days.
But after a year at home, Harry had suggested something different.
“How’d you feel about a tropical Christmas, love,” he’d whispered against Quinn’s hair one night, so softly, she almost didn’t hear him.
The holidays had always been the only time he’d been allowed to slow down and see the people he loved most, soaking in as much as he could in the couple weeks he had. But with his self-imposed break, he’d had plenty of family time this year, he’d argued, which made him feel comfortable skipping out on some of the festivities.
And that’s how Quinn found herself in the Caribbean on Christmas, making use of the swimsuits she’d purchased during an end of season sale. Harry had taken care of planning every detail, even the smallest most mundane ones. Quinn had obviously fought him on it, never wanting to cede too much control, but she had to admit it was nice to just sit back and enjoy while someone else did the work.
She’d headed out the beach after breakfast and had quickly dozed off, the crash of the waves and the rustle of the trees lulling her into a peaceful sleep. As she slept, she dreamed that something was tickling her. She twisted trying to move away, but she couldn’t get comfortable and the sensation quickly returned. She sleepily swatted at her skin, only for the sensation to return with a vengeance. Finally, she opened her eyes and saw Harry standing over her, palm leaf in hand, hanging just above the exposed skin of her stomach.
“Hi,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“Seriously?”
“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “I missed you.”
“You’ve spent every minute of this trip with me, H,” she laughed. “How can you miss me?” Harry just shrugged. “You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” Quinn added.
“You’re always beautiful. Don’t need sleep or anything,” Harry said, motioning for Quinn to scoot over on the plush lounger. She moved to the side, giving Harry enough room to sit down beside her before cuddling in beside him, linking their legs together.
“You’re just saying that because you want attention. Or sex,” Quinn muttered against his bare chest. He smelled like sunscreen and salt and it was quickly becoming her favorite scent.
“I mean, I won’t say no to either of those things,” Harry said with a chuckle. “But who’s to say I want anything? Maybe I just want to pay my wife a compliment.”
His wife. It had been almost two weeks and Quinn didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing those words from her husband. “Well, I’m lucky to have such a wonderful husband,” she replied, craning her neck to place a gentle kiss along Harry’s jaw. She never thought she’d be one of those newlyweds, but she had clearly misjudged herself.
They’d started wedding planning soon after Harry proposed, and while they’d initially assumed they’d have a large wedding (perhaps in Italy?), the more they looked into the actual mechanics of pulling it off, the less enthusiastic they became.
“I didn’t realize this would be so…involved,” Harry said over dinner one night after they’d spent the day researching venues. “It’s like planning the biggest party of our lives. But less fun. Am I allowed to say it’s not fun?”
“I know,” Quinn said, slightly relieved she wasn’t the only one who felt overwhelmed. “It’s like we need to have an idea about the guest list to see what venue would work, but then we kind of need to know where we’re going to have it so that we know who would be able to come. And there are so many decisions. Why are linens such a big deal? And then there’s trying to keep everything private. It’s just…” she trailed off.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” she said in agreement.
The next morning, Harry had presented his new plan over coffee. “How would you feel about eloping?”
So that’s what they did.
They enjoyed the spring and summer and fall soaking up time with family, exploring the city, and enjoying mundane everyday details that aren’t so mundane when you’re on the road for most of the year. They enjoyed being with each other and their families, all while keeping the biggest secret of their lives. And when work started to wind down for Quinn in early December, she cashed in all of her leave, ready for what came next.
On a rainy Saturday, they texted a couple of their friends and had them meet them at a venue that would not be making The Knot’s list of ideal wedding locations: a nondescript government building. Quinn wore a white jumpsuit she’d purchased earlier in the week, and Harry wore the simplest suit in his closet. An hour later, the papers were signed, and they were officially a married couple. They celebrated their nuptials with pizza and early bedtime, before catching a flight the next morning.
“So,” Harry said, moving to take Quinn’s hand in his own, bringing her back to the present. “When are we going to tell them?” He stroked the diamond band that now rested on her finger alongside the engagement ring he’d given her just a little over a year ago. She reached for his own wedding band in return, twirling it around his finger, smiling when she caught a glimpse of the small tan line that already formed.
“Would make for a great New Year’s surprise.”
“It would,” Harry said, smiling softly. “Mum’s going to lose it.”
“I just hope she’s not mad,” Quinn said. It was the fear that had been nagging at her since they’d made their decision. That by keeping this moment for themselves, they were somehow depriving their family and friends from sharing the memory with them, even though they’d agreed to have a celebration when they’d returned.
“None of that now,” Harry scolded. “She’s going to be thrilled that we finally made it official. Got my act together and made an honest woman of you.” Quinn shot him a look and he laughed. “You know what I mean. I think everyone’s just going to be so happy. That we did what worked for us. And if they aren’t, well they’re off the guest list for the celebratory dinner.”
“I’m really glad we did this, Harry,” Quinn said after a moment. “I think it’s everything I wanted.”
“Signing papers in a water-stained room while a government employee watched?”
“It would have been nice if there was some mold to complete the vision but I’ll take what I can get.” Harry laughed and Quinn waited until he calmed down before continuing. “No, I always wanted it to be you and me. I didn’t need a crowd of people or a dress or a fancy destination, I just needed you there with me. And you were. It was perfect.”
Harry was silent but Quinn could feel him take a shuddering breath. She knew what those words meant to him. That she wanted him. Not the glitz and the glamour and the money and the attention and all of the other things that came along with being Harry Styles. She just wanted him. Harry. The guy who always ended up on her side of the bed because his side was too far away. The guy that had coffee waiting for her every morning. The guy who would never admit it publicly but loved nothing more than reading the bios of the cats up for adoption at the local cat cafe, always saying he was just looking for one his mother would like. And now he was hers, forever and ever. Even when she had to share him with millions of others.
“You want another one of those rum things?” Harry asked, sniffling.
“Sure. Are you getting one?”
“Might as well. It’s our honeymoon after all. We only get one of those.” He waggled his eyebrows. ‘It’s our honeymoon’ had become his favorite way to justify anything and everything on the trip. He stood up and Quinn moved to follow him. “No, no,” he chided. “Stay here. I didn’t mean for you to get up.”
“I want to go,” Quinn said, reaching for his hand and leaning into his touch as he pulled her up. “I always want to be with you.”
“And now you’re stuck with me.”
“Forever.”
Harry smiled widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Come on.” He gently tugged Quinn along. “I need to get my wife a drink.”
final part of pomegranate: the last of the firsts.
wordcount: 8.2k+
—————
Harry looked at the box in his hand with a pinch between his brows.
Was he maybe getting a little ahead of himself? Sure, but there was such a thing as being under-prepared and that wasn't something he wanted. That was why he was in the middle of the personal hygiene aisle with a box of condoms in hand.
Ribbed for her pleasure, or ultra thin? His brows pulled into a tighter furrow. Would any of these options really make a difference?
God, how was he supposed to know which ones were going to fit?
Reaching for another box, this one black with obnoxious gold lettering, Harry practically jumped out of his skin when a shopping trolley clipped the back of his shoe. In nearly the same instant a rushed sorry came from the older woman operating the cart.
He turned to look at her over his shoulder, ready to wave off her apology, "'S alright, no worries."
The smile he had pinned to his face dampened when he saw the woman's gaze drop to the now three boxes in his hands. Her eyes widened just enough that it was noticeable, even if she didn't want it to be.
She attempted to fix her features into something much more pleasant, though her smile was strained. "Have a nice day," she muttered as she continued past, her steps a touch faster than was appropriate down an empty aisle.
The interaction lasted for less than a minute, but Harry was going to be replaying her reaction for hours on end. At least the flush bubbling under his cheeks was going to be there, whether he liked it or not.
Fixing both the knitted cap he had over his hair and the thick hood of his sweatshirt to shadow his face a bit more, Harry tried not to feel embarrassed. This was a very, very normal thing to be doing, buying condoms.
Not that he was having sex or anything. It's just... the opportunity was now on the table and he didn't want to be ill-prepared. Should (Y/N) decide she wanted to share something like that with him, he didn't want to put a stop to the magic because he didn't have the magic stash in his bedside table like he was supposed to.
Not that they were having sex, though. Or even said anything that could allude to changing his virgin status.
But, (Y/N) did tend to spend the night in his room more often than not these days. They weren't exactly glued to each other's sides since he'd been brave enough to confess his feelings those couple of weeks ago, but there was definitely a shift.
Those kisses on the cheek had changed to pecks on the lips. Quick goodbye hugs were now lingering cuddles before they were separated for the work day. Quiet declarations of seeing one another later were now often punctuated with a new three syllable sign off. Nights in front of the television dissolved into sleepovers with a single shared pillow, murmured conversations to be had about topics it appeared neither of them had been brave enough to broach prior to the night in her bedroom.
It was kind of like (Y/N) was his... girlfriend.
Even the thought had a new flush touching Harry's throat and climbing up his jaw.
So, maybe he was getting a bit too ahead of himself when he dropped two of the three boxes in his basket (the ultra thin and specifically sized ones). But, he thought to himself as he began perusing another aisle in search of a quick dinner idea, it might be nice to give into some of his hope.
Hope that she trusted him just as much as he did her.
—————
Hunched over his desk, Harry wanted nothing more than to step into this spreadsheet and rearrange it with his bare hands. Whoever was in charge of formatting these things was going to make him go into early retirement, no—
A delicate pair of hands settled on the shelf of his shoulders. Harry started at the touch, but melted nearly immediately. He was growing to know this touch better than even his own skin.
A soft smile bloomed on his face when he turned in his chair, lifting his headphones off of his ears. Behind him, hands now dropped to her sides, was (Y/N). Pretty as ever, fresh home from work with her hair still pinned back and sensible trousers on her legs. She came to see him before even moving into something more comfortable.
"Hey you," he smiled, looking up at her with what he was sure was stars in his eyes.
"Hi," she greeted, reciprocating the curl of his lips. She made a move to sit on the edge of his bed before him, relaxing into the mahogany bedding. "How's everything going?"
Rolling his neck when he realized just how close he had craned it to look at the screen, he let out a sigh. "'S alright."
"Is it the spreadsheets?" (Y/N) asked, already reaching to place a comforting hand on his knee. Her thumb worked a circuit on the side of the joint, soothing him down more than she even knew.
"Yeah," he breathed, "I don't want to be a problem, but I feel like I've got to talk to someone at this point. 'M having to go back and fix each one before I can even get started on m'side."
Her clear gaze was stitched right to him, a frown pouting her lips. "Don't worry about being a problem, H. It's not fair for you to have to do twice the work, and possibly get behind on what you're supposed to be doing. Say something."
"We'll see," he sighed, encouraged by her words but not sold on the idea of making a name for himself in the office outside of being "Quiet Harry".
He could tell (Y/N) knew where he sat on the fence, but she didn't push him. "We'll see," she agreed, tipping her chin up, "Until then, though, are you almost done for the day?"
Glancing at the time on the alarm clock he had situated on his bedside table, he nodded his head. "I've got ten more minutes before I can clock out."
Her smile grew larger at his words. "Good," she started, leaning towards him conspiratorially, "We should go out tonight. If you want, anyway."
At her suggestion, Harry could't help the way his mind flashed to Collin—Cora's brother from the night at the bars—and the way he had attempted his hand at flirting with (Y/N) many times through the night. Going out again didn't sound particularly fun.
"I don't know, love," Harry said, canting his head as if rolling the idea around, "'S been a long week, s—"
"H," she muttered, jaw dropping in offense, "Are you rejecting me?"
Harry reared back at her accusation. She'd never said anything like that when he said no to bar hopping before. "No, no, I jus'... If y'want to go to the bars, I don't think—'M jus' not—"
"I don't mean going to the bars with Rue and everyone," (Y/N) clarified, her offense turning faux with a laugh entering her tone, "I was asking you to go on a date with me."
Realization settled on him then. To be fair, if she wanted to spend a night out with her friends, she did usually mention who exactly it was that was going out. She didn't really just ask him, not the way she had tonight anyway.
If you want, anyway.
"I... I didn't know," he muttered, cheeks running red and warm, "Sorry."
A bubbling laugh fell from her lips as she leant forward and pressed her lips to his cheek ,right where his dimple would appear when she made him smile. "I figured. But, if you're tired and all, we don't have to, I was just joking before. We can plan a different night if that's easi—"
"No, no, I want to. I really want to."
"You're not tired?" (Y/N) pressed, taking her turn at being the incredulous one.
"No. Not for this," he cemented, eagerly casting the thought of Collin out of his head. "We can do anything y'want tonight."
She raised a brow. "You're sure?"
A definitive nod came from him.
"Well," she started, eyes sparkling and giddy, "We could go to dinner at that Italian place we like. Or, we could do something new."
Something new. Just the string of those words brought the nerves in Harry's skin to attention. That was how she described every first Harry had with her—something new.
The condoms in his bedside table suddenly seemed to have a spotlight directly on the drawer.
Blinking back to (Y/N) before she could catch his distraction, he answered, "Something new."
Her smile grew.
—————
"Wasabi just tastes like soap to me. I don't know, it's not that spicy it's just... sudsy."
Harry laughed at the face of disgust forming on (Y/N)'s features. If he were in a movie, he could see himself letting out a dreamy sigh as he dropped his chin to his palm, leaning across the table to get a better look at his darling. Instead, he attempted to play it cool and only let a gentle smile settle on his face as he glanced at her through his lashes.
"Y'haven't had the right stuff, that's all," Harry offered, tipping his chin up, "When I was in Ja—"
"When you were in Japan, you had the real stuff, I know, I know," (Y/N) cut him off, a teasing smile on her lips as she pinched another piece of her spicy salmon roll between chopsticks, "Trust me, I haven't forgotten when you left me for a whole month."
"You could've come with me," he sang, topping his head, "I think y'would've really liked it."
And, he wouldn't have been texting her every day several times despite the time difference, clinging to her through a screen. He would've had her at his side, experiencing something he now held so dear to his heart.
"Maybe next time," she cemented, the same way she always did when he brought up the expedition, "We'll just have to figure out a way to get me to sleep through the whole flight, so I don't get sick."
He knew her request was nothing but a silly joke, but there was a part of Harry that was determined to find a myriad of ways to make it so she had nothing but a pleasant experience if he was lucky enough to get her on a flight with him.
"I'll figure something out," he said, a determined pinch appearing between his brows.
Underneath the table, her foot knocked against his, drawing his eyes ip from where they fell to the dish of soy sauce stationed between them. He caught her eye as she looked at him, an affectionate smile draped over her features.
"You don't have to think so hard about it, H," she laughed, "I think we've got some time. We'll figure it out together."
Together. Together. The syllables were enough to make his heart patter a bit harder behind his ribs. The two of them being together, forming an us. For the first time ever, there was a chance Harry would be more than an I and be something with someone else. All with the one person he deemed too far out of his grasp years ago.
He suddenly felt sheepish, with a flush creeping under the collar of his sweater. They were on a real date tonight—all under (Y/N)'s request. He didn't think anything could beat an evening in with one of their shows on the television, but this sushi dinner was becoming stiff competition.
"What?" she asked, knocking her foot against his once more.
"Hm?" Harry blinked, focusing his gaze on her once more. Just the sight of her was enough for the flush to climb an inch higher up his throat. That was (Y/N) sitting across from him, bathed in the glow of paper lanterns with her pretty, perfect, everything eyes on him.
"What are you thinking about? You're getting all red," she pressed, a slight smile on her lips before popping another piece of her roll in her mouth.
Harry shook his head, feeling the swirls of his hair drift across his forehead. "Nothing, jus'... you know."
Was it lame to acknowledge the first date while you were on it? He thought at the very least it wasn't very suave to talk about how much he was blown away by the fact they'd even made it to this benchmarker when they were still sitting across from one another.
"'You know' what?" She leaned over her plate conspiratorially, as if in search of a secret, "Did I miss something?"
"No, I jus' mean," he started, dropping his eyes to where he pushed around the fallen rice grains from his tuna and avocado rolls, "'S still... 'S crazy, you know—us."
Harry watched the way her lashes fluttered, eyes turning down towards her own plate for a brief moment. "A little," she agreed, "Mostly because we said I love you before we'd even gone on a date."
A bubbling laugh left his chest. Things were most definitely out of order between them, though he wouldn't have it any other way. This route worked in his favor, even if it was years in the making.
"Jus' a little backwards," he nodded, dimples denting his cheeks, "But, 's worked, right?"
"Oh yeah, definitely," she said, nudging his foot with hers. A playful sparkle entered her eyes, a sly smile on her lips. "If you'd just told me you were a virgin earlier, we probably would have gotten here a lot faster."
Harry choked out a laugh, feeling his skin heat that much more. Maybe the whole restaurant didn't need to know about his sexual status, but it was still funny.
"I was nervous," he muttered, shaking his head with a shy smile. "Didn't think it was a very sexy thing to tell the girl I've been in love with for years."
(Y/N)'s brows bounced over her eyes. "Years?"
Buying himself a minute, Harry sipped from his drink. It wasn't a secret now that he was in love with her, but it still felt nerve-racking to share the details of one of his longest held secrets. He doubted that she would be completely turned off hearing just how long he'd had his eyes on her, but it didn't make it any easier to share.
"Since university," he murmured, moving quickly to stuff a bite of his roll in his mouth.
Her expression warmed, full of rounded edges and soft eyes. "Really?"
He nodded.
"I can't believe you never told me," she smiled, giving away any attention she may have paid to her dinner to land right on him, "I mean, I know why now, but... I had the biggest crush on you when we met. I just never thought you liked me back."
"You did?" Harry blanched. He remembered many things from those first few months with (Y/N), but he didn't remember a single moment of when she may have held any affection for him.
"Oh yeah," she solidified, "Like, bad. I told, like, all of our friends about it. But, it never seemed like you wanted anything more than to be friends, so I kind of let it go. Obviously not completely, but I thought that if you wanted something, we'd get there when we were supposed to get there."
"And y'think we're supposed to be there now?" God, he really hoped so.
A grin stretched over her lips.
"Oh, yeah. Definitely."
So much giddy energy lived in Harry's body just listening to her. This was his real life? This was what that morning in his bedroom led to?
Despite wanting to run around, scream, scale trees, and swim the ocean, Harry nodded his head.
"Me too."
—————
"You know," (Y/N) started, taking her shoes off to be left in a heap by the front door, "I don't usually invite anyone inside on the first date."
Harry's grin was dreamy as he gazed at her. "No?"
"Oh no," she shook her head, stepping towards him. "Never. You're the exception."
Once she was close enough, she reached up to loop her arms around her neck. Harry, complete with a pounding heart, settled his hands on her waist. The curve was more familiar to him than he ever thought he would have the privilege of knowing. He just hoped she wouldn't be able to feel the way his skin was growing clammy under her top.
"Yeah?" he prodded, liking the game she was setting forth. "Why's that?"
"Well," she started, "First of all, you live here"—she earned a laugh out of him for that one—"Second, you made me laugh a lot tonight. Third, I think you're really hot."
Even though he knew she was playing around, attempting to make him laugh, it was nice to hear her say those things.
"I do live here," he cemented, tipping his head before tipping his chin down to face her, "But the rest... you mean that?"
"Harry, you're the funniest person I've ever met," she said using the leverage of her arms around his neck to pull him lower, "And you know I think you're really hot, right? Or have I not made that clear enough?"
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Maybe you need to remind me."
Harry only saw a quick flash of the eager grin on her face before she rose to press her lips to his. It was soft and affectionate, the way she slotted her lips against his. He pulled her top lip between his two as he pulsed his hands on her waist. He could taste the honey dessert they shared at the restaurant lingering on her mouth. Even more so when he felt the barest sweep of her tongue graze his lip.
He could feel his skin already beginning to warm, his chest pounding. The condoms he'd purchased sprung to the forefront of his mind.
Was he being too presumptuous that she would want to sleep with him just because they'd gone on a date? Was he looking too far ahead when he pictured her wrapped in his sheets once more? It was too much to assume that she would let him replay the moment before he went on his knees for her, when he laid above her with her legs around his hips, pelvises slotted together. Right?
It was (Y/N) that drew away first, blinking up at him with glittering eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Hm?" His brain wasn't working very clearly at the moment.
"Are you alright?" she asked again, concern painting her features, "You seem distracted. We don't have to do anything, you know. Just because we went on a date, and all, it doesn't mean we have to."
His hands on her waist tensed when he realized what she was saying. She thought he didn't want to do anything more with her tonight? How she could have arrived at that conclusion when he was the one clutching at her waist as he hungrily kissed her, he wasn't sure. There were times he was sure she was living in his mind, hearing his thoughts and understanding everything he wanted before he had the chance to utter a word. Other times, like this, he wasn't sure how they were even in the same room.
"That's—No—I'm... 'M fine," he cemented, "I jus' didn't want to make you feel like we had to do anything."
She blinked with a flutter of lashes. "I mean I want to, but it's up to you, H."
He figured it would be a bit embarrassing if he had the mind to think of anything but (Y/N) and the turn the night was taking, but there was no time for that. Not when he had to keep his imagination in check, lest he pull her a little too close to his body and she realized just how eager he was to hear her words.
"I want to," he rushed out, tongue tripping over itself, "I really want to."
A small grin curled (Y/N)'s lips. Her arms around his neck shifted until she curled the strands at the nape around her fingers. "You really want to?"
She was trying to play around with him, get him to laugh and ease him through his confession, but that wasn't where Harry's mind was going. He pulled her flush against him, feeling every curve and dip of her body against the rigid muscles of his own. He wouldn't be surprised to hear that his eyes had gone dark, pupils blown.
"I want you," he cemented, a grumble to his voice.
Harry watched as (Y/N)'s expression dropped into something liquid and hazy. Her lips parted with brows downturned. He couldn't help but imagine this is what she would look like pleading for him, dilated pupils and soft features.
A beat passed.
"Your room or mine?"
Harry didn't have to think: "Mine."
—————
Harry was restless as he laid back. Clad in a bold move of only sweatpants, he couldn't help but play with the strings at his waist. (Y/N) was still in the bathroom, cleansing herself of the day before returning, leaving him with too much time to himself.
Was he ready for something like this? He didn't doubt that this was something he wanted to do with (Y/N), but he worried. Was he going to feel different in the morning? Was she going to feel different about him in the aftermath?
God, what if he was bad?
Maybe he should tell (Y/N) he wanted to go to bed, that he was a little too tired. That would be best, right? That way he wouldn't be able to disappoint her, or himself. When she came back, he would tell her that he really loved her still, he just wasn't feeling well—maybe he'd blame it on the sushi? That' would be believable, and then he could hope that she'd still share his bed with him and then they'd wake up in the morning and everything would be as it always was and he wouldn't have to worry about—
Stepping through the threshold, (Y/N) wore a large shirt and a smile. The makeup she donned for their date was washed away, leaving clean skin and curled lashes behind. Her hair was loose, framing her face as she gazed at him. She moved with familiarity through the room, padding on socked feet over his floor.
"Hi you," she said once she reached the edge, climbing on the mattress towards him. "You look comfy."
He swallowed around his dry throat. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the stretched neckline of her sleep-top, giving him a view he wanted so badly to feel bad about glimpsing.
"Um, yeah," he muttered, blinking back to reality when she joined him on his pillow, "Jus' waiting for you."
"Well, I'm here now. No more waiting, right?"
No more waiting. The thought had his cock stirring in his lap.
"Right," he muttered.
Reaching out, (Y/N) placed her hand on his cheek. Her fingertips breached the baby curls on his hairline, thumb coasting over the height of his cheekbone. "You're still alright?"
"Yeah," he whispered, "'M jus'... nervous."
The curl on her lips was comforting. "What's making you nervous?"
He turned to face her, laying on his side with their noses only inches apart. His eyes traced over her features, noting the small blemishes and marks over the soft skin, the places he wanted to kiss so badly. "I want it to be good. I want to be good."
"You are going to be perfect. We'll be in this together, there's nothing to be scared of."
"But," Harry started, dropping his eyes from hers to line over her jaw, "I jus' don't want to disappoint you. 'M worried I waited too long."
A pinch appeared between her brows, incredulous. "You waiting is not going to make you disappoint me. You did what you felt was right for you, and that's okay. I mean, honestly, this is working in my favor—more for me."
He let out a breathy laugh as she bounced her shoulder. This was the reason he had made it this far with her. She did nothing but ease him, comfort him, make every breath worth it. "You think so?"
"I know so," she cemented, tipping her head to press her lips to his chin, "No matter what, anything that happens—or doesn't happen—tonight, isn't going to change how I feel about you. You've already got me."
He could feel his breath being taken away. You've already got me.
All Harry could manage to croak out was, "I love you," before he caught her mouth in a kiss.
There was an urgency behind the affection that they hadn't started the evening with. This time, he tasted the crisp peppermint of her toothpaste only to be overpowered by the raspberry taste of her lip oil. The scent of her lotion perfumed around him, wafting through his nose and tinting his thoughts with vanilla cotton clouds. He reached out and caged an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him.
Their legs tangled as (Y/N) parted her lips for him. It was her that gave the first swipe of her tongue over his bottom lip, tasting with a breathing moan. Harry felt his brows knit in the middle, fingertips denting into the plush of her form. He wanted so badly to be closer to her; feeling her against his body wasn't close enough. Especially not with layers of clothing between, no matter how threadbare her top appeared to be.
Slipping his tongue against her own, (Y/N) let out another moan into his mouth. She hooked her leg over his hip as she swept her tongue through his mouth, tasting one another more than he'd ever thought he'd have the privilege of doing. Her hand on his cheek wandered until she was sliding through his hair, nails on his scalp until she found her way to the pillow cushioning their heads.
With her hand stationed on the pillow and leg hooked over his thigh, she made the move to roll their bodies. Harry kept her steady with his arm a cage around her waist, helping her as she moved to sit astride him.
Harry couldn't help himself when he pulled away, eager to see her above him for the first time. (Y/N) looked down at him with swollen lips and glazed eyes. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, her breasts pressing into the material of her top, nipples outlined. He could feel the weight of her on his lap, warm and heavy over his thickening cock.
He was sure a look of awe molded his face, only heightened when he ran his hands over her body. The barrier of her top couldn't shield him from feeling the dips and curves. He felt the swell of her breasts and ladder of her ribs as if nothing were in the way. The heat of her form radiated out of her, painting over his already warmed palms.
"You're so gorgeous," he muttered, feeling compelled to bathe her in praise and nothing but. "So, so gorgeous, love. 'M so fucking lucky, oh my god."
Her smile was sweet over her kiss-swollen mouth. "I'm the lucky one," she argued, "If you could see what I see right now..."
She trailed off when her attention was handed to the route his hands took over her body. He wanted so badly to concentrate on her words, but how could he do that when the hem of her shirt was pulled tight over the expanse of her thighs. He tucked his hands under that taut hem and pulled upwards. A breathy silence filled the room.
More and more of her body was revealed as he tugged. Plush, dreamy thighs. Flared hips. Bare, panty-less core (he wondered if she felt the way his cock reacted at the sight). Soft stomach and curved waist. Soft skin blooming with goosebumps when he reached her ribs. The underside of her breasts. Harry's hands stalled then.
(Y/N) nodded down at him, the permission he was looking for.
In one final tug, Harry pulled her shirt over her head. The material fell into a pile on his floor, out of sight out of mind. Especially when he had what he did on his lap.
Bare for his eyes only, (Y/N)'s body was presented to him in soft dips and swells. Her nipples were tight over her breasts, chest heaving as she pulled in deep breaths. Her skin was warm, soft and fragranced, drawing him in like a honeybee to a flower. Everything he ever needed was right before him—inside and out.
He could feel his jaw go slack as he grazed his hands down her shoulders, skating down her breasts and soft stomach. All the way down to the bones of her hips and plush thighs.
Only one thought came to mind.
"I love you."
The gentle smile on her face felt out of place compared to her dilated eyes and Harry's hard cock. "I love you too," she replied simply, dropping down to press her lips to his, "So much, H."
A careful roll of her hips over his took away his breath. His mouth stilled under hers, parted in a small gape as she moved her kissing to the very corner. He frantically grabbed at her hips, fingertips denting into the soft flesh.
He felt every tightening and shifting of her muscles when she gave another dragging rock of her core against him. Against his chest, he felt the tips of her breasts grazing over his skin.
Fuck, she was naked. (Y/N) was naked on top of him. She was fucking him through his clothes. What the fuck is his life, what the fu—
(Y/N) swirled her hips, disrupting the shy rhythm she was developing and Harry's breathing.
It was clear, even through the material of his sweats, that she was wet. She really did want him no matter what he lacked.
The thought had him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting upwards. It was (Y/N)'s turn to let out a squeaking breath, taken aback. He was sure she was able to feel just how ready he was, how desperate he was to have more, feel more, touch more of her.
"Harry," she started, a pitch to her voice, "I—Are you.. If you're ready, I-I am. Please."
"I am, I am," he muttered, "Jus'... I have something, hold on."
Blindly reaching for the bedside table, Harry rooted around the drawer. (Y/N) was more than distracting as she dragged her hands down his chest, bringing him back to the last time he felt such soft hands grazing his skin.
But, he needed to focus. He needed to find the box and open the flap and pull out a condom as quickly as he could. In hindsight, he realized it might not have been the best idea to buy two separate boxes; now he couldn't be sure which one he was grabbing until it was on.
"Do you need hel—Oh." Blinking back to reality, he saw a smile bloom over (Y/N)'s lips. "Did you buy condoms?"
"Um," he muttered, "Maybe?"
(Y/N) reached into the drawer herself and pulled out a foil packet with ease. She handled the shiny square, sitting back on his hips above him.
"A little presumptuous, don't you think?" she teased as she tore the top off, "You know it's not good to assume."
With his hands on her hips, thumbs sitting in the creases between her thighs and the small of her stomach. "I mean, you are in my bed."
A bubbling laugh filled his room as she threw her head back. "You're right. You're just well prepared, I guess." With the foiled packet ripped open and ready, she looked at him with raised brows. "Did you...?"
He swallowed, fighting off the sheepish flush that wanted to bloom over his bare chest. "I've never put on one before."
"I can do it," she assured him, that gentle, patient smile on her lips.
All it took was a nod from him before (Y/N) shuffled over his form. Sitting back, she made enough room to pull the waist of his sweats to the middle of his thighs. His cock bobbed out, ruddy head already throbbing with a thick vein on the underside. The chilled air of his bedroom was enough to have goosebumps flicking over his form.
When he saw (Y/N) pull the rubber from the packet, he knew it was going to be in his best interest to look only at her face. He wasn't going to be able to handle the sight of her handling his cock, not when he was already so high strung.
Of course, that plan went down the drain the second he saw her curl over and press a precursory kiss to the head of his cock.
Why the fuck would she do that? Why would she do that when he was already teetering on the edge of his control? He could feel a blurt of precum drip over his crown.
"Sorry," she muttered, stretching the condom from the coil made in the foil, "I just missed it and all."
What the fuck?
Harry didn't have another moment to dwell when he felt her begin to roll the condom over his length. He hadn't even recovered from her kiss before he was contending with the soft of her hands once more. She must have plucked the ultra-thin style from his drawer with the way he could feel every cease and ridge of her palm. His balls drew up tight against his shaft, matching the coiling pit he felt in his stomach.
His hands on her hips grew tense, holding her tightly lest he lose control much too early. He knew good and well he wasn't going to be able to last very long at all tonight, but he didn't have to give in this quickly.
"Does it feel okay?" (Y/N) asked, decidedly breathless compared to just a moment before.
"Yeah, yeah," Harry babbled as she continued to stroke her hand over his length, "Feels so good."
Too good, he wanted to amend. The muscles in his thighs and abdomen bunched, readying for something he couldn't allow to happen yet
He could hear the smile in her voice when she let out a small good but he didn't have it in him to play around or listen to her teasing. He needed to be inside her before he cut the night short before it even began.
"S-Stop, stop," he said, reaching out to stop her touch, "Sorry."
"Too much?" she asked, already adjusting where she sat on his thighs.
"Too much," he agreed, "Don't wanna—Not before we've—"
"I know," she said, filling in the blanks his stumbling left behind, "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," he breathed, "I love you."
A soft blink of her lashes, short smile on her lips. "I love you, too."
Truthfully, Harry thought he would have a moment before she moved again. But, he had to watch in awe as she raised to her knees, shuffling to hover above his stiff cock. She muttered something when she reached for his length, holding him steady before looking towards him.
"You trust me?"
His heart could have cracked right through his chest and made its way right to her then. "I trust you."
Holding his breath, Harry watched as she sunk down on his cock. The warmth hit him first.
Never had his hand—covered in lube and his own body heat—had ever felt that warm. She moved slowly, allowing her pussy to split open on him as she accepted the tip inside her channel. The tightness hit him next. He thought her throat was snug, but that had nothing on the way her walls pulsed around him, sucking him deeper and deeper. He could feel the ridges and texture, completely unique to the woman above him. Just how wet she was hit him last. A slick noise sounded when she sat down on him, clit hitting the thatch of tamed hair at his base.
He had disappeared completely inside of her. Breathless noises left (Y/N) as she adjusted, her own eyes going a bit glossy when he dared to match them. She wasn't even moving, staying stationary above him, and yet he could feel the way her insides fluttered around him each time she attempted to catch her breath.
Her thighs were spread wide around his hips, chest heaving and skin bubbling with warmth. She placed her hands on the small of his stomach, palms molding around the blocky muscles on his abdomen. Her fingertips dug gently into him, the clarity of her nails pressing into his flesh was enough to tie him to the world.
"(Y/N)?" he murmured, voice broken.
"Sorry, sorry," she squeaked, "Just give m-me a second. You're—oh my god, H, you're—"
He wanted to know exactly what it was that she thought of him, but it was its own fantasy to see her so out of it. To see her unable to even complete a sentence when he was inside her.
Fuck, he was inside her.
Harry was having sex with (Y/N). Holy shit.
Almost involuntarily, he rocked his hips upwards. Her pussy clenched around him. He watched as she exhaled, the air pulled out of her.
A call of his name filled the room, pitched and dreamy as she blinked at him with half-lidded eyes.
"Tell me," she started, swallowing around her tongue, "Tell me if it's too much, okay?"
Harry couldn't manage any words. He only nodded his head.
As he watched her raise herself to her knees, his cock sliding out of her, Harry held onto her hips like a lifeline. He was going to have to hope against hope that he didn't immediately cum the second she sank down again.
Unceremoniously, she dropped back down to his hips with a soft slap of their hips meeting. Her pussy fluttered around him, adding to the friction of her tight opening squeezing down his length.
"Shit," he murmured, his toes curling and hands tightening.
Spurred on by his reaction, (Y/N) performed the action against, curating a rhythm with every drop of her hips against his. Her slick opening was like a vice around him, her wetness dripping down until it smeared across his base. His balls slapped against her rear everytime she sat down, knocking the breath out of her in small uh's leaving her chest. Her breasts bounced above him, nipples tight in the open air.
Harry laid back in awe. Pure amazement coated his brain. How pleasure like this could exist, and he could partake in it with a woman like this was a miracle in itself.
"(Y/N)," he moaned, reaching his hands over her body. He couldn't touch enough of her, feel enough of her against his skin. "You're so—fuck—'M—"
"I know, I know," she rushed out, nodding her head as she moved her hands to land atop his. "I want to cum with you, I want to cum with you."
"I—I don't—" he stumbled. What was the hottest way he could tell her that he was already on borrowed time? "'M sorry, love. Y'feel too good, I can't—"
(Y/N) cut him off with a smear of her lips against his, laying flush against his body. Her breasts pressed against his chest, sweat trapped between their bodies as her hips continued to rock against him. He couldn't help himself, bucking up against her as her walls pulsed around him. He swore he could feel the pounding of her heartbeat through their skin, the cages of their ribs.
Moans spilled from her lips as she rolled her hips against his, clit pressed against his base. Every thrust upwards, meeting her in the middle, was enough to knock calls of his name from her chest. Pussy gave snug sucks around him, pulling and pulling and pulling at everything he was willing to give.
Her kissing was messy, off centered and clumsy, but it was the best he'd ever had. His favorite. She was his favorite everything, the best (albeit, only) he'd ever had in every way possible. His eyes scrunched closed, features screwed up in pleasure he only just realized existed. All at the hands of the woman he loved.
"Harry," she murmured, voice heavy and thick as it fanned over his mouth, "Harry, you can fi-finish whenever you want. You don't have to wait—oh my god—wait for me."
He wasn't sure when he started speaking, but eventually he could hear the rambling mummer of his own voice declaring that he loved her over and over again. His hands roaming over her body turned into a hugging vice, keeping her tight against him as he offered sloppy kisses. His hips bucked in short, clumsy thrusts against her, the soft slaps of their skin mixing wit the slick noises of every inch of him sinking in and out of her opening.
She was so wet, and warm, and tight, and, fuck, this was a dream. This whole moment, this night, this life was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. Not when here he was able to feel (Y/N)'s body against his, and her heart hammering out of her chest in reach of his own. Not when she was kissing him and soothing him with her own declarations of love. Not when he trusted her more than anything.
In the pit of his stomach, Harry began unraveling. His throat ran dry, a soundless gape parting his lips. (Y/N) moved her kissing to the side of his face, over the bridge of his nose, one the height of his cheekbones.
Different than any time he'd managed to get himself off, he was barely aware of the first ropes of his cum spurting from his body. He was much too enveloped in the feel of (Y/N) and her body to realize that the extra warmth he felt was his release filling the condom. All he felt was the blinding relief of the pounds of tension flooding from his bones. He tried to keep up with (Y/N) meeting her hips halfway as she rocked above him, her own rhythm being disrupted by the hold he had on her, but there was no room in his brain for control over his body.
He was left to the mercy of the harsh thrusts upwards, coinciding with the roping of his cum. Clarity only sunk in when he began to come down. His release came in short bursts then, matching the aftershocks he felt at the motion of (Y/N)'s body above him.
Drawing away just enough, (Y/N) cupped her hands around his cheeks. "H?" she asked, breathless.
"'M here, 'm here," he croaked, nodding his head in jerky motions. "'M so sorry, I didn't—I wanted us to be together, I jus' couldn't—"
"I know," she cut him off, her voice ever patient despite the heat lacing her veins, "It's okay, it's okay. I don't mind, I'm just happy you felt good."
"I feel perfect, you're perfect." He could only hold her tight against his chest, uncaring of the sweat glistening on his skin. He felt better, more complete to feel her so close. "Did you...?"
From where she burrowed into the crook of his neck, (Y/N) shook her head. "But, it's okay," she rushed out, "I don't nee—"
"No, no," he started, "Tha's not fair, you—I want you to feel good, too."
"I did," she insisted, "I do, but you—"
A gasp escaped her when Harry fit his hand between their bodies. He reached where they met, hips locked together until he met the top of her slit. He could feel the way she had split open to accommodate him, slick and puffy from the way she had bounced atop him. Her clit throbbed when he pressed the pad of his finger to the bud, coinciding with the squeaking that came from the back of her throat. His own throat let out a strangled moan when he felt the way her walls fluttered and tightened around him.
"Harry, you don't—oh my god—"
He didn't pay her fumbling words any mind. He didn't care if she didn't think this was necessary. He wasn't going to be like the rejects before him that made so many claims and pretended to be the best, only to let her down and push her to go home without release. While he was sure he was far from her best (that would come with more practice, he hoped), he was at least going. to make sure that she left his room with something worthwhile.
It didn't take very long before he felt her become impossibly warm around him, slick dripping around his cock. The ultra-thin rubber around his cock did little to dull the tight vice of heat around him. His breath was knocked from his lungs, his skin hypersensitive as he worked her through her own orgasm. If he hadn't already just cum, he was sure that feeling just her release alone would be enough to make him grow hard and desperate again.
Floating back down to earth, Harry knew she was back with him when she pressed a small kiss to the line of his jaw.
"Thanks," she peeped.
Harry let out a bubbling laugh, the edges of his voice dipped in exhaustion. "Don't thank me for that," he muttered, holding her tight as he slipped his hand away from her clit, "You're silly."
He could feel the way she smiled hearing him call her the same thing she always did him.
"Love you," she crooned, "A lot."
"Love you more," he countered. It was the truth.
He couldn't imagine another being in the whole universe could be capable of holding the amount of love and affection he currently housed in his body. Not when he was the one getting to hold the most perfect woman life had to offer.
(Y/N) nuzzled into his neck. "Sure," she teased, giving into his game for now, "We need to get cleaned up, H."
Harry shook his head, keeping her close to him. "Five more minutes. Please."
She didn't say anything, only melting against him. His eyes fluttered to a close, content.
—————
Harry's eyes followed his finger as he traced it down the line of her nose. He felt the even puffs of breaths fan across his hand as he reached the tip. A small, sleepy smile touched his mouth.
He wasn't sure how early it was or just how long it'd been since he cracked his eyes open, but in the quiet of her bedroom (washing his sheets was a task they pushed off for today), time didn't seem to be real. Eternity existed in this small moment, letting him memorialize every plane and line of her features. If he could, he would lay here for the rest of his life counting each of her lashes.
He thought he would feel so different this morning, wrapped in her sheets. He thought that his skin would feel different, or the way he felt about her might have shifted. He thought there might have been some invisible barrier that would have been lifted, something that made it clear that he wasn’t who he was a day ago. But, Harry only felt like himself.
If anything, there was an anxiety that had lifted. There was more of him to give and he wasn’t afraid to do so. As long as it was with (Y/N), anyway.
Focused on the sweep of his finger over her lips, Harry hadn't realized he wasn't alone until her mouth came to a pucker and kissed his digit. Flicking his gaze up to hers, he found her just barely blinking her eyes open to see him in the same morning light he was admiring her in.
"You're awake," he murmured, voice rumbling and low.
She gave another kiss to his finger before her mouth bloomed into a smile. "You're awake and still in bed," she teased, "Last night must have really done a number on you."
"A little," he smiled, "Worth it."
Tipping her chin just so, she pressed a single kiss to his lips. She took a moment to nudge her nose against his own, an affectionate puppy's kiss, before rolling away.
Harry watched as she stretched, a breathy whimper squeaking from her chest as she curled her toes and elongated her arms.
"H?"
He hummed an acknowledgment, eyes drawn to the lines of her body.
"Is it too soon to ask you to shower with me?"
"No," he rushed out, "I mean—yes! It's not too soon, no. Yes, I want to shower with you."
"You're silly," she laughed, shaking her head before turning her sights on him.
The smile she had on her lips was warm and pretty, creasing the corners of her eyes. He'd follow her anywhere when she looked at him like that. Even into the unknown.
He trusts her.
—————
cherries are thought to be the first taste of love; the fruit picked by Venus.
:)))))) final part!! o really hope you all liked going on this little journey with me! the h is so special to me so I hope you liked him and his story like I did! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and pleaseeeee let me know if you have any fun ideas or anything you want to share!
Watching your childhood best friend (& the man you've been in love with for half your life) get married proves to be harder than you thought. Will you be able to make a quick getaway to avoid further heartbreak? Or is it finally time for the truth come out?
(originally part of the @harry-on-broadway fic challenge, then took on a life of its own!)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Interlude: Something To Dream About
Part Four
Part Five
you're my best friend
Blurbs (take place before Part One)
3 AM McDonalds Run, A Piece of Home, Birthday Boy, Right Here
Jealousy, Jealousy
Mini Blurbs/ Requests (take place after Part Five)
harry's house one year, golf & sunburn, street style , slane,
love of my life, the beholder, low rise, good morning, chug,
thank you for, dolce vita, the moment you knew, dog, ii most wanted,
thirty, flirty & thriving, likes to watch , on my way to buy flowers for you, camaraderie
I was reading a fic called Secrets which was AU!Harry where he told his fiance a secret she didn't know. But I can't remember who wrote it. Do you know anything about this one?
I don’t even know how long this has been sitting in my inbox I’m so sorry! No idea. 🥲
WHAT IT IS ABOUT: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.
A/N: i know originally i teased something else with the hozier song, but this came to me when i saw the pics below and i just had to write them. also, i put the bruises on him so go easy on my photoshop skills lol
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
WARNING: mention of blood and bruises
SUMMARY: You and Harry are worlds apart, yet you can't let go of each other, not even when he stumbles into your home in the middle of the night, bruised and in pain.
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You wake to the sound of the front door closing and by the time his footsteps reach the bathroom down the hall you’re fully conscious. There was a time when you considered yourself a heavy sleeper, when the smallest noises could not bother you enough to wake from your dreams, but those days have been gone ever since Harry came into your life.
You kind of knew what you were getting yourself into, his reputation and horrific stories about his dark deals were more than well-known around town and there was a time you never thought you’d get involved with him. You’re worlds apart, he is the fire that will burn you if you get too close, but it appears you’re the water that could take his danger out. Just one party, one glance across the room was enough to bound you two together and turn your life upside down.
Surprisingly, you weren’t the only one fighting against the pull. In the beginning, Harry tried to keep him away from you just as much as you attempted to convince yourself he is nothing but trouble. You still remember what he told you one night when you met him at a dodgy bar against your better judgment.
“I take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You’re way too sweet for me, baby.”
It felt like he wasn’t even talking to you but to himself. His light green eyes were darker than ever as he stared down at your lips and you couldn’t figure out what you wanted more, to kiss him or to leave him. Even though what he said sounded a lot like a promise that he’ll step back, somehow you just ended up even closer.
Life with Harry is like a rollercoaster that takes you through Hell and Heaven at the same time. When it’s good, it’s a high you’ve never experienced before, he is everything you want and could ever need, he fills your heart and eases your mind like no one can and you know he is the piece you’ve been searching for all your life.
But when it’s low… the darkness feels like a weight you can barely carry and it’s hard to remember what it was like when you were blossoming.
You never asked Harry to stop his underworld deals, you know it’s practically impossible, but it’s also hard to live like this. Fearing every call you get, fighting intrusive thoughts about what might have happened to him every time he doesn’t answer your messages and then there are the nights like this, when he visits you in the middle of the night but it’s always for the wrong reason.
The first time Harry appeared at your door at two am, blood running down his face, barely holding himself up, you got so worried he had to calm you even though he was the one with the injuries, but you just couldn’t stop crying and sobbing.
Now you still get yourself worked up but you learned to keep your face straight as you clean his wounds or even stitch them, but it’s still just as much of a struggle emotionally to see the man you love like this all the time.
You sit up in your bed as you hear him grunt before closing the bathroom door as quietly as he can and then the water starts running. Reaching for your phone on the nightstand you check the time, it’s just a little past three in the morning, the dim light of the streetlamps are the only source of light in your tiny bedroom, but even despite the darkness, it still feels bright and homey, you spent a lot of time to create this bubble for yourself and though Harry’s gruff and edgy presence feels the farthest from your colorful life, he still somehow belongs here, in your life.
Rubbing your eyes you stand up and look for the cardigan you know you left on the chair in the corner. When you find it you wrap yourself into it tight and take a moment to mentally prepare yourself for whatever you’ll see. From what you heard, he wasn’t limping so that’s a good start, but you still know there’s a whole lot that could be terrifyingly wrong with him to make him come to you instead of his place.
The water has stopped running by the time you make your way out of the bedroom and over to the bathroom. Light is flowing out underneath the door and you don’t know before simply twisting the knob and opening the door, revealing Harry sitting in the bathtub, bent forward, his curls wet and brushed back, bruises covering his shoulders, back and jawline, his bottom lip busted open.
Repentance fills his glimmering eyes when he looks at you and you know what he would say if his pride allowed him to speak.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I want to be better for you, but it’s so hard.”
Walking over you kneel down next to the tub and cup his face with your palm, gentle and soft, not to hurt him and he melts into your touch in an instant.
“I’m alright,” he rasps as you run your hand down his naked chest, over some of the bruises and you notice how he winces when your cold hand touches a vigorously dark mark on his collarbone.
You’d do anything to free him from this dark world that keeps him as its prisoner, but ironically you know what kind of consequences one would have to endure to be set free and you fear those would take him from you forever. So every time you see the marks of this evil life on him, a piece of you dies. For him.
“I’ll get you some pills,” you whisper and try to get up, but his hand grabs your arm, holding you back.
“Just… stay with me, please.” It’s a desperate plea you could never ignore, so you settle back onto the fuzzy rug next to the tub, one arm against his chest as he hugs it like a child, your thumb gently rubbing the side of his neck. But you don’t stay like that much longer. The urge to get closer to him grows unbearable, so you move to stand again and when you see the panic in his eyes you’re quick to calm him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Hesitantly, but he lets go of your arm and watches you as you undress yourself and join him in the tub, sitting behind him so you can hug him from behind, your chest melting against his back as your heartbeats sync.
His head falls back onto your shoulder while your lips pepper kisses onto his every once in a while, your hands gently running up and down his front, eager to feel the softness of his skin.
“You’re way too sweet for me,” he breathes out.
“Haven’t we been over this?” you ask with a soft smile. He lifts his head and then turns it so he can look at you.
“I feel like I’m ruining you.”
“Don’t act like it’s all on you. I made a decision too and I chose to be with you.”
“You made a mistake,” he whispers and you see something dark, something desperate take over his face for a moment, but you’re quick to bring him back to you, like you always do.
Soothing his hair back, you pull him closer so your lips meet for the softest kiss.
“You could never be a mistake,” you whisper against his lips and you feel him inhale sharply before he kisses you, harder and needier and you’re happy to give him whatever he demands from you.
You stay in the tub until the water gets too cold. Then you grab him a shirt and a pair of underwear he left at yours a while ago and you move to the bedroom. He finally lets you get him some painkillers and you tell him to get in bed when he tries to randomly fix the jammed drawer of your desk. He loves to play the handyman when he’s over, but now is definitely not the time for that.
“Okay, doctor, gotcha,” he chuckles cheekily as he shuffles over to the bed. He watches you with a smirk as you’re moving around, grabbing another blanket before joining him in bed.
“What?” you ask when he just keeps looking at you smugly.
“You take so good care of me, baby. You know, there is one more thing I think I need to feel better.”
Reaching over he hooks a finger into the front of your shirt, tugging it down teasingly.
“Oh, really?” you arch an eyebrow at him.
“Absolutely.”
Instead of a reply, you move closer and press two fingers into a bruise on his shoulder just enough to make him wince and flinch back from the pain.
“I think you need to stay away from physical activities, that’s the doctor’s order,” you scoff.
“Fuck, there was nothing sweet about that, damn!” he grunts, making you laugh.
“But you love it when I put you into your place, don’t you?” Grinning you scoot closer, his arm curling around you instantly.
“I do. Only you can do that,” he smiles down at you.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
I would simply die for an Aster blurb about them moving in together and christening their new room
wordcount: 9.4k+
—————
(Y/N)'s body felt heavy by the time she stacked the final box in what was now her new bedroom. She couldn't help herself before she was flopping onto the bare mattress on the floor, her back popping as soon as she laid back.
It'd been a long day and a half between transporting the boxes, breaking down furniture, and cleaning out whatever she wasn't taking with her in the move. The last step had been spending the morning unpacking what she could and organizing the remaining boxes. Harry was doing the hard work of putting together the furniture they'd just broken down, and setting up the new pieces they picked up to fill out the rest of their space.
Mitch and Sarah had helped as they could, but they were readying for their own move. Now that (Y/N) and Harry were in their own place, Sarah would be moving in with Mitch in the house, leaving their apartment empty at the end of the month.
(It had been a tearful conversation when they realized neither of them would be signing onto the lease once more, (Y/N) especially saddened at the thought of the first place she considered a real home now sitting empty. Her reassurance came in the form of knowing Sarah would still only be fifteen minutes away from her new home, and she would be with Harry now—her real home, if she wanted to get sentimental).
Staring up at the ceiling with her limbs spread out, (Y/N) took in a long breath.
It was odd already, seeing the differences in the ceiling despite the texture not being too far off from what it was like at her apartment or Harry's old house. Even the mattress under her wasn't the same, Harry having urged them to get a bigger one—even more than the one he used to have. Though the walls were still bare, she already knew how different it would be from either of her previous spaces; more black would be involved than she ever imagined herself living in.
All the change had her bones aching that much more.
"Break time?"
Craning her neck up, she spotted Harry standing in the doorway wearing a small smile on his lips. Though he had his hair tied back with one of the many scrunchies he'd stolen, stray curls still stuck to his temples, attracted to the sheen glossing his skin. No eyeliner darkened his gaze at the moment, but the sleeveless cut of his shirt allowed all of his tattoos to sit in the morning light.
God, she was going to have to buy curtains soon, too.
"I guess," she sighed, flopping back onto the mattress.
Harry let out a huff of laughter, his footsteps giving him away as he crossed the room only to flop beside her.
He laid in silence next to her, looking at the same ceiling they would be gazing at every night together.
"What are y'thinking about?" he asked, his voice a murmur.
(Y/N) swallowed, reaching for his hand between them. "We're moving in together."
She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "I know."
Hearing his own joy, she couldn't help the smile touching at the corners of her lips. "You're excited?"
He pulsed his hand around hers. "Of course I am—I've been excited since Barcelona. 'S me and you now, baby."
She liked the way he talked about this change, shaving the nervous edge from her thoughts. Change didn't sound so bad if it meant she was doing it with him. "You'll never have to drop me off anymore."
Letting out a plume of laughter, Harry rolled over to hover above her. Stationing his elbow by her head, he placed his cheek in his palm, squishing his smile as he gazed down at her.
"I know—you'll be stuck with me all the time now."
"You'll be stuck with me," she countered, voicing one of the thoughts that'd been floating through her head these last weeks as the move became more real. What if, once the honeymoon wore off, he'd realize he didn't like living with her as much as he'd hoped?
"Sounds like a dream to me," he told her, readily fending off her unsaid worry. "How long do y'think 's gonna take for you to start getting up early with me, or for me to start sleeping in with you?"
A small huff of laughter fanned from her lungs. "I don't know—you tell me, because I'm not getting up early like you unless I have to."
"We'll see," he said, placing his free hand on the soft of her cheek, "It'll only take a couple mornings of breakfasts before you're up with me every day."
He had her there, truthfully. She loved breakfast, and she wouldn't put it past him to use it against her in an effort to change her sleep cycle.
Leaning into his hand on her cheek with her eyes matching his above her, she felt herself soften up that much more. "You're really happy, though? No cold feet?"
Harry's expression leveled out, sincerity in his eyes. "'M more than happy, angel. Really, I've been thinking about this for a long time with you. Get t'have you all the time now—everything feels real now. 'M excited."
It was the light in his eyes, the way he didn't flinch from her gaze or trail away, that had her chest tightening. His words felt like a vow to her ears. Everything did feel real now—in the scariest, most exciting, nerve-wracking, dream fulfilling way.
This was all she'd ever wanted, to have a home filled with love and trust. Harry would make that a reality for her, starting with this move.
"You're happy?" he prodded, thumbing over her cheekbone.
"Really happy," she affirmed, nodding her head, "Scared, but in a good way."
He tipped his head as he listened to her, a dimple popping into his cheek. "'S a change, but a good change, right?"
"Yeah," she smiled, "Good change."
Ducking down, Harry pressed his lips to hers. Despite the long morning they had picking through and transporting boxes, he didn't lack any energy as he poured that assuring affection through the kiss.
"Love you," she murmured when he pulled away, lashes fluttering in a blink.
"Love you, too," he drawled, voice a low rumble just for her. "After I finish putting up the shelves, we can get lunch."
Maybe it was nostalgia or reaching for something familiar amidst the change that had her suggesting, "Little House?"
His grin stretched with dimples in his cheeks and bunny-like front teeth on display. "Anything y'want, lovebug."
She could definitely get used to hearing that.
—————
"What's next on the list?"
Peering at her phone with knitted brows, (Y/N) scrolled through the list of all the things they needed to pick up during their grocery trip.
"Um," she mused, making sure she was noting everything they had packed away in the trolley already, "Pasta."
Harry hummed in response. "This way, I think," he murmured, leading them down the aisles until she saw the many different boxes and bags displayed on the shelves.
Parking the cart on the opposite side of the aisle, Harry looked at the different options before them with a critical eye as if he were looking at more than just varying shapes of pasta.
"Do y'care what kind?" he asked, reaching for a blue box of plain spaghetti on the shelf.
"Not really, but," she started, spotting her preferred brand just a few boxes down, "The green box is better."
Following her line of sight, he found the brand she referred to just for his features to pinch. "Wheat noodles?"
"Well, yeah," she said, her own brows meeting in the middle with a pinch.
"You... actually eat that?" Harry asked, almost looking offended at this new detail he found out about her.
"They're good," she countered, defensive.
Harry shook his head, a huff of laughter falling from his lips. "I always thought those were Sarah's when I was over."
"Do you not like them?" (Y/N) pressed, popping a hip the longer he stood there arguing with her.
"No one likes wheat noodles, love. You're the first person I've ever met that eats them by choice."
"They're good!" she repeated, a whine to her voice, "Stop being mean."
"I'm not being mean," he shook his head, grabbing for one of her wheat boxes along with one of his regular blue boxes, "Jus' didn't know that about you. Next, you're gonna tell me that y'only eat green bananas or plain yogurt."
When she didn't answer as he loaded the cart with their new finds, Harry glanced up at her with amusement in his eyes.
"(Y/N)..."
"Green bananas last longer," she cemented, "And plain yogurt is really good with honey. Don't be mean."
Harry only shook his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he steadied the trolley with his free hand. "You're cute, angel. That's all."
He pressed a small kiss to the top of her head in the privacy of their aisle, his smile felt against the strands.
"And, a little weird."
Looking up at him with accusing eyes, (Y/N) whined out his name. "No, I'm not."
"Sure," he smiled, teasing her that much more before dotting a kiss to the tip of her nose, "What's next?"
(Y/N) hoped he didn't catch the smile gracing her lips when she shook her head.
—————
Though it felt a bit silly to be so dressed up with nowhere to go, (Y/N) couldn't resist twirling before the mirror in her bedroom.
Her dress was short, a stiff corset making up the bodice while the skirt flared around her hips until hitting the mid of her thigh, everything draped in baby pink satin. Her arms were left free aside from a barely there gathering of lace that sagged over her biceps, a faux sleeve that did nothing to keep the bodice high on her chest. More lace was overlaid on the rest of the dress, threaded with shimmering gold to sparkle every time she caught the light.
It was a dress she'd had for over a year now, having never worn it before tonight. It always felt much too fancy for anything she'd go out for, and much too extravagant for her to feel comfortable in.
But, tonight was date night. Their first date night in their new home. It felt like a special enough occasion to finally grow the confidence to don the gown, even if she was still a bit nervous that she was doing too much. Especially since this date night would be spent in their dining room.
Satisfied with the way her hair fell and her cheeks held a dewy flush thanks to all of the cosmetics on the bathroom counter (Harry still needed to finish building her vanity, so until then she was taking over their ensuite), she padded out of the bedroom on socked feet.
They had almost completely finished packing, only. a few boxes and pieces of furniture waiting. Everything was a perfect mix of the two of them, (Y/N) thought. There was a pink throw blanket over their grey couch, a cherry blossom shaped lamp on their glass coffee table, a fluffy pink cat bed housing a black bat toy. There were photos of them littering the walls, some from their time in Barcelona, but many from the quiet moments they spent at home with one another. While (Y/N) had never imagined living in a home with so much black and other muted tones, everything served as a reminder that this was a home she'd made with someone else—someone she loved.
She'd learn to live with it, she decided.
The kitchen was warm as she padded over the tiles, the light in the oven on as she peeked through the glass to check on the lasagna cooking inside. With the extra cheese bubbling on top, she figured—hoped—the dish would be ready in a few minutes, giving her just enough time to plate and serve everything when Harry walked through the door.
Evie circled her feet as she moved towards the dining table, nearly tripping (Y/N) just as Harry warned her his kitten would attempt to do the first time (Y/N) met her all that time ago.
"Careful, Evie," she scolded her with a gentle tone, reaching down to pet between her ears, "I almost kicked you." Ever the beggar, Evie only chirped up at her with big eyes the way she had when (Y/N) was layering the lasagna in hopes of earning some extra scraps. "Later," (Y/N) promised her, carefully stepping around Evie, "After it's out of the oven, I'll give you some pieces before your dad sees."
The table was already set, complete with candles and intricate place mats. There was a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge (did wine even go in the fridge? She'd have to ask Harry later) next to the strawberry shortcake she'd bought from the shops, and the heart shaped speaker she'd stolen from their bathroom was now perched on the kitchen island. As soon as the lights were lowered, (Y/N) hoped their home would feel just as nice as the restaurants Harry loved taking her to.
After the timer went off, she pulled the dish from the warm oven, basil and oregano scenting through the space. Checking the time, she made haste as she put the finishing touches on the space. Once squares of lasagna were cut out, she attempted to place extra basil leaves atop the bake in hopes of emulating a heart—an idea she'd seen on Pinterest. She connected a soft playlist to filter from the small speaker. Flames danced in the candle votives, warming the space just as he lowered the lights.
Just as she popped the plates on the placemats, she heard the distinct crackling of the garage door opened. A smile spread across her features.
Harry was home.
She couldn't contain how antsy she was as she stood next to the made up table, rocking in her spot with her dress twirling around her. Gosh, she hoped he liked what she did.
Evie chirped at the door she'd learned Harry would come through when he came home, circling and looking up in wait of her dad. (Y/N) sympathized with her energy.
Harry's heavy footsteps sounded just before the door swung open, his gentle voice crooning as soon as he saw his Evie running out to greet him.
"Hey, you," he smiled, reaching down to pet her head, "How was your day, hm? Where's mummy?"
At that same moment, he peered up, noticing the low lights in the house and the warm scent drifting through. She had her hands knotted behind her, unable to stop them from fidgeting by the time his gaze slid over her.
"Hi, love," he said after a moment, though his eyes never strayed from the neckline of her dress, "What's got you all dressed up? Did I forget something?"
She shook her head. "It's date night," she told him, "First one in the new house."
"Pretty special occasion, then. When did y'get that dress?" His eyes finally shifted down the rest of the length to where frilly socks circled her ankles before landing on her face once more. A smile bloomed on his cheeks.
"I've had it for a while, just never wore it," she shared, swallowing around the nerves that all of his attention garnered, "I made dinner."
It seemed then that he realized there was more than just her and her dress in the room. She watched as he took in the set up and the plates of dinner, the smell in the house and the candles lighting the room.
"You did," he said, finally stepping away from the threshold and towards her, "Everything looks wonderful—especially you."
"Thank you," she smiled, falling into his arms as soon as he opened them. Settling her chin on his chest, she dazed up at him with moony eyes. "How was work?"
While it was far from the first time she'd asked him that exact question, it definitely had a different ring to it knowing that he'd just come home—to their home—from his first day of work since moving in.
"Good," he murmured, his eyes seemingly twinkling in the candle light with his eyeliner smudged under his eyes, "Long. Jus' wanted to be home with you and Evie."
Hearing that never got old to (Y/N). "I missed you, too," she declared, squeezing her arms around his middle, "Did you still have fun?"
"A little," he teased, "Y'were busy today though, hm?"
"A little," she parroted, growing sheepish under his gaze, "This is our first real dinner that isn't takeout here. I wanted it to be special."
Tearing his eyes from hers, he looked at the spread on the dining table once more. "Definitely did jus' that, angel. I feel underdressed," he laughed, his hands laced behind her back trailing down the flared skirt of her dress.
"I think you look nice," she countered, drawing her own eyes down to the ink on his neck, the roses blooming as he swallowed.
"I look like I jus' came home from work," he said, laughing off her compliment.
"But, you came home to me," she murmured, unsure of what her point was, but knowing that there was no way he was ever going to look bad when he was coming back to their home.
His expression softened then, leaving only a single dimple dented in his cheek and a lopsided smile on his raspberry lips. "I did, didn't I?"
(Y/N) nodded up at him before Harry ducked his head down and pressed a kiss to her soft lips. She could feel her lip gloss sliding between their mouths, surely leaving a stain on his own though he didn't care with the way he slotted their lips together. It was a kiss full of affection, where his hands on the small of her back had her pressed to him. Tipping his head just so, he deepened the kiss with a taste of her lips on his tongue.
He pulled away first, only after smattering a string of pecks across her pout. He was rewarded with a plume of laughter fanning from her mouth.
"'M gonna get changed, but I'll be right back, 'kay?" he told her, untangling his arms from around her waist.
"Okay," she sighed dreamily, reluctant to let go of him though she was able to, instead, watch him walk to their shared bedroom instead.
He only turned around once to catch her admiring him.
—————
(Y/N) wanted to huff when Harry blocked her from reaching into the water-filled sink for the third time. She settled for planting her hands on her hips, and pouting at the back of his head.
"I can help, H. It's fine," she attempted to reason with him again.
As if he hadn't heard her at all, he continued with his hands in the soapy water, cleaning off the dishes they'd used for dinner. He'd already packed away the leftovers of the lasagna and stowed away the remaining half-bottle of wine she'd uncorked for the night; she wanted to help before the opportunity was gone.
Her pout only puffed out further, feeling a tiny bit like an insolent child when she debated if stamping her foot would catch his attention.
"Harry," she scolded.
"(Y/N)," he countered, parroting her scolding tone right back, "I've got it, my love. Jus' relax now."
"But we're supposed to be a team," she complained, "I'm not supposed to let you do this by yourself."
At that, Harry finally chanced a look over his shoulder at her. His eyes were tender, bright green against the refreshed liner he had applied when he changed before dinner. The lines of his face were soft as he gazed at her, his lips slightly curling while the line of his jaw held a rounded edge.
"We are a team, baby," he emphasized, wiping his hands down before turning to face her, "You made dinner, so 'm doing dishes. That sounds like teamwork to me, don't you think?"
(Y/N) opened her mouth before swiftly closing it, unsure of what to say to that. At the end of it all, deep in her chest where she didn't enjoy digging, was that fear that if she didn't pull her weight, show her worth as more than just a little playmate for Evie or someone to crowd the bathroom with all of her products.
But that wasn't exactly a romantic date night conversation, was it?
He waited patiently as she attempted to find her words, leaning back against the counter with an adoring gaze. When nothing coherent came from her lips, only a sputtering of a half-baked excuse, he reached towards her with gentle hands.
Grasping her waist over the structure of her dress, he pulled her towards him until she was flush to his chest. Only when she wrapped her own arms around his middle, fingers looping around his back, did he set a careful hand on her cheek.
Brushing stray hairs from her face, he tilted his head as a small smile touched his lips. "You know 'm still going to take care of you, right? Jus' because we live together now, doesn't change that. Y'don't have to prove anything—not to me."
With a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) swore she could have cried hearing his words. She melted into his hold instead, enveloping him in a warming hug.
He knew her better than anyone before, that much she knew. It was enough to have her heart breaking only to grow bigger so she could fit more of him inside.
"Love you," she murmured, the words muffled against his chest as she squished herself against him.
"Love you more, angel," he reciprocated, dotting a kiss to the top of her head. Shifting his hands on her, he moved until his palms landed on her hips. "So you're going to sit right here, and let daddy take care of you."
It was the amusement swimming in his eyes and the lilting in her voice that made it clear he was only teasing, prodding and poking at her to get her in a lighter mood, but (Y/N) only felt her skin heat at the use of that title. It was quite the adjustment to know that he could speak so boldly outside of the bedroom now that there weren't any kind of roommates that could walk in at the last moment.
In a daze, she stepped back as he herded her to sit up on the counter beside the sink. She was left with her legs dangling with her skirt fanned across her thighs, hands knotted in her lap, and her eyes on his back. The music she had connected to the small speaker continued to thrum through the room, soft and low, creating a soundtrack for the moment.
It was silly, to feel so entranced as she watched him do something as mundane as rinsing dishes, but that was definitely what she was feeling.
He hadn't even changed into anything special before dinner, only a black button down with embroidered white flowers and a pair of fitted black trousers. His hair was left down after adjusting some of the curls he'd mussed during work, the length falling longer than she'd seen it before.
Maybe it was the fact that she could still hear his teasing comment ringing in her ears, or how much she truly had missed him throughout the day, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. She watched as his shoulders tensed and flexed through the fabric, the line of his muscles down the length of his arm. A part of her wanted to reach out, drag her hand down his biceps and feel the way they bunched and released as he worked.
She felt herself growing impatient the longer he worked through the soapy water, despite knowing there wasn't much of a mess for him to clean up given the limited dishes. Without thinking, she swung her socked foot out and tapped against his leg, dragging over the back of his calf.
A huff of laughter left Harry's lips though he continued working with only a small glance at her. "Wasn't enough to jus' watch me? Gotta touch me, too?"
She felt flustered to be called out like that, as if she hadn't wanted his attention in the first place. She only managed a small shrug of her shoulders.
Shaking his head, Harry put the last rinsed plate into the dishwasher and drained the sink. He took his time drying off his hands before reaching for her crossed legs. Setting his hands on her thighs, she pliantly let him spread them apart before he came to stand between her legs, his hands settling on the full of her thighs with a lingering touch.
"What are y'thinking about, love? Got all my attention now, jus' like y'wanted, right?"
His gaze on her features was warm enough that (Y/N) swore she could feel a warmth in its wake, heavy and unrelenting. She blinked up at him, a flutter of her lashes as he grew breathless. "I don't know—just... You."
"Me?" he smiled, dipping his head down until he was level with her, "You've got a crush on me or something?"
His teasing was enough to have a laugh drawn from her lungs, dropping her hands to land on his own as they roamed over her thighs, dipping underneath the hem of her dress. "Stop," she giggled.
"Ooh," he sung, "You like me, don't you? C'mon, love, can't hide it from me. So obvious, isn't it?"
"Stop it," she laughed, letting go of his hands and instead opting to loop her arms around his neck in a controlling hug, "I don't have a crush on you!"
"You don't?" Harry whined, a pout audible in his voice, "But, why'd y'move in with me then if y'don't even have a crush on me?"
Hooking her ankle around the back of his leg. She murmured into his neck, "Because I love you."
His arms created a cradle around her back, keeping her close as he quieted in her hug. "I love you too," he hummed, "So much. Thank you for doing all of this for us, love—everything was perfect."
Her grin stretched wider over her cheeks, "I'm happy you liked it all. First date at our new house."
"Still gotta take care of a lot of firsts here, don't we?" His hands on her body shifted then, caressing the structure of her dress, the pads of his fingers tracing the detailing of the lace.
With the way his voice dropped—and the fact he'd said what he said only a handful of minutes ago—, (Y/N) had somewhat of an idea of what kind of firsts he was referring to.
The past week had been hectic to say the least. Nothing more than cuddling and a few stray kisses were shared in their new bed, their bodies not having energy for anything more after their long days of making their house a new home.
Tightening the loop of her arms around his neck, she clung to him as she nodded into his neck. "Yeah."
"Yeah?" he parroted, a smile in his voice. Turning his head, he pressed his lips into a string of kisses from her temple down to her cheek, lingering kisses that dragged over her skin. She could feel her blood warming in his wake, her lashes fluttering as her eyes came to a close.
"Yeah, daddy."
Harry pulled in a long breath at the sound of his title wrapped in her voice, the tip of his nose dragging across her cheek. Finally, he planted his lips on hers, slotting between her own.
With her arms around his neck, (Y/N) practically melted into him with the broad of his body keeping her upright. She half-expected him to smile into the kiss, a small tease over seeing how ready she was for something as small as a kiss, but he did nothing more than tilt his head and strengthen his grip on her form.
It wasn't until she felt the tip of his tongue sweep across her lower lip that she gathered they hadn't even so much as kissed like this since moving. She hadn't realized the week had been so hectic as to leave no time for anything more than a few kisses and their cuddling before passing out as soon as the sun fell.
She hadn't realized how much she missed him until that second.
Reciprocating his kiss, lips parting and inviting him in, (Y/N) hitched a thigh over his hip. She clung to him with her fingers working into the baby soft curls on the back of his neck in a soft tug. He let out a sigh into her mouth, his hands pulsing on her waist. With her position on the counter, every flex of his hands on her body, she was drawn closer and closer to the edge, leaving her to wrap her limbs instead.
His tongue ran over her own, the taste of the strawberry shortcake dessert lingering. She could feel the tip of his nose nudging into her own, tracing the bridge with every tip of their heads. The soft sound of their lips parting and coming together filled the kitchen, sounding over the music she still had playing from the small speaker.
Drawing away from her kiss, he started down her jaw to the column of her throat. (Y/N) tilted her head back, allowing him more access to her heated skin as he kissed down to the neckline of her dress. Her hands in his hair tightened.
"Where are you going?" she murmured.
"Gonna take care of you, remember?" he said into her neck, the words melting into her skin, "Jus' like I promised."
With that, he fell to his knees before her, settling between her own spread legs. Her hands shifted, now combing the strands out of his face as she looked down at him. His palms glided over her dress until he found the hem, pushing it up and over her thighs to wrinkle at her waist.
"That okay, baby?" he asked, suddenly breathless as his eyes met the small part of underwear she had covering her core.
"Uh-huh," she nodded her head, nails catching on his scalp.
He shot her a soft smile, enough to dot dimples into his cheeks before her attention was diverted to the feel of his hands sitting on her bare thighs. Hooking his fingers into the waist of her underwear, all she needed was to lift her hips just enough before he was pulling the fabric down her legs.
The way he looked at her then, after pulling the garment off and fitting his hands between her thighs to widen the gap, brought her back to the first night in his office at the tattoo parlor. He gazed at her like he'd never seen her before, like this was the first time all over again. He didn't have to say anything to let her know that he saw her as something special.
Planting his lips across the inside of her thigh, the tip of his nose and the fan of his breath brought goosebumps to layer over her skin. He dragged his mouth across the sensitive skin, using his grip on her thighs to keep her steady as he tugged her towards the very edge of the counter—and his face.
It wasn't until she could feel his breath skimming over closer to her pussy that her muscles bunched, her own lungs stuttering. He peeked up at her through the fan of his lashes, matching her eyes for a lingering moment, leaving her with no other option than to watch as he pressed his lips to the crease between her thighs and her core, her body jumping at the tickling shock that touched her spine. With her hands holding back his hair, her fingers flexed between the strands.
She could feel his smile against her skin as he closed that remaining distance, pushing his lips against her clit. She hadn't realized how wet she'd grown until she pulsed around nothing, her breath stalling. His nose mushed against her mound, his lips puckered around her clit in a sucking kiss. It was enough to have her toes curling, eyes fluttering.
He lingered on her clit, peeking up at her through the fan of his lashes, for a moment before dipping lower. (Y/N)'s throat ran dry as she watched his tongue sink between her folds, a small whine falling from her lips. A light flickered through his eyes then when he peered up at her, though he didn't stop to tease her or pull away to let out a huff of laughter. Instead, he kept her gaze as he skated the tip of his tongue down the length of her slit, lingering over her shuddering opening.
Her reaction—a choked moan, flexing hands, and shiver down her spine—was finally enough to have him smiling against her wetness. He pulled away just enough, his breath fanning across her core.
"Feel good, angel?" he asked, punctuating his words with a kiss to her clit.
With her mouth dropping open, (Y/N) wanted to answer, knew she had the words to give him, but nothing left her lips. She was left with a frantic nod of her head, wiggling until she was precariously dangling from the edge of the counter with her pussy right in Harry's face. His brows bounced over his eyes, a smug smile touching at the corners of his lips.
Expecting another teasing quip, (Y/N) readied herself to attempt to actually answer him, but her mind was drawn completely blank when he only dove back into her folds. His nose was pressed against her swollen clit, her wetness sliding around his chin. She could feel the motions of his tongue through her slit, his lips kissing her in-between each lick. Eventually, Harry couldn't manage to keep his eyes open, his lids falling closed as he buried his tongue among her taste, the tip peeking against her opening.
It wasn't until he wagged his head, spreading her folds around him with his hands keeping her shaking thighs from closing around him, that (Y/N) found her voice.
"H—Daddy, I—" she choked out, the call crackling and stilted through her lungs.
The mentioning of his title only spurred him on it seemed. He attempted to mutter something against her core, something lingering and drawled, though (Y/N) couldn't even begin to decipher his words as they were pressed into her pussy. The vibrations of his voice was enough to rattle through her, his nose still mushed into her puffy clit.
She just needed that much more, she thought, her toes curling at his back. With her hands in his hair, she attempted to get that more she needed, pulling him closer to her core in hopes of feeling him inside.
Harry's grip on her thighs tightened then, his eyes peeling open to match her cloudy gaze. Despite her hand in his hair, he drew away with the pillows of his lips barely dragging across her sensitive skin.
"Close already?" he asked, breathless.
"Y-Yeah, I'm sorry," she stuttered, swallowing around her dry throat, "I—"
Before she could finish her thought, Harry smeared one last kiss against her clit before he was parting her thighs and standing to the full of his height between her legs. She craned her neck to look up at him just as he fixed his palms to mold to the curve of her cheeks, bringing her in for a kiss. His lips were already swollen by the time he sealed them to hers, a taste lingering on his tongue. (Y/N) acted as his crash pad through the frantic shift, taking all of the affection he was pouring into her. She didn't have to see him to know there was a furrow dipping his brows, his eyes cinched closed as he kissed her with the same intensity he had shared between her legs. With the way he was flushed against her, keeping her upright on the countertop, it didn't take much to feel the bulge straining behind his pants.
Her breath caught. That wasn't something she'd never completely get used to—knowing he loved touching her enough to get his own satisfaction.
Harry only kissed her harder, this nose nudging against her own.
When his hands disappeared from her cheeks, sliding down the length of her body, she expected him to wrap underneath her thighs and hoist her up into his arms. Instead, he only lingered on the bare plush of her hips, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin.
"Baby," he breathed against her mouth, drawing just far enough away for the syllables to be audible. "I need to fuck you."
If her heart hadn't already been hammering into her ribcage, she's sure it would have started then, the vulgar words ringing in her ears.
Puckering her lips enough to close the space between the two of them, sharing a small kiss, she nodded her head. "Okay."
"Right here."
That had (Y/N) blinking her eyes open, pulling far enough away to peek at his still closed gaze. Instinctively, she wanted to protest, to tell him to take her to the bedroom where there was privacy and a locked door. But those were instincts that came before they had their own space, before they were void of roommates. There was no need to hide if Harry was the only one around to catch her in that pleasure.
When her pause lingered, Harry finally cracked his eyes open, the pupils dilated. She could see the darting of his gaze as he took in the details of her eyes, the fan of her lashes, the shape of her nose.
"Need me to stop?" he asked, his breathing coming out in heavy swatches.
"No, no," she answered in a rush, looping her arms around his neck, "Just... We don't have roommates."
A small smile curved his lips. "We don't."
"This is our house."
"It is."
"We can do this right here."
His grin grew. "We can do this right here."
(Y/N) couldn't help the beaming smile that took over her features. Taking advantage of her arms around his neck, she pulled him in for another kiss. It was messy, a bit off center with their mouths smeared across one another, though that was only because she couldn't completely erase her smile.
"Y'want to?" he murmured into her mouth, his hands on her hips sliding until he was palming the full of her thighs.
"Please," she answered, the word falling from her lips without a second thought. She could only imagine the dimple that bloomed into his cheek then.
Shifting between her thighs, he tipped his head to trail his lips onto her cheek. "Get me out, baby."
Her hesitation lasted only a moment before she processed his instruction, her hands sliding from where she had them around his neck. She had the privilege of tracing down his body, feeling the blocks of muscle on his abdomen and the soft pudge on his hips. Reaching the waist of his pants, her hands grew just a bit frantic, fumbling as she moved.
"'S alright, lovebug," he murmured to her, dotting his lips onto the height of her cheekbone, "Jus' me."
That was the problem, she wanted to tell him. She wanted him now, and she couldn't make it happen fast enough.
Unfastening the waist of his trousers, she pushed them down until they hit just the middle of his thighs. She brushed his skin, feeling the coarse hair on his thighs brushing her hands. Peeking between them, she could see the way his cock stood hard between his thighs, the black fabric of his briefs straining around him.
Hooking her fingers into the band of his underwear, she carefully pulled the garment down, tugging until they were in line with his trousers. His cock bobbed against his stomach, hitting the material of his shirt, with a glistening stain left in its wake.
Wrapping a leg around his hip, (Y/N) didn't even realize she was trying to pull him closer until she felt herself teeter on the edge of the counter. Harry caught her with a huff of laughter leaving his lips.
"Careful, love," he muttered, hooking an arm around her waist while the other stayed right on the full of her thigh.
"Sorry," she breathed, planting her hands on his chest though she couldn't keep her gaze off of his length, "I'm just..."
"Ready for me?" he said, posing a question as much as he was finishing her sentence.
"Yeah," she said, nodding her head with her fingers curling into the material of his shirt, "Please, daddy."
She swore she could see his cock jump at her words.
"Okay, baby," he told her, his voice stilted some, "Hold me, 'kay?"
Unfurling her fingers from his shirt, she curled her arms around his neck and hugged herself to his chest. His cock fit snug between them, the base pressed into her clit enough to draw a shaky breath from her lungs. Harry's own breath became strained, his chest stuttering.
He held her steady with his arm around her waist while his other slid from her thigh. She could feel the faint touches of his fingertips as he felt around, wrapping his fingers around his cock before lining up with her core. The first touch of his tip against her pulsing hole, her breath caught, her spine stiffening.
Giving her a moment to breathe, he ran the head through her fold. With every bump to her clit and lingering nudge against her opening, she was reminded just how close she'd been before when he had been on his knees between her thighs. She curled her leg around his own that much more, drawing him nearer.
"Good?" he crooned, the word coming out in a breath.
She didn't even think before, "Yes, daddy," was spilling from her lips.
That was all Harry needed to hear before the nudges turned into a full thrust of his hips, pressing his cock into her core. A whimpering moan built in her chest as he sheathed himself inside her, her walls parting for him with shuddering pulses. Harry had his own lingering moan that sounded in her ear, elongated and low as he finally got to feel her around him for the first time since moving in.
"Been too long," he panted, smearing his lips against the hinge of her jaw as she hugged him tighter.
"It-It's been a week," she told him, stuttering over her tongue as he reared his hips back. Feeling the ridge of his head glide against her and catching on her entrance was enough to catapult her heart to her throat.
"Too long," he affirmed, thrusting forward, his hand landing on her hip to keep her steady as she was pushed back at the force. "Too long for daddy not to have you, baby. Not gonna happen again, okay? Not since I've got you all t'myself now."
His words melted into her skin as he kissed down her jaw, his hips curating a pace that had her body pressing back into his anchoring arm. She swore she could feel his head reaching places she had forgotten existed until he was inside her. His base smushed into her clit every time he bottomed out, giving her a jolting touch before he disappeared again in favor of sinking through her walls. She was sure he could feel that jolt just as much with the way she tightened into a snug hold around his length.
"Not gonna happen again, daddy," she repeated, feeling a bit delirious as she threw her head back, just barely missing the edge of the cabinets as she presented more of her neck for him to kiss. "All to myself now."
She could feel the huff of his laughter fanning across her heated skin as his lips met the neckline of her dress. "You've got me all to yourself, baby."
Her thighs bunched around his hips, the muscles tightened when he removed his steadying hand on her thigh. She rocked against the counter with every thrust of his hips, the force knocking a small noise loose from her chest each time.
Curling his fingers around the corseted top of her dress, Harry pulled it down until her bare chest was put on display for the warm air between them to reach. Moving her hands up until she had her fingers dancing through the long curls of his hair, she combed her fingers through the strands as he kissed down her chest with his own hand landing on the thick of her thigh.
His lips planted a trail over her skin, outlining the swells of her breasts and the line of her cleavage before catching her nipple. The sucking kiss had the pit of her stomach twisting and tying into a tight spiral, knocking her lungs against her ribs in favor of making room for the warmth filling her abdomen. It wasn't a touch she was usually accustomed to, but every now and then, Harry toyed with her body just right to have the feel of his mouth on her chest rivaling that of his touch on her clit.
"Daddy," she squeaked, her fingers curled tight in his hair, "I think—I—"
"I know, love," he murmured against her chest, the tip of his nose skimming the flesh, "I can feel it. Y'cum whenever you're ready, yeah? Let daddy have it—I've missed it."
Even if it was a bit silly—something she may feel embarrassed over with a clearer mind—(Y/N) swore she could feel his voice against her heart, the rumble of his words sinking through her muscle and bone and straight to the pumping chambers.
"I missed you, too," she stuttered out, her tongue thick in her mouth, "Missed you fu—"
A pinch settled between her brows when she realized what she had been about to say.
"Missed me what, baby? What were y'gonna say?" Harry prodded, dragging his mouth up from her chest to land on the point of her chin in a searing kiss.
"Um—I don't know," she breathed, attempting to catch him in a kiss before he pulled just too far out of reach.
Between them, the sound of her folds parting for him with her slick making a mess of their legs sounded within the space, suddenly louder than any soft song that could be playing from her heart shaped speaker. Harry chanced a look down, catching the way his length glistened in the low remaining light with his mouth dropping into a small gape as his breath came out in pants. His arm around her back tightened, angling the small of her back just right to allow him deeper inside.
"Were y'gonna say y'missed me fucking you?" he asked, breathless as he couldn't tear his eyes from where they were joined.
Combing her fingers through his hair, she caught the long strands falling in his face. She swallowed around her dry throat. "May-Maybe," she peeped, stuttering through the word as he surged his hips forward in a particularly deep stroke.
A deep groan rumbled through his chest, his arm around her and his hand on her thigh tightening as he fell into her. His face was buried in her neck, his lips brushing the column of her throat.
"Will y'say it for me, angel? Please," he murmured, his voice pitching with the plea.
Had there been anything going on in her head, (Y/N) might have protested, just as she always playfully did when he poked about this same subject. But her head was too full and too empty at the same time. Her only feasible option was to give him what he wanted—especially when he was taking care of her the way he was.
"I-I missed you fucking me, daddy."
The heavy groan he let out dripped over her shoulder, warm and rumbling. His own curses filtered through after, his hips still knocking against her own with every stroke as he bottomed out inside her.
"Never gonna let it happen again, right, love?" he panted, sounding a bit delirious as he began to babble into her neck.
His bubbling words became the soundtrack as he felt his hand slip from her thigh to head between their bodies. He pressed his palm into her mound with his fingers stretching across the small of her tummy, leaving his thumb to dig right against the pad of her clit.
"Can y'say it again? Please?" he asked, bringing her back to the moment with decipherable words.
Her eyes fell closed, her too stimulated from everything to worry about the world beyond the cocoon of their bodies. Every muscle seemed to be bunched that much tighter, pressure leaking through until there would be nowhere else for it to go, but out.
"I-I'm so close," she whimpered, clinging to him as he mouthed at her throat, his cock twitching inside her, "Keep fucking me, H."
A moment later did (Y/N) feel the way he shuddered against her, his hips lingering once he bottomed out, only to roll against her. His mouth was in a gape at her neck though no noise came out, leaving him slack-jawed as the first paint of his cum roped out. Though he attempted to keep his thumb on her clit moving, he was far too heavy headed as he rolled his hips into hers, soaking in his own orgasm. Wetness flooded her walls, her insides shuddering as she felt each motion of his cock inside her, hyper aware of every ridge and minute rock of his hips.
"Fuck," he muttered, her first clue that he was floating back down to earth, "I love you—shit, 'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, why are you sorry?" she breathed, combing her fingers through his hair. She couldn't help but to wriggle in his hold, her own release teetering after feeling him cum inside her.
"I—You're supposed to be first," he said, breathing heavily into her neck once the last dredges of his pleasure seeped out of his system.
"I'm fine, it's fine," she smiled, pulling him from her neck only to press her lips to his, "It's okay, you d—"
Her words were choked off when he started circling her clit with new vigor, rearing his hips back just enough before stroking into her once more. Though he was slowly softening and she could tell the feel of her walls sucking around him was too much, he didn't do anything other than tuck his bottom lip between her two and work her back to the edge she had been balancing on.
It didn't take long for her muscles to bunch under her skin, her spine to stiffen, and stomach to mold into a tight ball. Her toes curled from where she had her legs wrapped around him, her fingers doing the same in his hair.
"'M here, baby," he murmured, smearing his lips against hers in a kiss, "Cum for me."
With a flutter of her lashes as her eyes fell closed and a bubbling call of his name falling from her tongue, (Y/N) felt every bunch of pressure in her body release. Her walls shuddered just as her lungs did, her breath stilted. A heat surged through her system that felt cold by the time it touched her fingertips and toes. Her clit pulsed under his thumb, her insides tightening around his softening cock and the mess he'd left inside her.
Harry worked her through it as best he could, letting her take her time in the clouds before every touch became too much for her. Though she kept her arms wound around his neck, she loosened her legs from around his waist, leaving him free to pull out with a slick sound filtering through the kitchen.
(Y/N)'s breathing came in pants as she closed her thighs around his hips, knocking his hand just off center enough to show him she'd had enough for the time being.
"Harry," she breathed, an aftershock reaching up her spine.
"(Y/N)," he answered just before giving her a small peck, a smile on his lips.
Hugging herself to him, jumping when her sensitive clit touched his soft cock, she tucked her head under his chin.
"We just had sex in our kitchen," she murmured into the dip of his collarbones.
A laugh fell from his lips, loud and boisterous. Arranging his arms around her to reciprocate her hold with his palms pressed into the planes of her back, he squeezed her that much tighter to his chest. "We did, didn't we?"
"Is that gross?" she peeped, suddenly hyper aware of the cold countertop under her legs. There wasn't much time left before she was sure there would be a bigger mess to clean up given just how slick her core felt.
He shrugged around her, giving her a kiss to the top of her head. "Did y'like it?"
She answered him in a shy nod as if she hadn't been begging him to fuck her just a handful of minutes before.
"Then, no, 's not gross."
Smiling into his throat, she melted into him. Even with the boning of her dress poking into her skin, the way her slick was beginning to cool on the inside of her thighs, she could see herself sticking to his moment for as long as she was allowed.
"I had so much fun with you tonight, baby," Harry muttered, his voice as soft as the touch of his lips to her hair, "Thank you."
"I had fun, too," she told him, peeling away just enough to look up at him with moony eyes, "Thank you for wanting to live with me."
Dimples appeared in his cheeks, his smile tender to match the way he looked at her. "Didn't have much of a choice, did I? 'S not normal to send half of m'heart to another house every night, is it?"
His corny, sticky-sweet words only served to make her heart bloat and reach for his own as if it could leap out of her chest if it tried hard enough. A bubbly laugh fell from her lips, (Y/N) hugging him that much tighter with her cheek laying against his chest.
"But, seriously," Harry amended, his voice void of amusement as he murmured against her hair, "Thank you for choosing me—I feel lucky everyday that I get to have a life with you like this."
Every bit of laughter in her chest waned out in favor of fluffy affection tickling the chambers of her heart. She nuzzled closer to him, basking in his warmth and the scent of his skin. She wondered how long it would be until she had those same notes imprinted on her, how long it would take for Harry to linger with notes of cherry on his clothing.
"I love you," she told him, sincerity dripping from each syllable.
"I love you more," he cemented, dropping a lingering kiss to the top of her head.
Before she had a chance to playfully argue back, Harry shifted his hold on her, adjusting his hands until they slid underneath her bottom. He lifted her from the countertop, (Y/N) clinging to him with a gasp escaping her throat.
"What are you doing?" she rushed out, wrapping her limbs around him as tight as she could manage.
A bubble of laughter plumed from him. "We've got to clean up and then look at the damage we left here. Or did y'plan on sleeping in your princess dress?"
The thought of spending the night in the boned corset without panties or even socks on had a frown embedded on her lips. "No. Clean first."
"That's what I thought," he smiled, carrying her off with a kiss planted on her temple.
On their way to the bedroom, (Y/N) laid her cheek against his shoulder, the walls of their home passing them by. Her gaze lingered on the photos of them littering the walls, the memories she'd made with him over the short time she'd had her Harry in her life.
She wondered how many picture frames the walls could hold. They had a whole lifetime now to share many more special moments, and she didn't want to miss a moment.
—————
ahhhh! im so happy I finally got this part of their story out!! thank you so much for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or anything at all :)
a something old blurb for the birthday boy. 2 and a half months late but who's counting
word count: essentially 3k, warnings: none
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He can feel tears prick his eyes the second they all start in on the song. All of his favorite people in one place, just for him, gathered around the cake you’re holding up. Suppose he’s someone who cries at birthdays now.
He’s just…bloody overwhelmed. Perhaps it’s all the tequila flowing through his veins but it feels like more than that. Thinking about how you somehow managed to surprise him with all these people to celebrate his birthday, that his friends - some of whom he hasn’t spoken to in ages, ranging from the lads from school to the friends he made in LA when he was 22 - all made the trek to London to be with him tonight. How he’s often the youngest in his group of friends and how it feels like just yesterday that meant being 19 in a group of 30 year olds and now it's being 30 in a group of friends on the other side of 40.
He’s fucking thirty.
It should send him into a spiral about where the time has gone and how it went by so bloody quick but right now, he’s just grateful for where it’s landed him. Right here. Surrounded by his favorite people on the planet, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the woman he’s going to marry, his best friend in the entire world. Ten years ago, he was getting monstrously drunk at a club with Grimmy and their mates, feeling both on top of the world and more alone than ever in ways only an incredibly famous 20 year old can. But here and now, he feels settled. He feels good. Like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes but also like he’s just getting started.
“....happppy birthday to yOouUuUou” everyone sings, all eyes on him as they wait for him to blow out the candles. He places his palm to his chest, trying to lock eyes with as many people as humanly possible, trying to say thank you with a look, doesn’t want to do a speech, not now. He just loves these people, he loves this life, he loves his birthday and –
He feels an elbow in his side and looks over at you, your face aglow from the absurd amount of candles you’ve squeezed onto the cake - he’s 30, not 87, thanks - your eyebrows raised in expectation.
“Cake’s fucking heavy, mate” you say and he throws his head back in laughter, smacking a kiss to your head before looking back out at the party.
“Sorry - know the wax ‘s getting everywhere, but just wanted to say -” he says, taking a deep breath, vision blurring a bit. “‘M so lucky and feel so grateful to you all for being here. Thank you’s never going to be enough. But you’ve all made me into the man I am today ‘nd I wouldn’t be me without you. So thank you and I love you, I love you, I love you.”
And with that, he takes a deep breath, squeezing you close and making a wish, wishing for every birthday to feel just like this, for the ability to make everyone in this room feel like they’re making him feel now as he blows all the candles out in one swoop. The party erupts in cheers and whoops and he barely has time to press another kiss to your cheek before he’s pulled back into the fray, bombarded with an endless stream of hugs, kisses, people rubbing his head and pressing glasses of tequila into his hand. He just feels like he could burst, is the thing. A room full of people who know him and love him and don’t want or need anything from him, just want to celebrate him for who he is. They’ve turned the music back on and he sways his hips and stomps his feet as he knocks back another glass, letting the beats wash over him as he gets lost in the crowd of friends.
It’s later, he’s tucked in a booth with the lads as he takes in the room around him, though it’s spinning a bit more than it was before. Tom’s got his arm around him and is telling the 18th embarrassing anecdote of the night, trying in vain to bury the fact that just moments ago he got a bit teary when he spoke about the first time they met. And that’s when he sees you across the way, laughing about something with Johnny. His eyes trace the line of your neck as you tilt your head back, the curve of your jaw, and then, as if you can sense him, your eyes lock with his.
It never gets old, this. It feels like electric currents are buzzing through his system when you smile at him, that just for him smile, as he tilts his head towards the doors leading out back, once, twice, three times, topping it off with a dramatic roll of his neck until you’re smirking, already making your way up to stand. He taps Tom on the thigh before sliding out of the booth and making his way over to where you’re waiting by the doors, instantly wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as the two of you duck outside.
It’s cold, but the heaters and fire pits around the patio help and he wraps himself around your back, matching you step for step as you head over to the corner railings, away from any prying eyes. You lean against the railing, looking up at the night sky, what you can make of it from the city lights. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.
“Y’ cold?” he asks and you’re shaking your head but he feels you shiver against him and that’s all the answer he needs, already pulling his suit jacket off despite your protests, and holding it out for you to put it on. “C’mon, ‘s my birthday wish.”
You shake your head and snort, sliding your arms into the jacket and turning around, wrapping your arms around his waist as you smile up at him. He shuffles you a bit closer to the heater, pressing a kiss to your cheek, brushing his knuckle along your jaw.
“Good birthday?” you ask softly and he’s already nodding, can’t believe you’re even asking.
“The best,” he says, “Can’t believe you did all this.”
“You really had no idea?”
“Surprised the shit out of me.” he says. “Y’ always get stressed when we’re running late for dinner so that’s the only reason I thought y’ were being jumpy.”
“Oiii–” you say, slapping him lightly as you laugh. “Not my fault you took ages to get ready. Man’s early for everything but the second you tell him what time to meet at a restaurant, he moves in bloody slo mo.”
“Heeey.” he whines, but there’s no heat behind it, pulling you closer and laughing when you do.
He can hear the party raging on from out here and he still just can’t wrap his mind around it. That he’s 30. That he’s gotten to live the life he has over the last ten years and he has all those people in there to thank. He’s bowled over, the love in that room radiating through his every pore. Not sure he ever knew he could be this loved.
He can feel your eyes on him and knows you’re letting him gather his thoughts, content to just stand there and patiently wait until he’s ready. Letting him do what he needs to do. Never pushing, or prying. Just knowing him. And loving him. And there’s just something about that, isn’t there?
“‘M just like…” he starts to say, stopping himself when he feels emotion clog his throat. “I cried 10 times already. Bloody Cal is here.”
“Easiest party planning of my life,” you say back softly, tightening your arms around him. “Everyone said yes immediately, they were so excited to celebrate you. Everyone in there really, really loves you.”
His breath gets caught in his throat at that, blinking back the tears that seem to permanently reside in his eyes tonight. He rests his hand along the side of your face, dragging his thumb along your jaw. Not sure what he did to get nights like this, to get you looking at him like that. He’s so, so lucky.
“I really, really love you.” you say softly and he just - he can’t explain the noise that escapes him as he crashes his lips against yours, tightening his grip on your jaw as he kisses you the way he’s been thinking about all night. You sigh against his lips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him, lips not daring to leave yours for a second, kissing you over and over again.
He could stand here forever, kissing you like this, but he has to breathe, eventually. He pulls back slowly, kissing along your jaw, cheek, temple before burying his head into your neck. You slide your arms up his back, hugging him around the neck and pulling him close, your hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck, scratching at the short hairs there. You just stand there for a minute, wrapped up in each other and this may just be his favorite part of the night. There’s something about knowing he’ll always have this. Your arms to fall into. And that’s the greatest birthday present a lad could ask for.
“Thank you so much for all this,” he mumbles into your ear. “Best birthday ever. Proper birthday.”
His heart skips a beat when he hears your delighted laugh, pulling back to get a glimpse of your face, the way your eyes are glowing as they stare back at him.
“I can’t believe you remember that.” you say with a laugh. “You were pissed and burning your mouth on a cheese toastie almost a decade ago when you said that.”
“Mmm, a cheese toastie,” he says, giggling at your eye roll. “Course I remember it. Think it every year. ‘S not a proper birthday unless you’re there. I love you so, so much.”
“Thanks for being born,” you say softly, leaning into his touch. “Greatest thing to ever happen to me. You.”
“Baby - ” he breathes out, but can feel emotion clogging his throat again, trying in vain to blink away the tears your words made spring to his eyes. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hand shaking not just from the cold. A lifetime of knowing you and you still make him weak at the knees.
“Y’ make every day feel like my birthday, y’ know that?” he says softly, feeling like he’s found the right words for the first time tonight. “This party ‘nd this night is incredible. But nothing - nothing - compares to getting to go home with you every night. Greatest gift I ever got.”
He can see the words hit you, the deep breath you take as your eyes rake over his features, smile twitching at your lips as you look at him with such love in your eyes he feels his heart skip a beat. You’re looking at him like you always look at him, really, really seeing him with nothing but utter love in your eyes. God. There aren’t words for that, are there?
You pull him in, kissing him hard, like you’re trying to pour every ounce of love from your mouth to his and he’s more than happy to drink it up. Drink you up. Drink you in. His favorite taste, his favorite mouth, his favorite person on his favorite day.
His hands squeeze you tighter, living for the way you lean into his touch as it rakes down your back, settling on your bum. He could lose himself in this, in you. But you both seem to become aware of your environment at the same time, deep kisses slowing into gentle pecks before you drag your lips up his jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you pull him close, hugging him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist as he sinks into your hold. He nuzzles his head into your neck, breathing you in, as he slowly sways the two of you, the party mere background noise to the sounds of your steady breathing, the feel of your hands carding through his short hair.
It’s a while before he moves, slowly, begrudgingly, pressing a kiss to your neck and tightening his arms around you before mumbling, “I’ve got a crazy idea,” into your skin.
He lifts his head to look at your face, can see your eyes twinkling, already bracing yourself for what he’s about to say, already in on the joke. It’s a bit he’s been doing every few weeks at this point, ever since you set the date.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” you ask, unable to stop the smile growing on your face as you slide your arms down his shoulders, resting your hands on his biceps.
“Was thinking - since y’ did such a good job planning this party… what do y’ say we throw another one? Like, end of June maybe? Right after your birthday?” he says, pretending to actually mull over those dates, trying to remain deadly serious while your lips twitch into a smile.
“Hmm. I think I could be down for that.”
“Yeah? Same guest list, bit more of your friends. Some family maybe. Could do it in Italy, near the house.” he says, trying to keep up the bit but the reality of what he’s saying is catching up to him, the familiar tears making an appearance again as he chokes out his next words. “Y’ could wear white.”
“And you could wear a suit.” you say softly, eyes never wavering from his. “Maybe get a new ring.”
“Yeah. You’d like that?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your face when you nod. “You wanna marry me, baby?”
“I really, really do.” you say, the look in your eyes making his heart beat out of his chest.
“Four months,” he says quietly, almost in disbelief of his luck, his life. “You’re gonna be my wife in four months.”
He can’t tell who moves in first after that, both of you clutching on for dear life as you just about snog the living daylights out of each other. He’s never wanted to ditch a party more in his life. Just wants you, your bedroom, and several hours to even begin to express all he’s feeling right now, all he wants. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you.
You softly moan into his mouth and he just about loses his mind, thinking about he’ll have a lifetime of getting that sound out of you, just for him. He pulls you impossibly closer as he drags his tongue over yours, keeping your jaw in a tight grip. He could die here, actually. He’d die a happy man, being slowly taken apart by your mouth.
“Oiii!!!” Johnny’s voice through the open door has the two of you springing apart in shock, though he doesn’t let you get far, burying his head in your neck as he moves his hand off your jaw to flip Johnny off.
“If you’re both done rubbing against each other out here –”
“Oh grow up, Johnny!” you shout at the same time Harry lets out a “You wish!” that has you smacking him against the head as he laughs.
“The Holmes Chapel lot did promise Hometown Hero over there a birthday shot.” he slurs and Harry begrudgingly pulls away from you to twist towards the doors, pulling your back into his chest as you both face Johnny, his hands resting on your shoulders. “And we’ve been waiting bloody ages –”
“So bloody dramatic,” you huff and Harry laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.
“We’ll be right in,” he says watching as Johnny rolls his eyes, holding up a hand to indicate “you’ve got one minute”, as he turns back inside and closes the door behind him.
“Suppose we better go in,” you say, turning to look at him over your shoulder and he all but swells with pride at the look of you, the swollen lips and slightly messy hair. He tilts your chin a bit more towards him and kisses you once more, squeezing your shoulder before taking a step back. You shrug out of his jacket despite his groan, handing it back to him as you bring your hands up to attempt to smooth down your hair.
“Let’s go, old man.” you say and he squawks, sliding the jacket back on before giving you a cheeky smack on your bum, which you try in vain to dodge before reaching for his hand, interlacing your fingers and heading back into the fray.
The night spirals from there in the best possible way and while he may not remember every conversation he had, every song he danced to, every shot he took, he’ll always remember the way that room made him feel, the love radiating towards him, overwhelming him, inspiring him, fortifying him. He’ll always remember the feeling of your hand in his, the way your body felt against his own, and later, the taste of you on his tongue. Feeling like he could do anything with you by his side, your love making him feel like the greatest version of himself. Like the best is still yet to come, if that's even possible.
Proper birthday.
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a/n: the way i literally had 3/4 of this written on february 1st and then could not get myself to finish it. but here we areeeee baby. hope people are still interested. i really like it and couldnt let it go. let me know what u think love u mean it
Maisy and Harry are just friends (except they aren't)
Summary: It all started with the prompt "we're not just friends and you fucking know it", and then it turned into several short scenes about two people who are supposed to be just friends, except they aren't.
ONE-SHOT
AU, friends to lovers, angst, romance, sweetness, smut
+18 (explicit language and explicit sexual content)
25k words
It took less than five minutes for a girl to approach him.
Maisy sighed and leaned back in her chair, sipping her almost-empty-drink and watching the scene take place right in front of her.
To be fair, she wasn't surprised. In fact, before Harry had left the table to get another round of drinks, she'd thought about making a joke and bet how long it would take for a girl to divert him from his task. In the end, she didn't say anything, of course. First because she worried he wouldn't find it funny, but mostly because she was afraid he would see right through her words and notice how terrified she was about the possibility of seeing him with someone else.
So, yeah, she wasn't surprised, but that still didn't mean she wasn't upset. After all, she had spent the entire day secretly hoping things between them would be different now.
"You're staring," Niall muttered next to her, taking the seat Harry had been occupying until a couple of minutes ago. "Already told ya, if you want him, talk to him."
Maisy scoffed, shaking her head as if she could also shake his words away. Niall was sweet, but he was also oblivious to the fact that Harry already knew about her feelings and, still, nothing had changed. Although, if she really thought about it, maybe things were even worse now.
Ugh, why was he acting like that? Why did he keep pretending nothing had happened?
Harry was one of her closest friends, and one of the things she loved the most about him was how sweet and thoughtful he was to everyone around him, especially to those he cared about. That's who he'd been to her since the first day, at least. So even if he didn't feel the same, surely she wasn't expecting for him to simply ignore her feelings.
Over a week had passed and she hadn't talked to anyone about it. As the days went by, it became obvious that the more she thought about what had happened, the more anxious she felt. She figured she deserved to be honest and talk to someone, so she straightened her body and pushed her shoulders back, turning towards Niall and taking a deep breath before finally letting the words out of her mouth.
"We kissed."
Niall pulled his beer away from his face and turned his head, facing her with an open mouth and widened eyes. "Wha—Who? You and Harry?"
Maisy nodded, and Niall jerked his body closer.
"What the fuck?! You two kissed? When? How?!"
His reaction made her chuckle, but she dismissed his excitement by shrugging and finishing her drink before speaking again—as if the story wasn't that important or that interesting (and as if they both didn't know that was obviously a lie).
"He just came over last week and… I don't know. We kissed?"
It sounded more like a question, like she wasn't sure it had actually happened. But it had. The kiss was real. It had happened and it had made her feel all kinds of different and exciting things. And now she couldn't stop thinking about doing it again. And again. And again.
"Right," Niall scoffed. "Just like that? After five years hanging out together, out of nowhere, you both just thought you know what? Let's kiss today. Might be fun!?"
Maisy didn't know how to answer that, so she rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. Niall definitely had a point, and maybe in a couple of weeks—or months, or years—she'd be able to explain it better, but right then and there she honestly didn't have an answer. It wasn't supposed to happen and it definitely was not what she had in mind when she invited him over, but they were having fun and laughing and at some point she felt something shift in the air and she just… She just kissed him.
Just like that.
Maisy kissed Harry.
And then Harry kissed Maisy.
A lot.
The memory made her cheeks turn hot, and her belly fluttered. She turned back to the table and looked down, fixing her eyes on her fingers and picking at her nails.
Niall must have sensed her uneasiness, because he didn't pressure for an explanation, moving on to the next question with a softer tone.
"Does he know you like him, then?"
Maisy shrugged.
"He must know. I mean, he has to know…" She tapped her foot on the ground, narrowing her eyes as she stared at her fingertips, "right?"
She lifted her eyes just a second, just to question him, and Niall dropped his shoulders.
He moved closer, throwing his arm over the back of her chair. "Isy…"
She shook her head, then focused back on her nails. "You said it yourself, Ni, we hang out all the time… And, I mean, he stays over a lot, and we cuddle, we hold hands… I don't do that with everyone. You know that. He knows that. And also, I don't know, why would I kiss him like that? Out of nowhere?"
"Because it wasn't out of nowhere."
"Exactly!" She looked up, and her eyes landed on Harry once more. Maisy sighed. "It wasn't."
The girl was still there, talking to him, casually laughing and flipping her hair. And Harry seemed really into it, happily paying attention and nodding to whatever the girl was saying. Smirking so fondly that Maisy could even see his dimple.
Her chest tightened, and her stomach swirled.
"God," Maisy laughed bitterly and shortly, rubbing her forehead as she looked away. "I'm so stupid."
"Isy," Niall sighed, "Stop. You're not stupid."
"I am, though." She shrugged. "It's just… He never looked at me that way, you know?"
Her voice cracked, and she took both hands up to her face, hiding behind them with an exaggerated grunt. "Fucking stupid…"
Niall took his hand to her shoulder and sighed, offering half a hug as he squeezed her gently. "That's not fair, Isy. You know how incredibly amazing you are. And to be honest you're just so out of his league. So much better than anyone he could ever date. So he is the stupid one for not seeing what's right in front of him, ok?"
Maisy shook her head. She knew Niall meant well, but she also felt like he didn't understand where she was coming from. See, Maisy knew that Harry liked her, and how much he trusted her — after all, that's why they were friends in the first place. She knew that she was important to him and that she was the first person he'd call or the one he'd run to when he needed something. She knew Harry would let her cry on his shoulder, hold her, share a bed with her, and listen to whatever she had to say. Dates would come and go in his life, but she was still there and he wouldn't let go of her.
So it wasn't like he didn't know what (or who) was in front of him.
Harry just didn't fancy her. Simply as that. He didn't dream about her in the same way she dreamed about him. And he had never treated her the same way he treated the girls he fancied on their nights out. He had never offered to buy her a drink just because he thought she was pretty, nor had tucked her hair behind her ear just to kiss her neck. He'd never rested his hand on her leg under the table, nor whispered in her ear how badly he wanted to take her home.
Harry had never shown any signs of being physically attracted to her, and that really, really, freaking fucking sucked. Because there was nothing she could do about that. She couldn't force him to want her like she wanted him.
"Do you want to leave?" Niall squeezed her shoulder. "'Cause I think we should."
Maisy nodded, then dropped her hands down to the table. "Yeah, please. Let's just go."
"Ok, great." He smiled, relieved at the idea of taking his best friend away from there. "'M just gonna pee and we'll go, ok? Be right back."
Nodding to Niall's words and watching him walk away, Maisy couldn't help but glance over them one more time.
Without a doubt, if Maisy had a choice, she wouldn't actively compare herself to others, knowing it was an unhealthy and worthless habit. Then again, she didn't notice she was doing it until it was too late and her throat felt too dry to even breathe. Because everything about the girl standing in front of Harry seemed perfect, and everything about Maisy sitting at that table by herself seemed ridiculous — she hadn't even at least showered after work, for God's sake!
There were so many differences between her and that girl that it seemed impossible not to feel embarrassed about even thinking something could happen between them, or about even feeling something just platonic for him.
Besides the fact that the girl was extremely attractive, or that her hair was long, wavy and shiny, or that her dress hugged her figure amazingly, it was obvious that her body language screamed confidence and determination.
And she wasn't doing anything wrong, really, but Maisy wanted to push her away from him as soon as she saw her raise her body to whisper in his ear, touching Harry's arm and making him smile. It only got worse when Harry leaned in and tucked a lock of hair behind the girl's ear, letting his hand slide from her shoulder to her hand, and then resting it on her waist. He smirked, then whispered something back to her.
"'M back, let's go." Niall stood in front of her, frowning while blocking up her view. "'M gonna walk you home, then I'm gonna punch Harry's fucking stupid face. C'mon."
— — — — —
Maisy had a feeling it was Harry as soon as she heard the knock on her door, hence why she wasn't surprised to see him standing in the middle of the hallway. Still, it was barely past midnight, so seeing him there didn't make much sense—wasn't he supposed to be with the girl?
"Heyyy Haz!" She smiled, trying her best to appear nonchalant despite the fact that she had just spent thirty minutes crying over him in the shower. "Thought you were still at the pub."
"Can I come in?"
The tone of his voice was one she couldn't recognize, and Maisy froze for a moment. She blinked at him, taking in the intensity behind his glare and the tension all over his face. Her smile faltered, and she furrowed her brows.
"I—Yes." She took a step aside and raised his hand, showing him the way as if he hadn't simply barged in any other time up until then. "Of course."
Harry stared ahead and walked in, radiating so much tension and heat that Maisy's heart skipped a beat, then immediately sped up. She swallowed, closing the door before following his steps to the living room.
As seconds went by, he didn't turn to look at her, and she was able to spot a slight trace of red lipstick on his neck. It was hard not to picture him and the girl together, but it was even harder not to think about how it had felt to tangle her own fingers through his curls while tasting that same bit of skin. And it hurt that, no matter how much she wished she could kiss him again, somebody else had done that already just earlier that night.
"Are you ok?" she asked, pushing the memories away. "Did—Did something happen?"
Harry snorted. "I don't know. You tell me."
Maisy frowned, scrunching up her face and blinking a few times while trying (and miserably failing) to organize her thoughts.
"What? I—What's… What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry remained silent, though, and her chest tightened. Closing her hands into fists, she licked her lips and took a breath in, then looked him up and down.
"Haz, please…" her voice trembled, but she still tried. "What's going on? Talk to me."
Nothing changed, and she swallowed.
"Can you at least look at me? Please? I don't—"
"Why?!" He turned around, then, so abruptly that Maisy's mouth fell open as she took a step back.
"Why didn't you talk to me? Huh?!" Harry glared at her, his jaw tightened and his brows snapped together while he threw his hands in the air and raised his voice. "Why did I have to go through a massive fight with Niall to find out that you have—That you—I mean—" he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. A moment passed while he took a deep breath, only for him to give a humorless laugh right after. "Jesus, it's so absurd I can't even say it."
"What…Why—Why are you so mad at me?" She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing Harry wasn't making any sense, but at the same time scared for what she thought he was implying. Had Niall gone back to the pub? He had walked her home only a couple of hours earlier, they'd talked a little, she'd cried on his shoulder, and then he'd left. She hadn't thought about where he would go next, just assuming he'd go straight back to his place, but maybe she'd been wrong? She just… She didn't… What was happening? "I—I didn't do anything. I don't even… I don't even know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about the fact that Niall just yelled at me for half an hour for apparently breaking your heart, Maisy. That's what I'm talking about!"
There was a pause. A long and painful pause.
Harry's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, fists clenched while his arms remained at his sides and he glared at her.
Standing a few feet across from him, Maisy's eyes welled up with tears. She knew Harry like she knew the palm of her hand, and out of all the times she'd imagined him finding out, anger had never been present. Shock? Sure. Sadness? Yes. Worry? Also yes. Pity? Almost every time. She'd imagined many things, and different emotions. Everything. Anything. But never that.
She'd never thought he would ever throw words at her so carelessly, so loudly, and so harshly. On top of that, she also didn't think she deserved them. Because, really, what had she done besides stupidly falling in love with him? She'd never gotten in his way nor stopped him from living his life. So, yeah, truly—why was he so mad at her?
She swallowed down her tears and clenched her teeth, blinking rapidly as adrenaline rushed through her veins.
"Oh, I see." She took a step closer and nodded, straightening her body and allowing her hands to talk along with her own raising voice. "So what? Niall tells you that you broke my heart and this is your reaction? What the hell Harry?! Did you really think this was a good idea? Coming back to my place in the middle of the night just to yell at me?! What were you thinking?!"
Harry flinched, and blinked. A mix of emotions flashed through his eyes, until he settled with anger once again.
"Of course I didn't think or plan this, Maisy! That's exactly why I'm here. I'm trying to understand because it doesn't make any sense!"
"What doesn't make sense?"
"Everything was fine, Maisy!"
She rolled her eyes and looked away, taking her hand up to pull her hair back and letting him say whatever he wanted to say.
"So I don't get it, ok?! I don't! And we were having fun tonight! Man I met this amazing girl, and was just about to take her home when Niall started yelling at me. For fucks sake! Out of nowhere! Of course she left and now I'm—"
"Okay, okay. Stop," she interrupted, holding her palms up and staring back at him. "Just… Just stop, please."
Harry frowned even deeper, and a long, low sigh fell through Maisy's lips. There was no point in arguing with him, and she knew that.
"I get it, okay?" she added. "And I'm very sorry for ruining your night with this amazing girl. I swear I didn't mean to. I left the pub just so I could come home and cry by myself. So trust me, I didn't want to bother you with this, ok? And I swear to God I didn't want Niall to go back and tell you about it. I didn't want any of this to happen. So I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."
She dropped her weight on the couch and breathed in, then slowly rubbed her temples and breathed out.
It was the realization of how exhausted she sounded that made Harry stop and pay attention to her for the first time since she'd opened the door. He noticed the lack of energy, the way she covered her face, the way she hunched her body as if she needed to hug herself. As if she needed to protect herself.
It only took one second and one attentive glance for all of his anger to melt away, and a big wave of guilt crashed into him.
Unfortunately, though, Harry didn't know how to handle that situation. It was a new dynamic between them, a new path for a friendship that wasn't supposed to take that turn. So he continued justifying himself, although much more carefully than before.
"It took me by surprise, y'know? That's all. I was—" He shut his mouth and shook his head, exhaling before going back to explaining himself. "It doesn't matter. The thing is that Niall just came out of nowhere, so mad at me, Isy… I couldn't understand what was going on, and then he was blaming me for breaking your heart and talking about how you—saying that you have—I mean—That you have—"
"That I have, what?" With closed eyes, she dug her fingertips into her forehead, then shrugged. "Just say it, Harry, c'mon."
He frowned, unable to move.
"Is it true? Do you?"
"Again, what?" Letting out a hollow laugh, she dropped her hands down to her lap and looked at him. "You have to at least say it."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because it doesn't make sense! It— it can't be true. We are just friends and—"
"Oh, c'mon Harry!" She stood up, taking a step forward if only to make sure he wouldn't ignore her next words. "We're not just friends and you fucking know it."
"No! I don't—I mean, yes. Yes we are. We're just friends, Isy!"
"Just friends? Really?"
"Yes!"
"Well…" She shrugged, and looked away. "Not to me then, I'm sorry."
Harry took a step back and widened his eyes. And then, he blinked, pulling his hair back with one hand and resting the other on his hip before glancing down at his own feet.
Maisy sighed. A tiny part of her wanted to grab him by his shoulders, shake him up, and yell at him to wake up. Just shout at him. Prove him wrong.
However, she had no more energy to fight him. Not about that, at least. Her body felt too heavy to even move and her heart had changed into a slow thud inside her numb chest. Harry was her favorite person, but at that moment all she wanted was to be alone. It wasn't her intention to make him angry, let alone disappoint him, and knowing that she'd put them both in that situation only made her feel even more ashamed.
So she decided to be honest. Too exhausted to argue, she decided to stop fighting or running away and just say what she'd been thinking since she'd left the pub earlier that night.
"Look… I don't think we're just friends, Haz. I'm just friends with Niall. I've known him for over 10 years and I've never kissed him. God, I never even thought about kissing him. He slept over plenty of times, but he never asked to cuddle with me, and he never held me the way that you do. Last week I… I kissed you and you kissed me back, Harry. And maybe I got it wrong, but… But you really made me feel like you fucking wanted to, y'know? We weren't drunk, we kissed for hours and we didn't even have sex. We kissed and then you stayed and you fell asleep with your arms around me. And then you woke up and you—" Her voice cracked, and she knew she needed to take a deep breath if she wanted to continue. Maybe reliving every single detail was too much, maybe she didn't need to do that. "Anyway, no, ok? No. You and me, Harry? We're not just friends, and even if you can't say it out loud or believe it's true, I do have feelings for you. I've had feelings for you for a long time now and to be honest, yeah, you really… I'm sorry but you really broke my heart tonight."
Even with all the chatter around him, Harry caught the soft thump of someone's boots across the busy studio. It was like his mind was searching for the perfect excuse to get distracted, because he instantly dropped the task he was supposed to be doing and focused on the sound, instead. From there on, every noise caught his attention — Nina's fingers tapping against the keyboard, Johnny's phone ringing, Jenny and Patrick laughing as they filled their mugs with coffee, Maria and Julia whispering by the windows.
Despite not seeing anyone, he somehow kept up with everyone's movements and conversations. Meanwhile, displayed on the screen in front of him, the design he was supposed to be working on since he'd arrived that morning—and that he was also supposed to deliver to a client in less than thirty-six hours—remained untouched.
"You look like shit," Niall's voice pointed out from behind him, and Harry stiffened on his seat.
He knew Niall had been right behind him all along. Of course he knew. It wasn't as if he could've expected anything differently. After all, that's how the two had met: they'd joined the agency on the same day and were assigned to sit back to back from each other, then the rest was history.
Since then, that monday was the first day in over five years they still hadn't said even one word to each other. It was weird, to be honest, but they were both still resentful from the events of last friday's night, and too stubborn to handle the situation any differently.
So, yeah. To sum it up, Harry knew Niall had been there all along, but he wasn't expecting to engage in a conversation with him. Not yet. Not for another couple of days.
Still, Harry cleared his throat, and shrugged.
"Yeah, well…" he said, keeping his eyes on the screen. "I feel like shit."
Niall made a sound that resembled a hum, but then got quiet. And Harry wasn't sure of what he could say next, or if there was anything to say at all, so he breathed in and waited in silence.
No matter how confusing the latest events of his life had been, if there was one thing Harry was still sure of, it was that Niall and Maisy cared about each other like brother and sister. And that whilst he'd been easily welcomed into the group by the two of them, their friendship already lasted for over a decade, so it would always come first. And he was ok with that, he understood that. Niall knew Maisy in a different way than Harry did, and she would tell Niall things that she would never talk to him about, so there was no point in competing with them. It wasn't even something he would ever try to do, to be honest.
"So…" Niall cleared his throat. "You went to Isy's."
And there it was.
Harry closed his eyes.
See? Of course Niall already knew about that.
Sure, it didn't bother him, and it also wasn't a surprise, but… What was he supposed to say? He didn't even think Niall would want to talk to him, so what was he supposed to expect out of that conversation? As far as Harry knew, he had broken Maisy's heart and she wasn't talking to him anymore. And that was it. He had fucked everything up — before he even knew there was something to fuck up in the first place.
Bloody hell.
Harry sighed, then glanced at the screen in front of him.
To be completely honest, he had spent the last 48 hours trying to understand what the hell had happened, wincing every time he remembered Maisy's words and shuddering every time he thought about how he'd left her crying by herself on the couch.
Those same 48 hours had made him feel all over the place, everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. He was all by himself the entire weekend, locked at home, having to occupy his mind with random, meaningless and stupid little things so he wouldn't drown in his own thoughts. Surely, it wasn't the first time they hadn't seen or talked to each other for a couple of days — although it was something rare to happen — but it was the way they'd left things that kept tormenting him.
He still had so many questions, because he needed so many answers. He wanted to know more about what had happened, about what had changed, or when, or why…
And he was also desperate to know what would happen next, because… Well… What was he even supposed to do after all that?
Harry rolled his chair around, getting himself out of his own spiraling thinking.
Niall was already facing him, glaring at him. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs extended forward, clenching his jaw and flaring his nostrils as if he was trying to set Harry on fire.
Clearly, it was safe to say Niall was still mad at him. And Harry didn't blame him — he was mad at himself, too.
He rolled his shoulders, and finally asked, "Did she tell you about it?"
Niall shrugged once. Briefly and quickly. "Kinda."
Harry nodded. He took one of his hands out of the pocket of his jumper and lifted it to the back of his neck, then massaged some of the stiffness away. There were so many things he wanted to ask, it was hard to choose where to start. He also didn't want to say the wrong thing and have Niall trying to physically fight him again. Things were already bad enough as they were, there was no need to add more drama into it.
Moving his hand from his neck to his face, he dragged his eyes to the floor and pinched his lip, pulling the skin as he voiced the next question.
"When did you see her?"
"Yesterday."
Harry nodded again, eyes still on the floor and fingers still on his bottom lip.
Across from him, Niall narrowed his eyes. He wasn't just messing around when he'd said Harry looked like shit. A beanie hid his hair, his shoulders were rigid, he hadn't shaved, his jaw was clenched, and he kept constantly squeezing his eyebrows together. Also, judging by the bags under his eyes, he didn't seem to be sleeping that well — or he didn't seem to be sleeping at all.
Should he be worried? He'd checked on Maisy a lot, but maybe he should've checked on Harry as well, because maybe this whole situation had also messed him up, even if for different reasons. Maybe Harry also needed a friend.
Shit.
Niall took a deep breath and uncrossed his arms, letting his shoulders fall as he straightened his back. "You honestly look like shit mate, did you sleep at all this weekend?"
Harry finally glanced over, shaking his head.
"I'm just…" He pressed his lips together, scratching his jaw before letting both of his hands fall on his lap. "She hasn't been answering any of my calls."
Niall lifted then dropped his eyebrows, nodding as if he knew exactly what Harry was talking about.
"Yeah, well…" He shrugged. "I don't think she will, to be honest."
Harry nodded, and looked away.
He probably deserved that.
— — — — —
"Thanks," Harry said to the waitress as she placed two beers and some fries on the table.
As soon as she walked away, he grabbed a bottle and took a sip, giving himself a few more seconds before asking the question he really wanted to ask.
"How is she?"
Niall's hand was full of fries, midway to his mouth, and Harry didn't miss the way he froze for one second before looking at him and engulfing them. He didn't finish eating before answering, mumbling the words as he chewed, "She's hurt. And you know how she gets when she's hurt."
"Fuck." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, pulling his head back and sighing to the ceiling. It killed him to know he'd been the one to make Maisy suffer, it killed him that she didn't let him hold her when she cried, and it killed him how she begged him to leave her alone because his presence was only making it worse. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I would never mean that."
Niall scoffed, and Harry glanced down again. He found his friend eating fries absently, as if he wasn't part of the conversation anymore. Scanning them carefully before picking one and shoving it into his mouth. And then another one.
Harry frowned. "What? You know I didn't mean to hurt her, right?"
Niall peeked at him through the corner of his eyes.
"Well…" He tilted his head from side to side, then shifted on his seat and rubbed his hands together, cleaning up the salt. "Look, you didn't mean it. Fine. But I don't think you worried about it either, alright? I mean, you walked to the bar to get Isy a drink and didn't come back 'cause you wanted to hook up with some random chick. Which, by the way, was already a problem in the first place 'cause she had to watch you flirting around. But then, after I told you she has feelings for you, you went back to hers and blamed her for not getting laid? That's fucked up man, c'mon."
"She told you I blamed her for not getting laid?"
Niall lifted his eyebrows. "Didn't you?"
"I—I don't know, I was just freaking out. You saw when I left the pub, I wasn't even thinking."
"Clearly," Niall snickered, then looked around the pub as he took a deep breath. "Look, she didn't want to say anything 'cause she didn't want to lose your friendship… And, yeah, maybe part of this mess it's on me, 'cause… Well, 'cause I told you about it, alright? But… Mate… Look, you didn't see how hurt she was when she saw you at the bar, ok? You didn't think about her, and that really, really pissed me off."
Rubbing his jaw, Harry rolled his neck and sighed. It was true, Harry didn't see how much it hurt Maisy to see him at the bar. He actually didn't even know Maisy was watching as the girl approached him, but even if he did, he wouldn't have thought it was something that would hurt her. Sure, she would probably tease him for ditching them, or pinch him for leaving her waiting for her drink… But feeling hurt? As far as he knew, that wasn't even an alternative.
"I don't… I don't get it." He shrugged. "It's not like she never saw me with a girl before. I mean, I've been single since we met, and that's over five years, man. She's the one who had a boyfriend for two fucking years and you never saw me say a word about it."
"Huh," Niall scoffed, curving his lips up as he took his beer to his mouth. He took a sip, then murmured behind the bottle, "I had no idea Maisy having a boyfriend bothered you."
Harry tilted his own bottle, pointing at him. "That's not what I said. My point is, she knows I hook up every now and then. We always talked about it, and it was never a problem before."
Rolling his eyes, Niall sighed. Harry was really getting on his nerves with those stupid doubts.
"Well, obviously, this time was different."
"But why? Why was it different this time? What changed?"
"What changed?" Niall laughed, humorlessly and unbelievably, banging his beer against the table and inching forward. He wouldn't expect a kiss to mean something when it came to random hook ups, but he also wouldn't expect Harry to treat Maisy like a random hook up. Harry knew her better than that. And Maisy deserved better than that. Harry couldn't just kiss her and act as if it hadn't happened. He just couldn't. Niall wouldn't allow that. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Or are you just that stupid?!"
"Wha—"
"You two fucking kissed, mate! C'mon!"
"I—"
"You do remember that, right?"
Harry scoffed. "Of course I remember!"
"Of course you remember." Niall rolled his eyes and shook his head, chuckling at how dense his friend could be. "Then what? Are you trying to pretend it didn't happen?"
Harry shook his head and stared down at his hands, one of them holding the bottle as the other played with the sticker on it. Of course he wasn't trying to pretend their kiss hadn't happened. He just didn't think it was something that would happen between them, and when it did, he didn't think it would go further than that. He didn't think Maisy saw him that way. Maybe at first, years ago, when they'd just met. But once he realized she'd put him in the friendzone, he didn't think he would ever get out of there. And he'd made peace with that. He put the idea away and locked it inside his mind. But he also wasn't sure if any of that made sense, and he didn't want to say something that would make it seem as if he didn't care about Maisy. Because he did. He cared about her way too much to lose her.
"I'm not—" Shit. How was he supposed to explain what was going through his mind? "I'm not trying to pretend it didn't happen, that's—that's not it."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know." He shrugged, feeling a sour taste in his mouth. "I guess… I guess I just didn't think she was expecting something different from me, that's all."
The pause that followed his answer was filled with tension. Harry kept fidgeting with the bottle in his hand, taking deep breaths to clear out his mind. Or perhaps to relieve the memories of that day. Trying to understand why it should've been so obvious to him that Maisy expected more out of them when she didn't say anything about it. Why should've been so obvious to him, when she didn't act any differently the next morning? Why should've been so obvious to him, when she'd barely texted him back the next day? And why should've been so obvious to him if, when he'd invited her to go out for a drink, she'd been the one to suggest that Niall tagged along?
"Anyway…" Niall said, then put more fries inside his mouth and chewed. After a second, he swallowed, then added, "Everything would've probably been just fine if you hadn't freaked out on her. That was really stupid."
"Right." Harry raised an eyebrow, eying his friend from across the table. "Can you blame me, though? You shoved me over those tables and tried to punch me, mate! Out of nowhere. Did you really need to be so fucking dramatic?"
Niall shifted on his seat, chuckling under his breath as he scratched his neck. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that… I told ya, I was really pissed off."
Harry's lips curved into a smile. He shook his head, lifting his beer and finishing the liquid inside while Niall ate more fries.
The tension between them had faded off, so although their conversation died for a couple minutes, things didn't feel awkward anymore. Still, there were a million things rushing through Harry's mind. Because, truly, what the hell was he supposed to do now? He didn't want to lose Maisy. He really didn't. But she wasn't texting him back, nor answering any of his calls, and he didn't want to be invasive and just show up at her door. He wanted to fix things, not make them worse.
So, playing with the odds, Harry decided to break off the silence and rip off the band-aid that was covering his deepest dilemma.
"What do I do now?"
Niall gulped the fries down, then drummed his fingers on the table and shrugged. "Do you have feelings for her?"
Harry looked away. Did he? Didn't he? How was he supposed to know that? It was a very simple and obvious question, and whereas it didn't surprise him, he wasn't actually expecting to answer it. He didn't know how to, to be honest.
"Can't help you if you don't know what you want, mate," Niall said. "You already know she has feelings for you, so I don't know what you expect me to say… 'Cause either you have feelings for her and go for it, or you don't and you let her go. But there's no way you can pretend nothing happened."
"No, I know that."
"Good. So figure out what you're feeling, and do something about it."
Three weeks later, Maisy saw him again.
Lucie had offered to leave him out of her birthday celebrations, but to be honest Maisy didn't think it was fair to shut him off from his entire group of friends. Even if the only reason why he knew them was because she and Niall had introduced him in the first place.
So there she was, at a gorgeous rooftop club, on a Saturday night, wearing a black top and white pants that she secretly hoped would blow Harry's mind. Showing off as much cleavage as she could, and pairing the high-waist with heels to highlight her curves around her hips. Mingling with the girls, and avoiding Max's hints for a second date. Laughing and chatting with a drink in her hand, while peering at the door and waiting for him to arrive.
It was kind of agonizing, to be honest. And if she didn't know he was giving Niall a ride to the party, she would've already given up by then.
But then she finished her second drink, went to the restroom, and as she made it back to the table, she finally saw them. Harry and Niall. Walking up the stairs that led to the terrace. Half an hour late, and the last ones to arrive.
Knowing it would take them a minute or two to reach the group, Maisy took a step to the side and hid behind Callie, placing a hand on her lower back and encouraging her not to move.
"What's up?" Callie asked, turning her head to the side.
Peering over her friend's shoulder, Maisy shook her head and whispered, "Nothing. He's here."
"Hmmm…" Callie nodded, then took a sip of her drink. "So what? You are moving on, remember? Going out on dates with Max and all that?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Maisy rolled her eyes, giving a dismissive wave of her hand. "I just wanna look at him for one second, then I'll move on… I mean, just look at him, Callie… He's hot!"
Callie chuckled and shook her head, and although Maisy couldn't see her, she could imagine her rolling her eyes at those words. Not because she didn't think Harry was handsome, but because she'd already made up her mind about not supporting her feelings for him anymore. Not after seeing how much he'd hurt her. Still, she didn't say anything else, going back to whatever conversation she was having before and letting Maisy enjoy the view.
So that's exactly what she did.
Harry walked with his head low, following Niall's lead and mumbling "excuse me" and "sorry" every time he had to squeeze between bodies. He was wearing her favorite shirt, a custom made checked one he'd gotten last Christmas from his stylist sister, and Maisy bit her lip. He'd left it unbuttoned and layered it over a white t-shirt, its neckline so low that she could see the two swallows facing each other on his chest, as long as his usual gold cross necklace. His curls were shorter and all messed up in his head, and if she didn't know him better, she would've thought he hadn't even remembered to comb his hair after showering. But that wasn't the case, and she was sure it was exactly the look he was going for — it had always killed her how good he looked like that.
"Niall, Harry, over here!" Diana raised her arm and waved her hand, bursting Maisy's tiny bubble.
Moving from behind Callie, Maisy walked to the opposite side of the table and took a seat next to Josh. She smiled at him and Eileen, who had her fingers intertwined with his, and pretended not to see Niall stand right next to Lucie and raise his arms up in the air, or how cheers were thrown around them when they started greeting everyone.
"You ok?" Eileen asked, leaning forward to look at her.
"Of course." Maisy smiled, and nodded.
Was she, though?
Their voices were mixed up with music, laughter and glasses clinking together, but even so she heard Harry's words loud and clear, wishing their mutual friend a happy birthday and thanking her for inviting him. It's been a long time, you definitely look older, he joked, and Maisy had to really force herself to hold back a smile—and maybe even some tears.
It hurt to see him like that—so comfortable, so cute, so friendly, and so hot—knowing she wouldn't be able to touch him like she wished to. Above and beyond, it hurt not being able to sit next to him and just chat, make him laugh, and stare into his green eyes while listening to his deep and slow voice.
She didn't know how to act in front of him anymore, which really bothered her.
Before their fight, or whatever that had been, being friends with Harry had never been difficult, and her feelings for him had never felt like a problem, so being incapable of at least saying 'hello' to him made her feel immature and stupid. There was a weight on her shoulders pressuring her to quickly find a way to handle the situation, and a voice shouting at her that she was a 28 years-old woman who by now had to know how to remain friends and move on.
Honestly, though, why did she let this happen? Why did she kiss him? Why did she tell Niall about the kiss? Why did she have to go and ruin everything?
"You think you'll talk tonight?"
Maisy shrugged. She didn't have to ask Eileen what she meant by that. All of her friends knew about what had happened that Friday night, and they'd all shown different reactions to it. In this case, Eileen was still very supportive of her feelings for Harry, and a firm believer that their friendship was too important and deep to let it die so easily after one mistake.
"I don't think so," she said, focusing on her friend's eyes to avoid the fact that, had it been a month before, she would've already been wrapped around his arms. "What's there to talk, anyway?"
"What if he wants to apologize?"
"Who wants to apologize?" Josh asked, sitting in between the two girls.
"No one—"
"Harry."
"Eileen!"
"Oops!" Eileen covered her mouth with one hand and widened her eyes. "Sorry! Sorry! He won't tell anyone. I promise."
Josh frowned. "Couldn't even if I tried."
Maisy sighed. "It's fine. I just—"
"Hey guys…" Harry's deep voice interrupted their conversation, and they all shut their mouths.
Maisy held her breath and turned her head, tilting her chin up to look at his face. Harry stood right across from her with a soft smile on his face, hunching over the short table to give Eileen a kiss on the cheek and Josh a handshake. Her pulse raced, and her stomach fluttered. Oh God. She couldn't do that. She just… She couldn't.
She really couldn't.
It was too much.
So when he seemed to finally turn his head towards her, her eyes just darted to the other side, and she was up from her seat.
"Niall!" she shouted, her mouth curving into a wide smile as she raised her arm and waved to get her best friend's attention. "Hii!"
And before she knew it, she was off the table and away from him.
— — — — —
The music was louder than before, everyone seemed too drunk and sweaty, and it was definitely time for her to leave. But Maisy was having fun for the first time in three weeks, and she didn't want that feeling to end. She had cried too much, for too many days, and a night of laughter and dancing with her friends was all she needed to step out of that sadness.
Or, well, that's what she'd thought, at least.
Because, see? Maisy was having fun. Until, out of nowhere, her friends decided to start discussing her (nonexistent) lovelife. All over again.
"Horannnnn! C'mere!"
Callie waved, and Maisy dropped her head back.
"Nooooo!" she cried. "Stop!"
"Ladies," Niall said with a huge grin on his face, standing between Callie and Maisy and throwing one arm around each one. "What's the shouting all about?"
"Well…" Eileen said, wiggling her eyebrows and hiding a smirk behind the rim of her drink. "We want to know what's up with Harry."
"What? Why? What did he do now?" Niall dropped Callie and turned towards Maisy, placing both hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Tell me and I'll kick his ass."
"Nothing!"
She really wanted them to stop. How was she supposed to stop thinking about Harry, if people kept constantly bringing him up?
"Mhm, nothing." Callie said. "He's just been fucking ogling her the entire night, that's all."
"Ohhh, that," Niall chuckled, throwing his arm around Maisy's shoulders one more time and then pulling her closer for half-a-hug. "Yeah, I know."
Lucie and Eileen squeaked, the first one quickly demanding an explanation, "What do you mean, yeah, I know?"
Maisy looked away.
Niall frowned. "Just… Yeah, I know he's been watching her?"
"Okay, but why is he watching her?"
He shrugged. "I guess he's just so used to it that he doesn't even notice, I don't know. You both should talk, though," —he tapped Maisy's shoulder— "he's honestly been miserable at work."
"And who's fault is that? Huh?" Callie straightened her back, crossing her arms on her chest. "Besides, he's too late, we're rooting for Max now."
"Uh, excuse me?" Eileen scoffed. "Honey, there's no way I'm rooting for Max. I'm totally team Harry."
"Yeah, I don't know," Lucie said. "I mean, I always felt like Maisy and Harry were end game, y'know?"
"Girls—"
"But he was such a dick to her!"
"Once, Callie. It was one questionable moment in five years, ok?"
"Yeahh! He's such a sweetheart. I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt."
"Ladies, hey—"
"Well, I don't. Max stepped up in one week and did something Harry couldn't in five years. That's the kind of man I want for my friend."
"Just let them," Maisy whispered, watching the way her three best friends argued about something that had nothing to do with them. And the exact topic she'd been trying to avoid the entire night. She loved them, she knew they meant well, and she knew they were all drunk, but they were definitely ruining the end of her night. She didn't want to talk about Max, and she didn't want to think about Harry. She just wanted to have fun. Why couldn't her friends let her have fun?
"Are you ok?" Niall asked, directly in Maisy's ear, then squeezed her shoulder.
"Mhm." She scoffed, and tilted her chin towards her friends. "I'm pretty sure if I walk out of here right now, they won't even notice."
"Wanna sit and chat for a bit?"
"Nahh…" She shook her head, then looked around, checking out the different groups of people surrounding them. There was a beat of silence between them, loudly filled by the music, and then she added, "I know he's been watching me."
Niall snorted. "Don't we all? Guy doesn't know how to be subtle."
Maisy's lips curled into a smile, and she looked down at her feet. "It doesn't matter, tho. He told me we're just friends, so… I don't know… I don't want to look too much into it."
"Right. Well…" Niall sighed. By then, he'd already chatted with Harry for weeks, till the point where it felt there was nothing left to talk about. So he knew his friend had fucked up things, but he also knew how deeply he regretted it. If things had happened in a different setting, under different circumstances, Harry's reaction would've been also different. Which is why he'd been feeling so guilty—he'd been the one to throw Harry off, when he knew both of them had more than a few beers in their system. And although he couldn't go back in time and change Harry's actions and words, he could try to make them talk again.
"Y'know," he started, and then took a pause to think about his next words. "When we talked at work, he told me that your kiss was just a kiss. So I asked if he had ever kissed Callie, or Lucie, or Eileen, right? And, like, he just went in shock, as if what I was saying was fucking absurd."
Maisy frowned. "I'm not following, Ni. I'm not drunk, but I'm definitely not sober enough to psychoanalyze stuff."
Niall chuckled, shaking his head and squeezing her shoulder. "My bad. What I mean is, he didn't think kissing you was absurd, but he thought kissing the other girls was, y'know? I guess he thought that it was so normal that it didn't mean anything."
"That doesn't make sense," Maisy laughed bitterly, shaking her head and taking a step back to look into Niall's eyes as she left her unfiltered thoughts out of her mind. "I don't want my kiss to feel normal, Ni, c'mon. If he didn't feel anything, if he didn't think about doing it again or, I don't know… If it didn't cross his mind even once, then why will I think he wants me? I hate that we're supposed to believe men feel something for us even when they don't say it, you know? Or that we're supposed to believe they love us when they say they hate us. If he can flirt with other girls and let them know he wants them, then why can't he do the same for me? I just—I can't be with someone who won't let me know they want me, okay? I can't. And I won't."
"You're right, yeah, sorry." Niall lowered his head and nodded, knowing she had a point. Maisy shouldn't wait around just because Harry wasn't ready to deal with his feelings, she had already talked to him about that and explained her point of view, and he understood where she was coming from. It wasn't Maisy who had to step up and do something about her feelings. Not anymore. Now Harry was the one who had to let her know how he felt. "'M sorry, Isy."
Maisy sighed, grabbed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "I know. You're fine. Thanks for always listening."
"Anytime, love." He pulled her by the neck and kissed the side of her head, then let her go. "Look at that, now they walked away and we didn't even notice."
She looked around and chuckled, noticing her friends weren't near them anymore. She glanced back to their tables, then, where she found them dancing with the boys. Josh was there. Max was there. Franklin, Nick and Kevin were there. Ryan was there. And even Tommy had shown up again—attached to a girl Maisy had never seen before. Of course, since he stood next to her, Niall was missing. But besides him, the only one who wasn't around the table was… Harry.
And to be honest the thought shouldn't have crossed her mind. It shouldn't. And even when it already had, she shouldn't have looked around for him, because deep down she already knew where she would find him and what she would see, and she didn't want to go through that again.
It had been such a fun night, she'd felt so good again.
She didn't want to look for him.
And yet…
She did.
She let her eyes wander and stop right where he was, at the bar, wearing her favorite shirt.
Again, she should've looked away, but she didn't, because she wanted to know who he was talking to, who was standing in front of him while she only could see his back.
And if she had listened to all of those warnings voiced in her head, if she hadn't waited for him to move a little bit, and if she hadn't waited for the person in front of him to tilt their head to the side, she wouldn't have felt the air getting knocked out of her. Because she wouldn't have seen him there, talking again with that amazing girl from three weeks ago — the girl he was talking to when her own feelings ruined everything for him, and for them.
"C'mon… C'mon…" Maisy mumbled to herself. Her body shivered while she stared at her phone, watching as the Uber app tried to find her a driver, and she crossed one arm over her stomach.
She knew she should've worn a blazer instead of prioritizing not clashing her outfit. Or at least she should've been still inside, where it was warm and she could sit down — although that wasn't really an option, because it would've ruined her plans of sneaking out without Callie noticing.
She tapped her foot against the floor, glaring at her phone. It wasn't supposed to be taking this long, it wasn't supposed to be so hard to find a ride home.
Maybe she should just walk. She wasn't that far away from home…
No. Of course she shouldn't just walk. She wasn't stupid to walk by herself on a Saturday night, dressed like that, after having a few drinks.
Her phone buzzed, the app finally notifying she had a new driver. Leaning against the wall, Maisy sighed. Adam was only thirteen minutes away. Not as fast as she would've liked, but still better than nothing.
Taking in her surroundings, she blocked her phone and kept it tight between her fingers, then placed her arm on top of the other one. Hugging herself. Protecting herself from the coldness. And maybe even from the sadness.
The street was almost empty, only a couple of people standing on the sidewalk just like her, probably waiting to go home. And except for two or three cars rushing by here and there, there were no signs of anyone else driving around the city.
She looked down, and unlocked her phone.
Adam was currently twenty minutes away.
"You've got to be bloody kidding me," she muttered.
"Aha! There you are!"
Maisy moved her eyes up and to the side.
Niall beamed at her, one arm stretched out to keep the front door open.
"Max was just asking about you."
He looked inside the bar for a moment, then back at her, taking a step closer and letting his hand fall to his side. As he walked, though, the door remained open, until Harry walked through it and let it close behind him.
Maisy's lungs froze, and her heart thumped inside her chest.
"Are you leaving?" Niall asked.
Harry's eyes darted to her, and Maisy's eyes darted to Niall.
"Uh, yeah…" She nodded, blocking her phone and holding it tightly into a fist while she squeezed her crossed arms around her body. "I'm just waiting for my Uber."
"Huh." Niall flinched his head back, slightly wrinkling his brows. "Well, just so you know, Max is under the impression he is taking you home…"
Maisy sighed, and rolled her eyes. Unlike Callie, who'd been thrilled about Maisy going out with her boyfriend's best friend, and who thought Harry didn't deserve another single second of her time, Niall knew how guilty and conflicted she'd been feeling about going out with one friend just to get over another one. Even if it had been for only one date, and even if she wasn't planning on doing it again. And even if one friend was nothing like the other.
Because, yes, her friendship with Max was nothing compared to her friendship with Harry, but Maisy supposed Max would be what she considered just a friend to be, and she didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings like hers had been hurt.
Although, of course, Max didn't have actual feelings for her, he just fancied her — he fancied her a lot. So badly that he'd spent months waiting for the moment to ask her out. Something Harry had never, ever, cared to do.
Ugh.
"I know," she said, diverting her sight across the street before she gave in to the urge of looking at Harry. "I'm trying to leave before he finds me."
Niall chuckled, and Maisy bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile. It was shitty of her, she knew that, but at that moment she was too tired to care. She planned to text both him and Callie as soon as she got home. And she could've (and would've) done that by then already if the damn driver weren't taking so damn long.
"So," Niall said, "you're not going home with Max?"
Maisy shook her head.
"'Cause you don't want to go with him. Right?"
Pulling her eyebrows together, Maisy glanced at him. Was it really necessary for him to word it out like that? She was ready to call him out for asking such a question, when she caught him looking away from her. And then, out of instinct, she followed his line of vision. And before she could even notice and stop herself, she was looking at Harry as well.
Maisy's world stopped turning. All over again.
Different from them, Harry focused on the front door, moving his jaw and parting his lips as he chewed gum. Silent. Distracted. Hands hidden inside his pockets, shoulders slightly up. Unkempt curls pulled back on the top of his head, clearly getting stuck there after he'd ran his hand through them.
Maisy's belly fluttered. Everything about him was pretty, no wonder why he walked around so confident all the time. As if he owned the space.
She'd always found herself physically attracted to him, but since kissing him it seemed as if she couldn't hold herself anymore. And the fact that she knew so much about him only made it worse. Because there he was, wearing a shirt she loved so much that she'd borrowed it from him multiple times. And a shirt that, if things hadn't changed so much, and if their friendship hadn't been ruined by her stupid feelings, she knew she would've been wearing it right then and there—and then she wouldn't have been feeling so cold.
Damn.
What was he thinking? What was he looking at? Was he paying any attention to their conversation? Was he waiting for someone? Oh God. Was he waiting for… For that girl? Was she going to be forced to watch them leave together? Go home together? Oh no.
No, no, no.
Please, no.
Where the hell was Adam?
Maisy glanced at her phone just as it buzzed in her hand. She read the notification, dropping her shoulders and closing her eyes.
"C'mon," she murmured, taking her free hand up to her face and pinching her forehead. "Fuck."
She was so tired. All the fun she'd had with her friends came to an end the moment she saw Harry and that girl talking, and she didn't deserve to have to stand there and watch even more of that. Or to have to hide from her friends. Or to have to stand by herself on a cold night in the middle of the street. All she wanted was to go home, hide under the blankets, and cry.
"Isy, hey," Niall called, his voice much softer and closer than before. He stood next to her with worry in his eyes, grabbing her shoulder and letting go of whatever he was saying before. "What's wrong?"
Maisy shook her head, taking her hand away from her face and wiping a tear from under her eye. No more crying Maisy. No more crying.
"Nothing… Just…" She blinked, then stared at her phone. "My uber. He canceled."
"Ok…" Niall tilted his head, trying to get her attention. Or maybe trying to get a look at her face. Or maybe trying to read her emotions. Or maybe just trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Can't you just get another one?"
"Well," she muttered, peering at him through the corner of her eyes whilst sliding her thumb across the screen. "I'm not stupid, am I?"
Niall frowned. "No, I—"
"What do you think I've been trying to do for the past twenty minutes?"
"Sorry, I—"
"I can give you a ride," Harry said.
Both Maisy and Niall jolted, then turned their heads to look at him. Although he kept his distance, Harry had gotten noticeably closer as well, standing only a few inches behind his friend. Niall seemed to notice that, too, taking a step aside and dropping Maisy's shoulder as he turned to give him some space.
And then, as Harry fixed his forest-green eyes into hers, and as Maisy kept her head turned to the side and stared back at him, the entire world seemed to — once again — stop around her. There was nothing but empty and silent distance standing between them, and every nerve in her body seemed to tingle. Desperate to run towards him. Desperate to say yes and let him not only take her home but also make her a cup of tea before going to bed. Desperate to let him wrap his arms around her and fall asleep breathing into her neck as if that was something just friends normally did.
She squeezed her phone between her fingers, tightly, and made sure to hold as much air as possible in her lungs. Because she truly missed him. She missed being his friend, she missed talking to him, she missed answering his calls. She missed making him laugh, and she missed feeling silly next to him. She missed being able to be near him whenever she wanted to, and she missed hugging him just because she could.
But she also really wanted him. And although she had always wanted him, now it was definitely worse. Almost unbearable. Because now, as she looked at his pinkish and soft lips, she also missed feeling them against the curve of her neck. And as she admired his growing facial hair, she also missed feeling the scratchiness under the palm of her hands as she cradled his cheeks and kissed the hell out of him. And as her body quivered under the intensity of his green gaze, she missed the tingling between her legs caused by the strong grip of his manly hands.
Maisy hadn't been able to taste all of him, but she'd tasted enough to be scarred for the rest of her life. And it hurt to know he didn't want her back. It really did.
"Shit," Niall cursed, then coughed.
Maisy blinked, finally breaking away from the spell Harry had put her under and facing forward, where her friend was supposed to be. When she didn't find him, though, she straightened up and stepped away from the wall, scanning around the street.
"Where—"
"I forgot my jacket!" Niall shouted.
Following his voice, she got a glimpse of him behind Harry, by the front door, already taking a step into the club.
"Be right back guys!"
And just like that the door closed, and there was nobody else around.
Nobody but her.
And him.
Nobody but them.
Emptiness dropped in the pit of her stomach, and her chest tightened.
Shit.
She took a deep breath in, folding her arms and rubbing her forearm with her free hand. She didn't know where to look. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say. Her heart was racing, and she could feel her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Was she supposed to just stand there?!
Peeking at him, she could only see his back. Harry stood ahead of her and to her side, facing the door where Niall had just walked through. Frozen. Hands still inside his pockets, but shoulders more relaxed than before.
Second went by as silence completely engulfed them. But then he chuckled, looking down and shaking his head while his shoulders moved up and down.
The sound hit Maisy's brain first, and then it bounced to her chest, suddenly reminding her to breathe again. Her lips curved up, and she licked them before swallowing her feelings down her throat. That was not the time, nor place, to find joy in the sound of his laughter.
Harry turned around, still laughing.
"What?" she asked — although she wasn't expecting to.
"It's just…" He covered his face with one hand, then slid it up his forehead and ran his fingers through his curls. Calming himself down. "Niall."
"Oh…" She furrowed her brows. "Okay?"
"I mean," he added, dropping his hand back down and looking at her. Beaming. Glowing. "He's so fucking stupid. I just remembered he didn't even bring a jacket."
Maisy widened her eyes, then she nodded. "Ohhh…"
Although she didn't want to, she couldn't help but laugh, too. Maybe not out of happiness, but because Niall could be really silly when he wanted to be. And maybe because it was nice that Harry had felt comfortable enough to share that with her. Maybe because finally, after weeks, they were finally sharing a nice moment together.
Although, of course, that didn't erase the fact that things weren't okay between them.
She faced forward, across the street and away from him, shaking her head while her entire body shivered.
"How subtle," she added, placing her folded arms over her stomach and smashing her phone into her side. She still hadn't tried to find another driver, and although she knew she should've, she didn't want to take the risk of having to walk away from him. Not so soon. Not right then.
"Right?"
The smile was obvious in his voice, and Maisy was just so hyper-aware of his every moment. Of every detail. Absorbing way more than she'd ever absorbed before. Feeling him way more than she'd ever felt him before.
And Harry didn't make it easy, because he didn't stop moving. He shuffled on his feet, stepping closer while shoving both hands back into his pockets. He breathed in, then heavily breathed out, taking his time to walk until he was in front of her and she didn't have a choice but to look at him.
He buried his hypnotizing eyes into hers, and Maisy curled her toes inside her boots — desperate to stay grounded and hold her balance.
Harry didn't look happy, he didn't look mad, and he didn't look sad.
He looked honest, he looked available, and he looked familiar.
He looked like her best friend.
And it hurt, because there was nothing Maisy wanted more than to go back to what they were before, but as they both stood like that for a moment — silently watching each other, and silently waiting for each other — she realized that it was something she would never get to have again.
How could she? If she wasn't able to be around him without hiding her feelings anymore? If she wouldn't be able to see him dating someone — falling in love with someone — without feeling betrayed and heartbroken? Maybe she'd misinterpreted his actions before, but now that she knew he didn't feel the same way, it wouldn't be fair to hold it against him. She needed to grow out of her feelings, and in order to do so things needed to change. She wouldn't be able to keep interacting with him like she did before.
"I meant it, you know?" he said, pulling her out of her mind. "About giving you a ride home."
Maisy blinked.
"Thank you," she murmured, shuffling on her feet and shrugging. "I'm just… I don't know if that's a good idea."
Harry nodded. He looked down and between their feet, then back into her eyes.
"Just so you know," he said, leaving all traces of playfulness behind, "I'm not leaving with her."
Maisy pulled her eyebrows together, and it took her another pause until she could open her mouth and ask, "W—what?"
"I know you saw me talking to that girl, the one from that night," he explained, taking a short step towards her, "but nothing happened between me and her. And nothing was going to. I swear."
Maisy blinked.
"Oh, okay."
There was a pause.
A pause in which, against her better judgment, she didn't avoid the intensity of his eyes. And a pause in which, as seconds went by, she was easily consumed by the calmness, the confidence, and the assurance he exuded.
Still, it was hard to figure out what was happening, or where he was trying to get to. She tried to read his expression, tried to understand his emotions, tried to get a sense of his thoughts. But she couldn't. So she asked, "Why?"
Harry slid his tongue between his lips, then tilted his head. "Why?"
"Yeah…" Maisy shrugged. "I mean, you were really into her, so… Why?"
He curled his mouth into a timid smile, breathing out his answer as if he couldn't believe he had to say that out loud, "Isy… I was an asshole and hurt your feelings because I wasn't aware of things, but I would never do that knowing—"
"Oh my—"
"—what I know now and—"
"Stop." She raised her hand, the one still gripping that stupid phone, and Harry closed his mouth. "You don't—" She took a deep breath, putting her thoughts in order. "You don't need to stop yourself just because I have feelings for you."
"No, I know. I—"
"Harry, look," she said, putting her hand down and taking a step back from him. "I never meant for you not to go out with her, ok? Or anyone else, for that matter… I can't stop you from fancying people... So if you want to be with her, I mean, you don't need to stop yourself just… Just because you feel sorry for me, okay?"
He closed his eyes and let out a harsh breath, then dropped his head back and looked at the sky for a moment. He didn't have to say anything for her to know that he was thinking about her words, and that he was taking them in before saying something back to her.
Maybe that's why Maisy didn't rush him. And why she distracted herself by watching the way his throat flexed when he swallowed, and the way he softly moved his jaw as he chewed his gum. His facial hair was always kind of longer on his neck, and also kind of messier — something she tended to forget, because it wasn't really noticeable unless he threw his head back. Just like then.
"I know that," he said, once again pulling her out of her mind. "Sorry."
She blinked, watching with blurry eyes as he rolled his shoulders and fixed his eyes back on hers.
"That came out wrong and it wasn't actually answering your question. I didn't walk away from her because I felt sorry for you. I walked away from her because I didn't want to stay there, because I wasn't—I mean, because I'm not interested."
"Oh…" Maisy barely whispered, his words echoing inside her. Then what… What was he doing? What was she supposed to do with that information? What difference did it make? She breathed out through her nose and licked her lips, squishing her eyebrows together and flinching her head back slightly. "Then why… Why are you telling me this?"
"I don't know. I guess…" he said into her eyes, pausing to close his mouth and chew his gum as he took a tiny step closer to her. "I guess I just want to make sure you don't leave tonight thinking something happened between me and her. Because it didn't, and it won't. Not her, not anyone else."
Speechless and breathless, Maisy remained lost inside his eyes. It was hard to make sense of what he was saying, and it was even harder to understand if he meant something else between the lines. Was he making sure she wouldn't cry when she got home? Was he simply protecting a friend? Or was he hoping for something more?
She shook her head and took a step back. See? She couldn't do that. She couldn't be his friend when she would be constantly hoping for something more to be in between the lines. That wasn't healthy. And it wasn't fair. "I— I can't… I—"
"Wait, no!" He took a step forward and raised one arm, then immediately dropped it back to his side. Closing his hand into a fist and opening it up again, he softened the tone of his voice and pleaded, "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know what to do or… Or what to say to make things right. I don't want to overstep, but I also don't want you to think I don't care about losing you, because I do. I care so much, Isy… And it's been killing me."
"I hate this," she said, dropping her chin down and hiding her face behind her hands. Everything hurt — her stomach hurt, her chest hurt, her head hurt. "I didn't… I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want this to happen."
And then, she cried.
"It wasn't… It wasn't supposed to be like this."
"Gimme that," he murmured, closing off the distance and taking her phone away from her hand—and from her face. Maisy sobbed, and tears fell down, but she also chuckled, because even amidst everything, Harry was still the same friend who would point out how it wasn't his fault that her bags were too small to carry her things, and yet would always end up keeping whatever she needed safe into his pockets anyway.
"I know, ok? I know," he added, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her to fully cry into his chest. "And I'm sorry, ok?" He placed his cheek on the side of her head, speaking into her ear. "I really am. I'm the one who messed everything up and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for making you cry. And I'm sorry for all the times I made you feel less important than you actually are."
Warmth filled up her body, and she sobbed again, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter while pressing her forehead against her hands, and her hands against his chest.
"There are so many things I should've done differently when it comes to us… I know that. And I'm sorry, ok? I am. I don't want to lose you, Isy. I really want to fix this. Please let me try to fix it."
Maisy breathed out through her nose and nodded, letting her hands fall from her face and throwing her arms around his waist.
"Jesus fucking Christ thanks God," Harry instantly breathed out, smashing her even tighter into him and pushing them both towards the wall.
She blinked her eyes open and chuckled, letting more tears fall down and sniffing while turning her head to the side and pressing her ear against his chest. They both shuffled and stumbled, trying to keep up with their clumsy tiny steps until her back hit the wall. Harry stopped and sighed, and Maisy felt every bit of the relief rushing through him — the way he heavily moved his chest up and down, the way he shivered, the way he squeezed her. It was contagious, and it had her sighing as well. Loosening up all the tension. Melting into him.
"I missed you," he whispered, taking one hand to her head and threading his fingers through her hair.
He stroked her scalp — just like she loved — and Maisy bit her lip, closing her eyes while getting drunk on his cologne. That was exactly where she wanted to be. How she wanted to be. With his heart thumping loudly into her ear, his warmth enveloping her body, his masculine and strong scent filling her lungs.
Sniffing again, she took one hand up to her face and wiped under her nose, exhaling a groan through her mouth. "Ugh… I'm a mess."
"I don't care."
Maisy rolled her eyes, rubbing her cheeks as best as she could while still caged inside his arms. "But I do."
"Shhhh…" He swagged them gently, then grabbed her wrist and took it back around his waist. "Got a lot of fixing to do, I know. But I missed this, so let me enjoy it."
She sighed, holding her own forearms as she rested her arms on his lower back. No matter how hard she tried to be mad at him, she didn't feel like she actually could. Harry had overreacted and hurt her feelings, sure, but it had been the first and only slip in a friendship that had already lasted five years. He was a great guy, and she knew that — of course Maisy knew that. And maybe that is why the words ended up rolling out of her mouth so naturally when she said, "I missed this, too."
"Yeah?" He scratched the back of her head with his short nails, then kissed her hair. "Do you think…" — another kiss, and another one— "Do you think you'll be able to forgive me?"
Hadn't she already?
"I don't…" She cleared her throat, getting rid of the scratchiness from her previous crying. Staring ahead to the empty street, she nuzzled against his chest, then started again. "I don't think it's about forgiveness… I think… I think I just need time."
"Right," Harry murmured, and a moment of silence lingered between them. "Time for what, exactly?"
"It's just… You already know how I feel about you, and I don't think I can be your friend right now."
"Why not?"
"Harry." She rolled her eyes and pulled away, tilting her chin up to look at him while he followed her lead and angled his head down to look at her. He was close — really close — and she had to withdraw her arms from his back to be able to create some more distance between them.
Harry moved, too, letting her go and taking half a step back.
And Maisy hated it.
She wanted to be glued to him all over again.
"Don't make this even harder than it needs to be," she added.
"I'm sorry, I'm not… I'm not trying to make this harder. I just want to understand, that's all."
"Is it really that hard to understand that I can't be your friend when I have feelings for you?"
Harry frowned. "To be honest, yes. Why can't we be friends?"
"Oh my God," she laughed, but mostly because she couldn't believe how dense he was. If what he needed was for her to spell it out to him, then she would, but only because she couldn't handle all the weirdness and the running around circles anymore. "Harry, you're not just a friend to me, ok? And when I say that I have feelings for you, that means that I want you, ok? I want you so much Harry, and I can't stop thinking about it. It's like… It's like I can't pretend that I don't anymore because that's all I think about. All the time. Every time I look at you I can't stop thinking about how much I want to be with you, and every time I see you with a girl I can't stop thinking about how much I wish that was me. And maybe it was fine before, but we kissed and now… Now I just… I just can't, ok? That's why I need some time. Because I can't pretend anymore and I can't—"
"Then don't." He stepped closer again, instantly placing his palms on her cheeks and cradling her face.
Staring into her eyes, Harry was so filled with emotions and so determined to hold her close that her body quivered. And her belly fluttered. And her heart sped up.
Maisy blinked. "What?"
"Don't pretend you don't." he said, not even once faltering his gaze away from hers. "Let me know how much you want me. I wanna know, ok? I want to know how I make you feel. And I want to keep making you feel this way for me. Or more, or better, I don't know. I just… I want all of this with you. I want you, ok?"
With widened eyes, Maisy breathed in and out through her nose. Quickly. Shortly. Desperately. Making her chest go up and down erratically.
"I…"
No more words came out of her brain, and Maisy froze like that. Blinking at him with parted lips and out of breath.
Harry's eyes flicked to her mouth, then traveled back to her eyes. With featherly touches, he brushed his thumbs up and down her cheeks, then bowed closer.
"So don't stay away," he murmured, glancing at her lips once more before closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together. "Don't take some time. And don't stop thinking about me. Yeah? I didn't react properly the first time, but I love the fact that you have feelings for me. Don't get rid of them, please."
She grabbed his wrists, keeping his touch in place while closing her eyes, too. "Please don't… Don't say those things if you don't mean them."
He shook his head, and his nose nudged hers.
"You know I wouldn't," he said, breathing warmly into her face. "I would never—I want you, Isy. I want you and I want you way more than just a friend."
And just like that first time, back at her place, Maisy knew it was about to happen. It was written all over him, and it burned inside her. It made her tremble—out of excitement, out of nervousness, out of fear, and out of anticipation.
So she squeezed his wrists, and fluttered her eyes open.
"Let's…" She swallowed, aware of the closeness between them. "Let's get out of here."
Still leaning into her forehead with his eyes open, Harry nodded. He took another moment to breathe in deeply, then opened his eyes, too.
"Ok," he said, drawing sweet circles around her cheekbones before dropping his hands off her face. He met her palms in the process, though, and they automatically held each other, intertwining their fingers together while stepping away from the wall. "C'mon, then."
"Niall's going home with Eileen and Josh," Harry said, putting his phone back into his pocket. He threw his arm over Maisy's shoulder and looked side to side, then pulled her closer and guided her to cross the street along with him. "So we're good to go."
Maisy bit her lip and nodded, placing one arm around his waist while holding his hand on her shoulder with the other one.
Harry had told her he'd parked around the corner and further down the street, and although he'd already driven Maisy home many-multiple-hundred-thousands of times, and for many-multiple-hundred-thousands reasons, it was safe to say she'd never felt that much anticipation about being alone inside his car with him.
"By the way," he said, leaning to kiss the top of her head and speaking into her hair, "remind me to get him a bottle of something, yeah? Feel like I owe him big time."
She smiled, turning her head to nuzzle into their touching shoulders as Harry took his free hand to the back of her head and stroked her gently. He chuckled and kissed her hair one more time, then faced forward when she did, and dropped his hand to meet her one on his waist. After that, he didn't say anything, neither pressured her to say something back to him, walking in silence as they both hurried to reach their destination.
It was weird, the apparent sudden need they had to be close to each other. To touch each other. Hands grabbing hands, arms giving hugs, sides touching sides. As if they needed reassurance of each other's presence. Or as if they wanted to make sure they wouldn't vanish.
It'd started as soon as they'd walked away from the club, when they failed so badly at keeping any distance that they kept constantly stumbling into each other's feet. They eventually found a rhythm and a way to hold each other that suited both of them, but that need to stay close (close, close, close) didn't change as seconds—and then minutes—went by. It didn't change when Harry walked to a trash can to spit his gum, and even less when he took his shirt off and placed it over her cold shoulders. It also didn't change when Harry slowed down to get the keys from his pocket, nor when he opened the door of the passenger side for her to get inside.
"So…" he said, placing his hands on her hips and guiding her to stand between him and the opened door, "Where am I taking you now?"
She placed her hands on his chest, now covered only by his white t-shirt, and tilted her head to look up at him. Harry wanted her. He'd said so, and she didn't think he would ever lie to her—not about something like that, at least. And yet, her mind couldn't stop wondering. So instead of guessing the answer, she decided to openly ask him.
"Do you still mean the things you said?"
Harry nodded. "Every single word."
"About everything? I mean, do you really want me?"
Curling his mouth into a smile, he sneaked his hands under her shirt—his shirt—and slid his arms around her waist, resting them on her lower back and right above the curve of her bum.
"I really, really want you, Isy," he said, straight into her eyes.
"Why? What changed?"
"Nothing changed," he eagerly answered, and then he slowed down a bit. "I think… I just… I don't know."
He dipped his chin down and drew his sight off from her eyes, then shuffled slightly on his feet. "I think I just wasn't able to put two and two together by myself… That's all."
He shrugged, and Maisy bit the insides of her bottom lip.
In five years, she had never pictured a less confident side of him. Harry was the kind of guy that always managed to be proud of himself, and that always found a positive outcome in every situation. All the time. Even in his most embarrassing moments. So it was honestly weird to see him act like that.
At the same time, the prospect of having new things to learn about him felt really nice. And exciting. Something she wouldn't be able to do if she didn't lay all of her cards on the table. Right there and then.
"That day…" she said, pausing to lick her lips and breathe in. Gathering the strength to point out the thing that had hurt her the most. "Harry, that day you really made me feel like I was getting in your way of—"
"Ugh. I know—"
"—being with that girl and—"
"—I know. I'm sorry, 'm sorry."
He grunted and cursed, pulling her closer and hiding on the curve of her neck. And Maisy let him, closing her mouth and listening to whatever he had to say. Just like she had done that other night.
"I'm really sorry," he repeated. "I don't… I don't have any excuses for the way I reacted. I know that. I—Fuck." Pulling away to look into her eyes again, he took one hand off from her back and placed it on her cheek, tenderly but firmly holding her as he kept talking. "It caught me off guard and I… I fucked up, I know. But I would choose you over absolutely anyone and everyone, Isy. Anytime. No doubts."
His words hit deeply inside her, and a warm glow flowed all over her. A joyful glow. As if her body had burst with bright, sparkling, and multicolored bubbles.
So she bit her lip, and twisted the neckline of his t-shirt around her fingers.
It was hard to know what was the right thing to do. Rationally, her mind told her to not make it so easy for him. To give it some time, and see if he was actually telling the truth. If he actually meant it.
On the other hand, despite everything, her heart knew what it wanted. She believed his words, she believed he wouldn't intentionally hurt her, and she believed people deserved the benefit of the doubt. More than anything, she also wanted to believe that if she ever made a mistake, the people that she cared about would give her a second chance. So why couldn't she do the same?
"I know," she said, so softly she wasn't even sure he would be able to hear her. But then Harry brushed his thumb on her cheekbone, acknowledging her words, and she immediately kept going. "And I believe you're sorry. I do. I just… I think I'm scared, or… I don't know. I convinced myself you didn't want to be with me in that way, so… I don't know…" She shook her head. "I don't know."
He nodded, drawing gentle circles on her cheek. "Niall said… He said something about how you don't think I'm attracted to you, is that true?"
Maisy widened her eyes. "Oh my God! Niall told you that?"
"I mean—"
"What else did he say?!"
"Nothing! He just—"
"I'm gonna fucking kill him!"
Harry pursed his lips, and then laughed.
"It's not funny!"
She pinched the exposed skin on his chest, and Harry jolted.
"Ouch!" He looked back at her with both a frown and a smile on his face. "What was that for?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe for yelling at me for talking to Niall instead of talking to you? And then you talking to Niall instead of talking to me?"
"Right… Ok, yes. I can see you have a point there, but in my defense—"
"There's no defense!" She pinched him (again), and Harry jolted (again). He took the hand on her face to rub the new stinging inch of skin on his chest, smiling while she kept lashing out at him. "Can't believe you two, honestly! Dickheads! Gossiping like two little—"
"Ok," he said, taking his index finger to her mouth and pressing it into her lips. "Listen to me, woman."
Maisy narrowed her eyes at him, but she suddenly didn't have anything else to say, so she exhaled heavily through her nose and consented to his demand (albeit silently and annoyingly).
"Good." Staring into her eyes, he slid the pad of his finger side to side, slightly brushing it to her parted lips. "Niall was just calling me out for not letting you know how I feel, ok? That's all."
Harry glanced at her mouth, then switched his index finger with his thumb. The place he both touched and stared at seemed to buzz, and heat bloomed through her cheeks. From then on, no matter how much she tried to keep paying attention to his explanation, she simply couldn't put the information together anymore.
"Told me you didn't think I fancy you," he added, just as entranced with the movement of his thumb as she felt, "and that you couldn't read my mind, so if I wanted things to change…"
He put more pressure to his finger and pushed his way between her lips, bumping into her teeth. "I had to show you."
Intoxicated and absorbed, Maisy bit into his short nail, holding him there.
Harry smirked, and met her eyes once again. "Or something like that…"
It was hard to tell what was going through Maisy's mind, then. Mostly because she couldn't care less about her rational thoughts anymore. She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to know about Niall's suggestions—or whatever he said—and she didn't want to hear Harry's apologies anymore. All she wanted was to feel, so that's exactly what she did.
Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she leaned in, then slithered her teeth through his nail, stopping where the skin of his thumb began. His fingertip rested on the tip of her tongue, and her belly quivered and swirled in expectation of his reaction.
To her delight, Harry sank his shoulders and gawked at her. Some new, dazzling determination took over him, and even his eyes seemed to darken as he shifted his arm around her lower back and pulled her closer. Gripping at her side with one hand, he moved his other one and got deeper into her mouth, pressing his thumb in, in, in, until her teeth clamped around his first knuckle.
Maisy molded her lips around his shortest and chubbiest digit, keeping it locked between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She tasted him softly, running slow circles with her tongue while still watching him. Harry faintly smirked, so much that it was almost undetectable, and she took that as a challenge. Because she wanted more. She wanted more reactions, and she wanted more actions. So she placed both of her hands around his wrist and closed her eyes, then sucked his finger in.
Harry stiffened at first, and then he cursed, breathing out heavily through his mouth while taking a tiny step forward and spreading his other four fingers open on her face.
"Damn, Isy…" he murmured.
The admiration, pride, and approval in his voice cracked something inside her, and a very familiar feeling pulsed through her veins. It made her go all slippery and quivery. And it brought wet heat between her legs.
Bold and fearless, Maisy swirled her tongue and hummed. Making it dirtier than it needed to be. Making it louder. Making it wetter.
And he didn't seem to mind it. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it just as much and encouraged her to go even further, moving his thumb side to side while digging his other four fingers into the skin of her cheek and neck.
It was so good. So unexpected. And so desperate.
To put so much energy into something like sucking a finger. To feel herself going mindless as she tightened his wrist between her hands and brought him closer, then sucked him deeper. Breathing in and out through her nose, then completely forgetting about their surroundings and pushing her head down to fit his whole finger inside. And losing herself as she sucked. And sucked. All over again.
"Jesus Christ," Harry murmured, backing her into the back door of his car, tilting her head up and pulling his thumb off from her mouth. "That's enough."
Everything happened so fast, that before she could even process the information or blink her eyes open, Harry had already pressed his lips to hers in a desperate move.
They first met awkwardly and clumsily, hitting each other's cheeks and chins. But then Harry cradled her jaw and kept her in place, taking the lead and capturing her lips for a much hungrier and experienced kiss.
A soft tingle ran between her legs, and Maisy moaned softly, so softly she barely even noticed it. She dragged her hands up to his shoulders, then to his neck, and to the back of his head. Harry hummed, and she threaded her fingers between his curls and tugged, standing on her tiptoes and parting her lips to take things further. Searching for his tongue while he searched for hers. Tasting each other with the same devotion and effort she had just tasted his thumb. Moving in perfect sync, and making sure to taste every corner and every inch.
Harry dropped his hand from her face to her bum, giving it a rough and forceful squeeze and sucking all the air around them through his nose.
Maisy hummed, holding onto his hair tightly as she rolled her hips forward. Harry smirked into the kiss, then slid his other arm down, filling both of his hands with her ass. He squeezed her again, this time digging his nails into both of her cheeks and pulling her forward while he also stepped closer, and finally fully pressing their hips together.
His growing bulge nudged between her legs, and a gasped moan came out of her throat.
"Fuck," he breathed out, breaking the kiss to roll his hips on hers.
"Oh God…" she sighed, taking the opportunity to drag her wet lips to his jaw. That was so embarrassing. Maisy had to stop. She really had to stop. She needed to stop. They both needed to stop. And yet she couldn't. She didn't want to. Because Harry was getting hard while making out with her. She could feel him pressed against her hips and she didn't want to lose the feeling. She didn't want to step away. So she didn't. She moved her mouth thoughtlessly, instead, savoring as much as she could of him. Feeling his stubble under her tongue, and his scent under her nose.
"Fuck," he murmured, timidly rubbing himself up and down her front. "That's…" He swallowed. "Feels good, baby."
Maisy hummed, mapping kisses from his jaw, to his ear. She tangled her fingers around his curls, holding her weight while speaking softly and as close to him as she could. "Take me home, Haz."
"Mhmm…" Harry nodded, his hair brushing her temple.
She moved back towards his cheek, leaving a wet trail behind while making his mouth her final destination.
"Please?" she asked, then kissed him shortly.
"Sure." He nodded again, leaning in— "Anything you want." —and kissing her again.
Maisy smiled. The way he seemed enraptured by her was cute and sweet, but also extremely arousing. She could only imagine the things they would do under the influence of that dynamic, and she couldn't wait to find out. But the only way she would be able to do all the things she wanted to do was if they weren't standing in the middle of the street, only two blocks and a half away from their friends. So she sucked his bottom lip and pulled away, letting it slide softly between her teeth while stroking his scalp.
"Now," she whispered, watching him stand there, at her mercy, with closed eyes and parted mouth. "Take me home, Harry, please."
He opened his eyes.
"Wha—" He licked his lips, and shook his head. "I mean, yes." Out of breath, he nodded once, and then twice, and then thrice. "Yeah. Ok. Home. Yes."
Maisy giggled. Still caressing the back of his head, she flinched her chin back and pulled away slightly, only to be able to watch him better. "You okay?"
"Dunno. Think 'm high right now."
She frowned, holding herself from laughing any louder than she should. "High?!"
"Mhm. Pretty sure I got high from your kisses."
"Oh my God." Maisy snorted. She placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him off, but his hands on her ass didn't allow her to put any actual distance between them.
"Think I developed an addiction—"
"Shut up."
"—and your mouth is my drug—"
" — Harry! — "
" — I need more — "
" — You're ridiculous—"
" — Gimme more — "
He kissed her again, and although Maisy couldn't stop laughing at how lame and silly he was, she still kissed him back. He smirked, seemingly proud of her reaction, then moved his large hand to her face and cradled her cheek, leading the way into a much slower and tender pace. His mouth was suddenly gentle, moving carefully while discovering a new side of their relationship. Not a desperate and hungry version, like it'd been up until then, but a smooth and thoughtful one. Made of sweet and calm kisses. Of gentle pecks, and timid tugs. Of wet lips, and honest affection.
Eventually, their eagerness toned down, dissolving into a different kind of longing for each other. Less desperate on one hand, but much more intense on the other.
Harry sighed, then broke off the kiss.
"Let's go," — he pecked her lips one — "then." — two — "Let's go home." — three — "Mine," — four times — "Or yours?"
One last kiss, lingering longer than the others, and Maisy finally blinked her eyes open. Harry's hand was warm on her cheek, and she felt herself needily nuzzling against it. She took a minute to catch her breath, and also to adjust to the dim lights, taking the opportunity to meet his touch with her own hand and turning her face just enough to press a kiss to his palm. Then, she whispered, "Yours… Take me back to yours."
He leaned in to kiss her temple, then brushed his lips on her skin as he spoke. "Back to mine it is, then."
— — — — —
In five years, Harry had already driven Maisy home, to the grocery store, to parties, from parties, to work, from work, to the hospital, to Niall's, and even back to her parents house.
In the process, Maisy had watched him a lot. She had watched him enough to memorize the way he would spread his legs and switch his foot between pedals, the way he would relax into the car seat and blindly shift gears, or the way he would place his elbow by the window and hold the steering wheel with one hand. More than not, she'd admired him secretly, too pent-up to say anything, and too afraid to let him show how much he affected her. Only a few times she had been brave enough to praise him out loud, although usually hiding behind some joke about how much he tried to look cool while driving, and never admitting how deeply attracted to him she actually felt.
That day though, as he drove them back to his apartment, whilst everything seemed to be still the same between them, everything seemed to be just as different and new. Because now, while she watched him turn the steering wheel, she also couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened in the middle of the street. And now, as she watched him flex his arms and shift gears, she also couldn't stop thinking about the feeling that kept dripping out between her legs.
"You're staring," Harry said, stopping at the traffic light. He turned his head to the side and smiled, sliding his now free hand against hers and intertwining their fingers once again.
Biting her lip, Maisy tried her best not to beam at him. It was useless, though, and her mouth ended up curling into the biggest and most genuine grin.
"I am," she laughed, then shrugged. "You look hot when you drive."
Harry widened his eyes, but there was a twinkle behind his gaze that made her feel comfortable about his reaction. As if the shock of her words did nothing but please him.
"Hot?" He squeezed her palm. "You think?"
Maisy nodded.
"I do, yeah… It's just… Hard to look away."
"Hmm…" Slowly, he let go of her hand, then placed his palm on her thigh, spreading his fingers open and digging them slightly into her flesh. "Keep looking, then."
Heat spread under her skin, and goosebumps rose all over. Harry's hand was large and heavy, and it covered so much of her leg that it was hard not to pay attention to it, or to ignore how close it was to a place she didn't think he would ever actually be. And yet a place that he had teased just minutes earlier. A place that he had rolled and pressed himself against. A place that he had fully woken up that night.
And judging by the way he grasped her in that exact moment, and by the way he had touched her earlier—so thirsty to squeeze and press her closer—Maisy knew he would be good at… Everything. She knew he would be the one to match the expectations no other guy had been able to match up until then. And she knew that he would be the one to set her body on a whole new level of fire. Not because other guys hadn't been good—after all she'd had some pretty great sexual experiences in her life—but because he was different to her. They felt different.
And she wanted to get a taste of that. She wanted to have him. She wanted him to touch her. And she wanted it all right now.
"Ugh." Maisy shuffled on the passenger seat and looked away from him, watching the empty street and covering the back of his hand with her palm. "Why is your place so far away?"
Harry smirked, and although she couldn't see him, she could feel the burning of his eyes all over her chest.
"It's not, actually," he said, so low and so husky that it felt almost calculated. As if he knew the effect it would have on her. "I think you're just eager to get there."
He squeezed her thigh, getting his fingertips just a little bit deeper into her, and Maisy faced him again.
If he wanted to play that game, then she would play it just as well.
Staring into his eyes, she scooched down a little, then dragged his hand along with hers. Sliding it just an inch up through her thigh. "I think I am, yes."
His gaze faltered for a moment, dropping down to where she was guiding their touch. Maisy bit her lip, enjoying his attentiveness, and kept moving their hands, stopping only when his pinky finger reached the crease between her thigh and her pelvis. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed her body, pinching her flesh with his fingers.
Maisy sighed, hypnotized on how pretty and hot and cute and manly he looked. All at the same time.
"Aren't you?" she asked, making sure her voice acted as a mirror of her current feelings, and sharing with him the sensual and confident side of her. One she had never been able to show him before, but was dying to.
Harry licked his lips and exhaled through his nose, then looked back at her face. He blinked a couple of times, then asked, "Hm? Am I what?"
Holding back a smile, she slid her fingers up his wrist, freeing his hand from her touch at the same time she brought her other hand around and placed it on her other inner thigh.
"Eager," she murmured. She squeezed her own leg, just like he'd done it before, and made her way up to the place her body most wanted him to be. "To get home… And touch me."
"Jesus Christ." Harry looked between her legs and swallowed, sinking his nails so deeply into her flesh that Maisy couldn't help but hiss at the pain.
Moving her palm from her inner thigh to the back of his hand, she finally directed him to her burning and aching center. She circled her other fingers around his forearm, holding tightly onto him, and rolled her hips timidly, subtly. Almost as if she didn't want him to see it—but also making sure he would not only see it, but that he would also feel it.
"I want you to touch me," she murmured, rolling her hips for a second time.
He dug the heel of his palm between her legs, then pressed his fingertips onto her center. "I can see that."
"You don't want to?"
Harry glared at her. Something seemed to have snapped inside him, and his voice got darker when he asked, "What do you think?"
Maisy shrugged, trying hard to create complete, full, coherent sentences while Harry's hand was finally there. "I hope you do. And that I'm not embarrassing myself."
He stroked his fingers through her wetness, curling his fingers and meeting his own palm as he grabbed between her legs—so harshly and so firmly that Maisy closed her eyes and squirmed on the passenger seat. She gasped quietly, leaning into his arm and pressing her forehead near his shoulder. Fully letting him take over the situation.
"I like this side of you." He loosened up his fingers, then moved them up and down, over and over again, spreading her wetness as best as he could despite the layers of clothes that covered her. "Almost made me lose my game over there. But look at you now… Did you always feel like this?"
"Oh God," she mouthed onto his bicep. The fabric of her pants, plus her thong, didn't allow her to feel him properly, but she felt enough to quiver from head to toe, and enough to make her want more.
She spread her legs wider, and Harry increased the pressure and speed of his stroke, moving his fingers faster and more forcefully.
"Tell me, did you always feel like this when I drove you places?" he insisted. "Did I always make you this wet?"
Maisy nodded, and grunted.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know it's—It's kinda inappropriate, isn't it? I—Sorry—"
"Shh,shhh… It's not." Harry rubbed her covered entrance in circles. Quick circles, experienced circles, making her get wetter and wetter. "Wish I knew sooner, that's all."
He focused on performing his task with only one finger, then, pressing it between her lips and then rubbing circles in search for that spot that would drive her insane. As soon as he found it, Maisy jolted and moaned, unable to contain herself anymore.
Still holding onto his arm, she recovered the strength on her other hand, covering his knuckles and fingers and guiding his touch once again. She helped him so he could touch her like she wanted him to, so he could keep pressing and stroking her exactly where she needed him to, and before she could notice it, she was fully rolling her hips on their connected hands. Searching for more friction. Desperate for relief.
Harry groaned, and she arched her back. He pressed faster, and faster. And she was there. Almost there. So, so, so almost there.
She just needed some more rolling, just like that, some more gasping, oh God, yes, and then—
And then someone honked behind them.
They both jumped. Maisy pressed her legs together and covered her center with one hand, while Harry straightened up and stretched his arm across her chest—as if that would hide her the flush from her cheeks, or the desperation from her breath, or the lust from her eyes.
The car behind them honked again. And again.
"Wha—"
"Green," she breathed out, pointing to the traffic light while her chest moved up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
And the car behind them honked, again.
"Shit," Harry mumbled, letting go of Maisy to shift gears and press the clutch pedal, then easily letting it go again. "Sorry… Sorry."
Still out of breath, she kept her legs pressed together and nodded. "Yeah, I—Yeah…"
He sped up before pressing the clutch pedal and shifting gears again, driving as fast as he could through the city.
Maisy clenched her thighs, then between her legs, and shuffled on her seat.
Peeking at her, Harry sighed.
"Shit. I'm sorry."
Maisy nodded again. How long did they just spend there? Stupidly parked at a traffic light? And how many green lights did they ignore?
"You ok?" he asked, eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel.
She shifted and rearranged herself, feeling the burning desire between her legs turn into sticky coldness.
"Yeah… I just…" Maisy said, watching the neighborhood through the window and chuckling lightly. "I forgot we were there."
"I know, me too," Harry laughed. "Shit. Completely lost track of time, too."
"Mhm."
She laughed.
And then they both laughed.
Peeking at her again, Harry grabbed her hand one more time, pulling it from her lap and taking it to his mouth.
"Don't worry, by the way." He kissed the back of her hand, then took their connected hands to shift gears. "I'll take care of you as soon as we get home."
She smiled, then intertwined her fingers with his. "Mhm. You better."
"Ok," Harry said, turning the steering wheel and straightening out the tires. He put the car into neutral and lifted the handbrake, then took his feet off the pedals and twisted the ignition key. The engine stopped working, but silence didn't have enough time to settle before he tapped her leg twice and spoke again, "Get out."
He stepped out of the car, and Maisy blinked. Smiling to herself, she shook her head and reached to open her door, but Harry was already there, doing the job for her and offering his hand for her to hold.
She narrowed her eyes, and looked up at him.
"C'mon," he said, wiggling his fingers. "Out."
She opened her mouth to call him out for his demanding tone, but ended up snorting and chuckling, instead.
"Well, look who's eager now," she muttered, taking his offer and grabbing his hand, then getting out and stepping aside.
The last five minutes of the drive to his place had been completely silent, and although his promise of taking care of her as soon as they got home lingered between them, all the events of that day had finally started catching up with her brain while Harry's thumb soothed the back of her hand and she watched the streets go by through the window. Tiredness and sleepiness got a hold of her muscles, and her thoughts worked at a much slower pace than before. So whilst she still found herself desperate to get to his apartment, she also wouldn't have complained about taking a short nap first.
"To be fair," he said, "been eager since I first saw you tonight."
He slammed the door shut, and its bang echoed around the parking lot. Maisy looked around, fixing her outfit while Harry moved to stand in front of her. He seemed to be the only neighbor who hadn't been in the building that night, all the other spots already occupied by different types of cars. Other than that, everything was quiet, as if they were the only two people awake in the entire town.
"What happened to building maintenance?" she murmured.
Harry tilted his head and smiled, placing his hands on her hips and caging her between his body and his car. "Building maintenance?"
Looking over his shoulder, Maisy rested her hands on his chest and shrugged. It hadn't always been intense, gray darkness and dim lights, had it? She usually walked into the building through the front door, so she couldn't remember the last time she'd been there, but she was pretty convinced it used to look more appealing than… That.
"Yes. Half of the bulbs are gone," she pointed out.
He lifted his hands to her face, brushing his thumb over her jawline while sliding the other four to the back of her neck. "Are they?"
Guiding her to look at him, he tilted his chin down and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
Maisy sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying his softness. "Mhmm…"
He pulled away, only enough to murmur, "Didn't notice."
And then he kissed her again. Curling his mouth around her bottom lip and getting a taste of it, then letting it go and repeating the process with the upper one.
Kind of dizzy, Maisy dropped her palms to his waist, grasping at his t-shirt for some balance just as he tilted her head to the side and drifted his kisses to her cheek.
"It's just…" She swallowed, keeping her eyes shut and focusing on the way his wet lips caressed her skin. "Kinda dark… Isn't it?"
Harry hummed, pressing more and more kisses. He took his time moving towards her ear, meanwhile drawing small circles on her lower jaw and pushing her body against the closed door.
"It is dark, yes," he said, brushing his nose next to her ear and allowing every word to resonate inside her. "Means no one can see us."
Maisy rested her weight on his car, and Harry waved both hands up through her hair, holding it into a ponytail. With a gentle but firm tug, he pulled her head back, then moved his kisses down to her neck.
God. That felt good.
Really good.
He kissed her again. And again, and again, and again. Parting his lips slightly and making it wet. Making it sweet. Making it noisy. Hmmmm…
She parted her lips, breathing heavily through her mouth. Heat seemed to rush to every spot he touched, and she could feel her pulse racing in her throat.
So good.
"I mean," she barely managed to say. "Maybe… Someone… Could…"
He hummed again, a little longer this time, letting her know he was listening even though he seemed much more preoccupied about covering her throat with warm, needy and calculated kisses.
"Yes…" He parted his lips wider, pressing them where her neck met her shoulder and sliding his tongue up and down. Wet, and warm. Once, and twice. "Maybe."
Harry knew what he was doing, tracing a dreamy and sensual path from one side to the other with his plump and juicy lips. Sucking slightly even now and then, soothing with his tongue, teasing with his teeth. Using his large hands to tilt her head as he pleased. Letting her know how careful and affectionate he could be, but also showing off his power and strength.
Maisy's heart skipped a beat, and her legs weakened.
"Wanna risk it?" he asked, breathing hot air into her ear.
Twisting her hands around his t-shirt, Maisy opened her eyes. She licked her lips and swallowed, putting herself together and finding the last remains of energy to say something back to him.
Truth be told, there was something about being the only two in that dark parking lot that made her feel excited to keep going. The danger was a turn on, and there was no other person that could ever make her feel as safe as Harry did, so she knew that if there was a time to be brave and risk it all, that would be it.
At the same time, the idea of getting caught by one of his neighbors—people she more than often encountered in the elevator or walking in the hallway—brought nervousness to the pit of her stomach. It was one thing to make out passionately and let others know how much you were into someone, but getting caught naked and mid-orgasm was completely different. At least when it came to Maisy, of course.
"That eager, huh?" she asked, facing the ceiling and waiting for him to tilt her head back down. "Can't even make it to the fourth floor?"
Her question put a smirk on his face, and it granted her wishes, causing Harry to tighten the grip of his fingers and guide her to look at him again.
"That eager, yes." He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose up and down her own. "Can you blame me?"
He let go of her hair and slid his fingers down, brushing the tips on each side of her neck.
"Been thinking about you in this outfit since I first saw you tonight."
He traced her collarbones, then breezed from her shoulders to her forearms, sliding his own shirt off from her arms, and then going all the way back up to her chest once again.
Her flesh prickled at his touch, and a brief shiver rippled through her, causing Harry's smirk to get even wider.
Just like before, his reaction was enough to snap something inside her. Because even though she enjoyed taking orders and being compliant to someone else's wishes, Maisy didn't enjoy giving all her power away. Not all at once, at least.
So she looked down at her own body, let Harry's shirt hang on her elbows, and raised her eyebrows.
"This outfit?" she asked, as if she hadn't bought that top specifically for that night. Or as if she had never heard Harry talking to the boys about bloody gorgeous tits before. Or as if she wasn't proud of the curves she had to offer. Or as if she hadn't hoped of getting his attention when she'd put the pieces together and stared at herself in the mirror earlier in the afternoon.
"Mhmm…" He grabbed the spaghetti straps between his fingers, then followed their path from her shoulders to her chest. "This outfit."
She glanced up again, then watched him carefully and patiently, fluttering her eyelids while drowning her voice in innocence and naivety. "What about it?"
"Do I really need to say it?"
Maisy nodded. "I would like you to, yes."
Harry hummed, and looked down at her chest. He toyed with the thin straps a little longer, hooking each one inside of his fingers and running through them up and down.
If Maisy would've had to guess, she would've thought he was pondering his next words. Weighing them up. Choosing them carefully. Making sure they wouldn't go unnoticed, and therefore making sure she wouldn't go unaffected. She'd seen Harry flirting so many times, that she knew how much liked the thrill of the chase. She'd also shared a lot of conversations with him about the subject, so she knew how much he cared about making other people feel good, even when he knew it wouldn't go further than a one night stand—although even if she hadn't talked to him about it, she knew that making people feel good was a trait that played a huge part in who Harry was; not only when dating or hooking up, but just in general.
"Well," he eventually said, clearing his throat and answering her question. "I mean, I didn't want to be disrespectful at the club, but…"
He moved his hands, leaving the straps of her top behind and tracing its edge instead.
"To be completely honest…" He brushed the tips of his index and middle fingers across her cleavage. Teasingly and featherly. Eying his own movements. Scanning the patterns he drew all over the swell of her breasts. "And only because you're asking…"
He paused to glance into her eyes, then slid his tongue between his lips and looked back down to his hands.
"I couldn't stop staring at these," he finally added.
Maisy's skin tingled, and her insides quivered. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the way his fingers made her feel. Enjoying the fact that he'd been staring at her breasts. And enjoying even more the idea of him filling his hands with them and giving both a forceful squeeze. Shit. She swallowed.
Her heart hammered in her ears, though, and her lungs didn't seem to keep up with so much information. She knew Harry could feel her chest moving up and down frenziedly under his touch, meaning that, once again, it would be impossible for her to hide how breathless he made her feel.
So she would have to use it in her favor, instead.
Shifting on her feet, she leaned fully into the car and breathed in deeply, filling up her chest and pressing her cleavage briefly into his hands. Then, she exhaled through her nose, leaving Harry's fingers running over empty air.
"And?" she asked, feeling herself taking control once again. "What's your verdict?"
He peeked at her and took a step forward, fingers finding her again. "My verdict?"
"Mhm. You like them?"
Harry wiggled his eyebrows and nodded, letting her know he understood the question.
Focusing on one breast, he moved his index finger up and down, drawing a straight line, then repeating the process an inch or two to the side.
"I think they're gorgeous," he said, connecting the two lines with a horizontal stroke.
Maisy smiled. "Thanks. I think so, too."
Harry smiled, too, then moved to her other breast. "You do, huh?"
Once again, he traced two vertical lines, and connected them horizontally with a third one.
"Mhmm…"
"Can't see why you wouldn't." He reached her sides and drifted down, roaming through her ribcage. "Can't see why anyone wouldn't."
He got past the exposed skin of her waist, then to the waistline of her pants.
"These are really nice, too." He sneaked four fingers between the fabric and her stomach, leaving only his thumb out as he grabbed onto the waistline and pulled her forward. Maisy gasped quietly, almost unnoticeable, stumbling on her feet while Harry skimmed his other hand down through her belly. "But I bet this one" —he tilted his chin down while she tilted her head up, and then he cupped between her legs, fully palming and covering her heat— "looks better."
Maisy snorted, pressing herself into his touch. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Holding each other's gazes, they both smirked.
Harry pushed his hand into her, backing her up and forcing her into the cold car while stepping forward. "Am I supposed to pretend I'm not dying to take your clothes off?"
Maisy shrugged. "I mean, I would rather if you got right into it, but if you want to keep playing games…"
Harry's smirk faded away. He rubbed his fingers up and down, making sure to stroke from one side to the other. Harsher. Fully. From her entrance, to her front. Just like he'd done earlier that day. But somehow even better.
Oh God. Maisy blinked, then moved her palms up to his arms, holding tightly onto him while flickering her eyes all over his face.
Something had happened.
There were no traces of playfulness or teasing anymore. No more smirks, no more cluelessness. No more fake oblivion. No more mulling over his words.
Harry looked focused and determined. Sure of himself. And yet ready to crumble.
"'M not playing games," he stated, touching her. Always touching her. "Would never play games with you."
Oh. The information clicked inside her mind, and she squeezed his arms. "I—I know."
She hadn't meant it like that, and she knew Harry wasn't messing around with her. He wouldn't do that. If he didn't want her, then he wouldn't be with her. Simply as that.
"Good." He slid his foot between her boots and parted her legs, then spread them even wider with his knee. "Now, I'd really like to make you cum."
Applying more pressure to his hand, he rubbed circles, just like she'd guided him earlier.
Ohh… Maisy fluttered her eyelids, then fully closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, holding back a moan and turning it into a soft whine, instead.
"Can I make you cum, pretty girl?"
Turning the corners of her mouth up, Maisy nodded.
"Right here?" He moved faster. "Right now?"
Oh God. She swallowed, then slid her tongue through her parted lips and glanced at him.
"I—Oh God—" The words flew out from her mind to her mouth, and she dropped her forehead to his chest. "Are there—Shit—Are there cameras here?"
He shook his head. "Nope."
"Then—"
"We can barely afford light bulbs. Or so I've heard."
"Oh my God," she chuckled, twisting his t-shirt inside her fingers as the feeling grew more and more intense with each stroke. "Shut up, and—Oh God… Just… Fuck."
"Yes?" he asked, the smile clear in his voice.
She breathed in and out, heavily and loudly, and slid one hand from his arm to her own waist. Pulling away from his chest, she stared into his green eyes and unbuttoned her pants.
"Touch me." And then, she unzipped them. "Now."
Harry smirked. He looked around and over his shoulder, then stood by her side and pushed her further towards the front of the car, closer to the wall. Maisy sighed, and relaxed. It was good to know they were in sync. That no matter how much they wanted to do that, none of them got to the point of disrespecting each other's—or other people's—boundaries.
And then, he sneaked his hand inside her pants, and every one of her worries and random thoughts vanished away. She focused on him, and on the things he did to her. She focused on the way he stood straighter and stretched his arm, then got in between the lace of her thong and the warmth of her skin. She focused on the way he stepped forward and relaxed his body into her side, too, throwing his free arm around her neck while angling his other forearm to get his fingertips past her hair, and right into her wet flesh.
"Fuck."
"Fuck."
They looked at each other for a second, and then they both chuckled, simultaneously leaning in for a whole new kiss.
"Fucking finally…" Harry mumbled.
He dipped his middle finger between her folds and stroked it up and down, collecting her wetness and spreading it around. Maisy shivered, and her hips jerked forward, almost against her will. With a grunt, Harry pulled his hand off from her pants and broke the kiss, bringing his middle finger to his mouth and sucking it in.
He closed his eyes when tasting her, and Maisy's body got on fire. Grabbing his t-shirt into fists, she pulled him closer, then licked her way around his jaw. Tasting whatever inch she could reach, and as much as she could, while he put his hand back inside her pants.
"C'mere." He kissed her again, and dipped his fingers between her folds again. Stroking them up and down. Spreading her open. Getting to know every corner of her.
Maisy sighed. She moved her hands, grabbing his neck, and his bicep, then let her body react to his wonderful, skillful fingers. His never stopping fingers. Stroking up and down, up and down. Rubbing circles. Pressing her clit. Rubbing her clit. So good. So, so good.
"Oh God." She leaned into him, moving her hips and searching for more friction. "Harry…"
"Yeah?"
More. She needed more.
"Ugh," she practically whined, opening her eyes. "Touch me."
"I am touching you."
She smacked his shoulder. "Then touch me more."
Harry laughed, then quickly kissed her again. He hunched slightly and pressed his middle finger inside her. Just barely, though, not even making it to his first knuckle before freezing and kissing the corner of her mouth.
"Like this?"
"More."
Half an inch forward.
"Like this?"
"Oh my God!" She grabbed his wrist, and glared at him. "I hate you so much right now!"
He smiled, kissing her cheek, and her chin, then her mouth. "No you don't."
Maisy rolled her eyes. "I do, yes."
"Hmmm."
With half of his middle finger still inside her, he pressed one side of his hand on her clit, then went back to rubbing circles.
She let go of his wrist and placed both hands on his shoulders, then threw her head back and rolled her hips back and forth.
"You said you'd make me cum…"
Keeping the steady movement of his hand, Harry kissed her cheek.
"You're right, baby."
Baby.
Maisy throbbed between her legs, then squeezed her eyes shut.
"I did say that," he added, and she huffed.
"So make me, damnit."
"Alright baby," —he bent his knees, then pushed his middle finger deep inside her— "Alright."
Oh.
Maisy moaned.
He slid his hand and pushed his finger out. Then thrusted back inside. Curving it, he pressed it against her wall, searching for that spot that would drive her insane. When he found it, Maisy's knees wobbled, and she melted into him.
"Oh God." She looked into his eyes, breathing from her mouth while he stared back at her.
"Yeah?" Out. And in. Hitting into that same spot one more time. "Right there?"
She bit her lip, and nodded. "Mhmmm…"
He pulled his lonely finger out, then pushed two inside. Aiming for that same delicious spot, over and over again. Making her feel good—so, so good.
She held onto him, hypnotized as she watched the beautiful green of his eyes, and he threaded his free hand through her hair, pulling her till his lips were against her temple. Breathing into her while he worked his strong fingers inside her. Pumping so hard that she could hear her dripping wetness in the dead-silent parking lot.
"God…" She bit her lip. "I dreamed about this for so long."
"Yeah? Is it like you dreamed it would be?"
"Much… Much better."
Harry sighed, then tightened the grip around her hair and tilted her face to the side. "C'mere."
He kissed her firmly, then, connecting their lips and keeping them together while he tried his best to angle his arm and hit the spot hidden inside her.
"Fuck…" She moaned into his mouth. "Can you… Oh God… Can you make it three?"
He hunched down, wriggling inside her pants to adjust his hand.
"Shit." He pulled away from her mouth and looked over his shoulder, then back at her. "Can't with these pants… And I don't want to undress you here…"
Maisy nodded. "Okay."
"Sorry." He pumped in and out again.
"It's—It's fine, I just… I need more."
"Then I'll give you more."
He pulled his fingers out and held her tightly with his palm, then spinned her body around. Pressing his chest to her back and hovering over her shoulder, he held her body firmly with his other arm, and proceeded to work between his legs. He pressed one finger to her clit and rubbed circles, gradually increasing the speed and pressure of his movements. The new position allowed him to relieve some of his own tension, too, rocking his hardening bulge against her ass.
Maisy melted into his hold, throwing her arm up and around his neck and holding tightly onto him while moving her hips back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
That was so much better.
Oh God.
He squeezed her tighter, keeping her in place while he made sure to give her everything she needed and wanted. More pressure, more speed. Kisses to her neck, and to her jaw. Breathing hotly into her ear.
"Yes, yes." She pulsed, throbbed, and quivered. "Oh God."
Harry moved steadily, but faster. Pushing her further, and further.
"That's it, baby," he murmured into her ear. "That's it. C'mon."
He pushed her further and further. And even further.
Until Maisy finally exploded, shuddered, and trembled.
''Ah!"
She fell forward, and Harry grabbed her. Pulling her upright, and driving her through her climax. Out of breath and numb, she grabbed his wrist and squeezed him. Silently begging for him to stop.
He complied and pulled his fingers away from her clit, soothing her and shushing her when she hissed. But then he removed his hand from her pants and automatically took it up to his mouth, licking and sucking the mess she'd made while humming next to her ear. As if she was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.
Maisy moaned, almost painfully, holding onto his arm around her waist and instinctively drawing circles with her ass up and down his length.
"Please. Please. Just take me upstairs now."
— — — — —
The walk to the fourth floor happened in a rush. They didn't let go of each other while walking, nor stopped kissing or touching when they got inside the elevator. And by the time they were inside the living room, Harry's t-shirt was already on the floor and Maisy's boots were long forgotten by the door.
They blindly guided each other around the furniture, kissing and touching while they unbuttoned each other's pants. Harry's were the first to get lost on the hallway, and Maisy didn't miss one second before feeling him up through his briefs. He grunted and sighed, chasing her mouth while encouraging her to take the rest of her clothes off.
Maisy stumbled as they got inside his bedroom, and they both laughed, having to slow down and take a deep breath before moving on. But then she sat on the foot of the bed and Harry kneeled in front of her, going along with every single one of her movements and helping to undress her.
He kissed her legs, and moved his lips up her body, losing himself with her scent when he nuzzled his nose between her legs. He kissed her on top of the laced thong, and then pulled the item off her body. He moved up, and they captured each other's mouths once again. Kissing, sucking, nibbling. He felt her up, and she felt him up. She squeezed him with her palm, and traced him with her fingers. He breathed in and out heavily from her mouth, too worked up to properly kiss her. And then she kissed his bottom lip, holding it and sucking it into her mouth as she slid into the elastic of his briefs and finally touched him.
Harry moaned. So raw, manly, and helpless at the same time that it made her smile.
She stroked him up and down, then. Up and down, up and down. He was full, firm, and hot under her hand. Rigid. Solid. His own neediness had already gotten him wet, but not enough for her hand to slide as smoothly as she would've liked, so she pulled it off and brought it to her mouth.
Harry took the opportunity to take the last item off, his shaft hitting his stomach and making him hiss. He stroked himself, crawling over her body before diving into her neck.
Maisy squirmed, and moaned. She searched for his hand, and once she grabbed it, she pulled it directly to her chest.
"Want them in your mouth," she murmured, squeezing her breast with the help of his hand.
Harry buckled his hips into hers, and cursed into her skin. He sat on his heels and brought her along by her arms, then pulled at the sleeves of his own shirt to take it off her body.
"Tomorrow morning you're wearing this again," he said, holding up his shirt in his hand and then throwing it to the floor. "And I'm gonna fuck you in it."
Maisy smiled. "Yes, sir."
He sighed then shook his head, and she giggled. Lifting one arm, she unzipped her top with the other one. Harry helped her get rid of it, and then he was all over her body once again. Snuggling into her chest and parting his mouth to get a taste of her breast. Squeezing it into his hand and sucking it fervently. Nibbling her nipple, flickering his tongue. Sucking even more.
"Bloody fucking gorgeous," he mumbled around her.
"God, yes." She relaxed into the mattress, threading her hands into his hair and arching her body into his mouth. "Take more."
He sucked deeper, unashamedly slurping as he drooled all over her skin and grinded against her hips.
Maisy exploded with pure, raw, and wild need for him. She bent her knees and placed her feet on the bed, then spread her legs open. Stretching her arm between their bodies, she grabbed his length and pressed his tip between her folds, rubbing up and down her wetness.
"Fuck." She moaned, rolling her hips up.
"Jesus Christ," Harry grunted. "You're so fucking sexy."
He moved to her other breast, massaging the one he had just abandoned. Losing himself in her taste and squeezing her just as fiercely as he sucked her into his mouth.
Fuck. Maisy really liked that. She really liked when men loved her breasts, but Harry being the one who sucked them into his mouth was mind-blowing. It made her feral. It drove her insane.
"Hell yes." She moaned, and he moaned.
She threaded her free hand around his curls and pressed him closer to her chest. Hoping to suffocate him with her breasts. "Keep going…"
Harry hummed, drinking her in while writhing against her hand.
She scratched his scalp with one hand, and pressed him between her folds with the other. Rocking her hips back and forth while he got drunk on her. "Just like that…"
He searched for her hands, then, slotting their fingers together and sinking them onto the mattress while he devoured her entirely. Letting her breast go with a loud pop and moving immediately to her neck.
"I need you," he mumbled, spreading open-mouthed kisses to whatever he could reach. "Now. I need you now."
She hooked her legs around his waist, adjusting so he could roll and rub himself against her clit. "Mhmm… Please."
He bit her neck, and she dropped her head back, arching into him and squeezing his hands.
"Condom," he mumbled. "I'll—Condom…"
"Mhmm…"
Maisy nodded, dropping her legs to the mattress, and Harry moved, stretching to open the drawer on the bed side table. She took the opportunity to kiss his neck, and his shoulder, tasting him slowly and fervently. He grunted, having trouble concentrating, but eventually grabbed a foil package and moved back to her mouth.
He kissed her, then pulled away to tore the wrapper open with his teeth, and kissed her again. They moved together to put on the condom, always finding ways to keep meeting for tender and lazy kisses. Once he was ready, Maisy shuffled on his bedsheets and made herself comfortable, watching as he slotted between her legs and then crawled to place one elbow next to her head.
Holding himself with one arm and looking into her eyes, he took one hand down and grabbed himself.
She hugged his neck, and he teased his tip around her clit, then tapped it twice against her entrance.
Maisy hissed, and Harry grunted.
"Fucking hell," he muttered, guiding himself inside her body. "I really, really hope I last."
Maisy laughed, and he smiled. And then they kissed.
She instantly hooked her legs around his waist, resting her heels above his bum and encouraging him to get closer. To go deeper. To fill her.
Kissing.
Panting.
Moaning.
Shivering.
Maisy squeezed her eyes together, feeling the burn of the first stretch. And Harry kissed her again. Maybe trying to sooth her. Or maybe because he just couldn't stay away.
"You good?" he asked, caging her head between his forearms.
"Yeah…" She licked her lips, and blinked. "So good."
"Can I fuck you like this?" he asked. "Wanna see you."
She nodded. "Whatever you want. Just fuck me already."
Harry chuckled, then rolled his hips, sliding in and out slowly, just to test the waters.
"Whatever I want?"
Maisy sighed, and nuzzled her hands into his curls. "Yes. Whatever you want."
In…
And out…
"In that case," he said. "Wanna fuck you like this tonight."
In…
And out…
"And want you to ride me tomorrow."
Maisy smiled.
In…
And out…
"Wearing your shirt?" she asked.
"Fuck yes."
In…
He brushed the side of his nose with hers, and smiled, too. "Nothing but my shirt."
And out…
In…
She nodded. "Mkay…"
And out…
"Hmmm."
In…
And out…
"We'll have…" he started, then kept going as he followed the affectionate and sensual pace of his hips. "The rest… Fuck… Of our lives… To try… Different… Positions… Anyway… Yeah?"
Maisy smiled again. "The rest of our lives, huh?"
In…
Harry kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "Too cliché?"
And out…
She shook her head. "I like the sound of it."
"Yeah… Me too."
In…
And out…
In…
And out…
"Fuck," he growled.
Picking up the pace, he held his weight firmly onto his forearms, then moved his hips and focused on thrusting into her. In and out, in and out, in and out. Faster. And deeper.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
Maisy whimpered and squeezed her arms around his shoulders, needing something to hold onto as he built a frantic pace.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
"Took me all this… Shit… All this time to figure it out," he mumbled. "I'm not—Fuck—I'm not letting you go now."
She arched her back, and sank her nails into his back. "I'm not going anywhere."
He smashed their mouths together. Rocking his hips into her. Pounding into her. Faster. Deeper. The bed knocked into the wall. And their skin smacked together.
Hell yes.
So good.
"Don't stop," she pleaded.
So fucking good.
Loud.
Desperate.
Needy.
Hungry.
Feral.
"C'mon baby…" he mumbled around her lips, then took one hand down to her waist. "C'mon…"
More. More. More.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
Deep. Deep. Deep.
"Y—Yeah… Right—Shit. Right there… Oh my God… Keep going… Keep going…"
"You're so loud," Harry chuckled, squeezing her waist and keeping up the reckless pace. "Fucking… Love… It… Fuuuck."
Maisy gasped. She scrunched up her face, and gripped his ass with both hands.
"More… I need… More…"
"Jesus Christ…" Still holding his weight with one arm, he let go of her waist and moved between her legs, then rubbed her swollen clit. "Like that?"
She moaned loudly, crying out as her walls spasmed and contracted around him and all the tension snapped at once, causing her body to tremble from head to toe.
"Fuck—" Harry closed his eyes. "Isy— Shit… I'm… Isy… Fuck."
He shattered on top of her, pulsing inside her walls as he emptied himself inside the condom and went still with each—
last—
fucking—
thrust.
"Fuuuuuck."
He held himself and pulled out, then finally collapsed into her.
.
.
.
Beats of silence went by. Deafening silence. A silence they hadn't ever shared before. Not in five years of friendship. Not with anyone else they'd ever been up until then. A silence that enveloped both of them naturally, that gave them time to recollect their thoughts and catch up their breaths. And a silence that, after another couple of beats, got them both rolling in bed and laughing out loud.
"Oh my God…"
Maisy hid behind her hands, feeling the mattress sink as he got up and got rid of the condom. Although she didn't want to, she followed his steps, going to the bathroom and cleaning herself up.
Moments later, when she walked back into his bedroom, she found Harry laying in bed, wearing clean briefs and waiting for her.
"C'mere," he said, patting the place next to him.
She curled her lips into a smile and practically ran to him, jumping into his bed and snuggling into his side.
"Jesus Christ Isy…" Harry pulled her naked body to himself, sneaking one arm under her neck and sliding the other one around her waist. "I'm so happy and also so fucking mad right now."
"What?" She placed one hand on his chest and hooked one leg around his waist. "Why are you mad?"
"Because!" He laughed. "Can't believe you've been hiding this side from me all this time."
"Hmm… No I haven't."
"Yes, you have."
"No, because I don't even have a side to hide!"
"You totally do. All loud… Chatty… Bossy…"
"That's not true."
"It isss tho…"
"Oh, shut up."
"Exactly!" He laughed even louder, then forced his voice in a poor attempt of mimicking her. "Shut up Harry. Touch me Harry. Fuck me Harry. More Harry. I need more Harry. More Har—Ouch! Heyyyy!"
Maisy let go of his nipple, then slapped his chest. "Stop being stupid!"
"Will you stop fucking pinching me?" he asked, smacking his palm loudly against her ass.
"Shit!" she yelped and laughed, jolting closer to his body.
"You like it rough, don't you?" he added right after, then pinched right under her bum.
"Harry!" Laughing louder, she squirmed inside his arms. "Stop!"
"You like it rough, and you're filthy."
"Oh my God." Maisy rolled her eyes, catching her breath between all the laughing. "So? What's wrong with that? Huh?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Well, then stop judging!"
"I'm not—What? I'm not!" He shuffled, staring into her eyes and caressing her cheek. "Are you kidding me? I fucking love it!"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Mhmm… Sure."
Harry shook his head, and smiled. "Don't be silly… It's just… I don't know, but it felt different, y'know? Like… Fucking great sex… But not just like… The sex, sex, y'know? Everything about it… I don't know. I guess I just never had something like this before… Just… So fun and fucking hot at the same time… Y'know what I mean?"
Maisy bit her lip, and nodded. She cradled his cheek and moved closer, then pulled him in for a slow, sweet, and long, long kiss.
"Yeah," she whispered, pecking his mouth one more time and sliding her hand to the back of his head. "I know exactly what you mean."
Harry grunted softly.
"See?" He squeezed her bum. "And you been keeping this away from me! All this time!"
Maisy rolled her eyes—for what felt like the hundredth time. "Okay. Have you thought that maybe, maybe, if you had made a move on me instead of pulling up random girls at bars, you would've known sooner?"
Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again.
"You're right." He rested his forehead against hers and nodded. Then, he smiled. "Thank God my girl's got attitude, huh?"
Maisy bit her lip and smiled, too.
But then, she grinned. So big she even giggled.
"Your girl, huh?"
"Mhmmm…" He caressed her side. "If you want to be, of course."
"Am I going to be the only one?"
He pulled away, then looked firmly into her eyes. "I want you to be, yes. I want to do this properly. Wanna be with you. Only you. No-one else."
She threaded her fingers around the curls in the back of his head, then stroked his scalp with soft circles.
"I wanna be with you, too. Want you to be mine."
He smiled, and shrugged. "Already am. All yours."
"Good." She kissed him. "No more being just friends, then…"
"Fuck no!" He laughed, and pulled her in for another kiss. Then, he murmured into her lips, "Fuck that shit. We were never just friends, anyway."
a post engagement road trip for the something old kids aka i cannot stop listening to this song and ended up writing 2k words of smut about it
word count: see above, warnings: see above
---
The wind was whipping through your hair, the sun streaming in through the windshield, old 70s rock on the radio. The leather of the car seat felt like it was sticking to every inch of your skin but you didn’t mind. The weed you smoked made everything move in slow motion, all your senses heightened. Everything feeling loose, easy, free. Your hand making waves out the window through the wind, up and down in an addictive pattern.
A warm palm slides on your thigh, his thumb moving up and down before squeezing and you all but melt into the seat, turning to look at him. He smiles over at you before looking back at the wide, empty road.
“Y’ good?” he asks, lips twitching up into a smile.
“So good,” you say back, laughter bubbling over your words, heart skipping when he laughs with you. You can’t pinpoint what’s funny and maybe nothing is. It’s just… everything feels so warm and right and real. You turn back to look out the window, marveling at the open roads, the way it's just you and him for miles.
“Look good like this.” he mumbles, voice barely audible over the wind.
“What, stoned?”
“Nooo,” he laughs, shaking his head, wide grin on his face as he looks you over once more. “Meant y’ look happy. Relaxed. Look nice with that ring on your finger.”
You hum, holding up your hand with said ring on it, thumb twisting over the band, back and forth, taking a moment to admire it in the light.
“It’s a good one, innit?” you say and you can see the way his eyes roll even behind his sunglasses but he still grabs your hand and pulls it towards his mouth, thumb brushing over the ring once before pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
“Your man did good, huh?” he says, releasing your hand to slide his back on your thigh. You slide your hand into his hair and he preens, leaning into the touch.
“Yeah, my man did.” you say and he squeezes your thigh, a soft smile on his lips as you rake your hand through his curls, taking your time to study his profile. The cut of his jaw, the line of the beard he’s been growing out. God, he’s nice to look at. He looks good behind the wheel, too, the flex of his arm as he casually holds the steering wheel, legs splayed wide, his lips moving as he softly sings along to the radio.
You’re struck for a moment at the view, at this man you’ve loved for most of your life, at the ring he proposed to you with gleaming against his hair and you think you want to have this view for the rest of your life. To get to be by his side till the day you die. You can feel it wash over you, almost bowling you over. Knowing he wants the same.
Your hand slides down his hair, playing with the curls at the nape before resting on the back of his neck, his muscles jumping at the touch before you squeeze once and he hums in appreciation. A deep sound from the back of his throat and - oh.
It’s been warm all day but you suddenly feel a rush of heat from the inside out. Your eye catches on a bead of sweat falling down the side of his neck, tracing along the tendons until it pools into the collar of his t-shirt and you’re suddenly parched, desperation flooding your veins, overwhelmed by the need to taste, to touch and be touched. You could blame the high but you know it’s him, it’s always him.
You dig your thumb into the muscle where his shoulder meets his neck, the spot that’s always bothering him. His hand tightens on your thigh for a second before he groans when the muscle starts to give way under your touch.
“Harry,” you choke out, your voice reedy and he hums in response. “Pull over.”
He snaps his head to look at you, confused, before he does a double take, brows shooting up behind his sunnies as he reads what must be obvious need all over your face.
“Y’ serious?” he asks incredulously and you nod fervently, shifting in the seat. “Baby, we’re in –”
“The middle of nowhere, we haven’t seen anyone for miles.” you cut him off, quickly undoing your seatbelt and sliding over on the bench seat, ignoring his muttered “jesus” as you press so against his side, his arm going across your lap as a makeshift belt, hand gripping your outer thigh. His eyes flicking between the road and you and you can see the swallow he takes before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his neck, taking your time to kiss along the skin.
You keep one hand on the back of his neck, the other sliding down the front of his shirt, twisting in the hem before teasing at the waistband of his jeans, sliding down to palm him, biting down on his neck when he inhales sharply.
“Please,” you mumble against his neck, squeezing him once more, his hips twitching up to chase the touch. “Unless you want to keep driving and I can just -”
You go to duck your head down but he stops you, hand tight on your thigh as he sputters out a “crash the bloody car if you do that” that has you laughing into his neck.
“Jus’ hang on a mo’ - let me -” he can barely string a sentence together as he drives for a bit longer before pulling off the road onto where there’s a dip in the tall grass, in between two cypress trees. You watch as his shaky hands throw the car into park, waiting until he pulls the keys out of the ignition before you’re turning his head towards yours to capture his lips in a kiss that has him moaning into your mouth.
You kiss him once, twice, three times before he’s pulling back, mumbling a “let me get these -” and pulling his sunglasses off and throwing them on the dash before his hand wraps around your neck to pull you back in. Your tongue darts out to lick at the seam of his lips before he’s opening up, the first touch of his tongue against yours wrenches a moan from the back of your throat. His hands move up and down your sides, squeezing occasionally before they slide to your hips, shifting you both until he’s in the middle of the seat as he pulls you into his lap.
You slide your hand up into his hair, getting a steady grip as you kiss him with everything you have. His hands feel like they’re everywhere, all at once, sliding up and down your sides before they slide around your back and down, grabbing a handful of your bum as his tongue glides over yours. Everything is warm, perfect heat as arousal pools in your stomach, slowly losing your mind with every drag of his lips.
He wrenches away from your mouth, panting as he catches his breath, his blown out eyes darting all over your face.
“Want me so bad y’ made me stop the car, hm?” he teases and you’re not even thinking of a comeback before you’re nodding and leaning back in.
You kiss him slowly, taking your time to lick into his mouth, goosebumps erupting at his soft moan, the way his hands grip you tighter, the high making you feel everything ten times deeper. He knows just where to touch you to make you sigh into his mouth, his hands sliding up and down your thighs before resting back on your arse, the other sliding up your shirt to cup your breast. He’s gentle until he’s not, squeezing hard and laughing against your lips when you bite down on his in retaliation.
You lose yourselves in each other, each taking turns to take over, mouths and hands exploring as you please. It’s when he’s got his hand on the back of your neck, controlling the kiss with an expert flick of his tongue that you can’t help yourself and grind down against him.
“That’s it,” he says when he pulls away, one hand falling to your hips to encourage their roll as he kisses along your jaw. “Go after it, baby.”
“Need you naked,” you whisper, pulling his head back up towards you to kiss him again. “Need you - backseat.”
He nods, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before pulling away. You climb off him and gracelessly climb over the backseat, breathless with laughter when you watch him do the same. He cups your jaw, kissing you deeply before pulling away.
“Get naked,” he murmurs and you both pull your clothes off as quickly as possible, hands banging against the roof and sides of the car, grunts from when you accidentally kick each other as you’re pulling your jeans off. He makes to hover over you before you shake your head, pushing him back against the seat so he’s sitting up as you straddle him, feeling his hard length right against your core, his eyes wide as he looks up at you, his hand coming up you cup your cheek.
“Baby - someone could see you.” he mumbles and you simply respond with a roll of your hips, making him bite down on his swollen lips, his hands sliding up your thighs and resting on your hips.
“Want them to,” you say, reaching down to curl your hand around him, pumping a few times to watch his neck go taut as you line him up with your center. “Want them to know I’m yours.”
“Jesus- fuck ,” he grunts out, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, his head tipping back to rest on the top of the seat as you sink down on him in one fell swoop, his grip like a vice on your hips.
You’re not so sex stupid to actually risk getting caught - you’re on an abandoned road in the middle of Tuscany - but there’s something about the idea of someone seeing you that’s clearly working for the both of you. You move your hips forward and back, getting used to the stretch as he leans forward to press a line of kisses down your sternum towards your chest, hands sliding up your back as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and gropes the other, soft hands and tongue making you melt.
“How’s it feel?” he mumbles against your chest, switching sides to your other breast as you roll your hips, both of you moaning at the sensation.
“Good. Full.” you mumble, almost delirious in your pleasure, sparks shooting up your spine each time you roll your hips just right. “So full.”
You pull his head off your chest and back up to your mouth to capture his lips in a kiss as you start to find your rhythm, what was once rolls of the hips become full bounces up and down, making him groan against your tongue. He pulls back, one hand falling to grip at your ass as he rests his head against the seat, brow furrowed as he watches you fuck him.
“Y’ so beautiful,” he says, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected. “Fucking - drenching me. In the backseat - shit.”
Your head grazes the roof with every bounce but you can’t be arsed to care, not when he’s looking at you like that, pure want and desire in his eyes, beads of sweat dripping down his chest, his butterfly glistening in the sun. He’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and he’s looking at you like you’re everything and nothing, nothing has ever felt better than this.
“Y’ so good to me,” he grunts out, eyes following your every move. “Love you like this. So fucking hot.”
Fire licks up your spine, your rhythm getting sloppier as his words hurtle you towards your finish. You can barely catch your breath as you dig your nails into his shoulders, grabbing his wrist and pulling it up to your face, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth.
“Fuck. Y’ close, huh?” he asks and you nod around his fingers. “Let’s get you there, baby. Want you to come first, want y’ to come around me.”
He pulls his hand from your mouth, leaning up to kiss you deep, his hand dropping to your clit, drawing mind-numbing circles that have you crying out against his mouth, your hips driving against his more aggressive than ever.
“That’s it. Go after it for me. Want y’ to come, my gorgeous girl.” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back to watch your face with brows furrowed in concentration as he flicks your clit just so and you explode around him, feeling like you’re burning from the inside out as you come, moaning out his name as he doesn’t let up until you stop fluttering around him.
You don’t stop your hips, continuing to grind against him despite the overstimulation, your hand latching on to the back of his hair to kiss along his jaw.
“Need you to come,” you gasp out against his jaw, moaning when he groans and grips you tighter. “Want you to fill me up. Want to feel it.”
“Shit - baby. Fuck. I’m -” He bites down on your shoulder, hands falling to your hips as he rocks his hips up to meet yours, thrusting once, twice, and coming, moaning against your skin as you feel his release coat your walls, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you against his chest.
The two of you breathing deep, panting as you try to catch your breath. He kisses against your collarbone, his hand coming up to brush your hair back behind your shoulder as he leans in to kiss along your neck before leaning back against the seat, looking well-fucked with rosy cheeks, a soft smile on his face as his chest heaves.
“Got my balls all over the upholstery,” he says and you bark out a laugh as he laughs with you, both of you shaking with it. You lean back to ease him out of you, his hands helping guide you as you slide off his lap and sit next to him, your hands immediately reaching for each other, fingers interlocking as you roll your head along the top of the seat to look over at him.
“Just fucked you within an inch of your life and that’s the first thing you say?” you ask and he huffs out a laugh.
“Y’ did, didn’t you?” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Can’t believe you just fucked me in the backseat. That was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”
“Shut up,” you laugh.
“‘M serious. You’ve got no idea what you look like when you’re looking at me like that. Like ‘m the only thing that matters.” he shakes his head, taking a deep inhale before rolling his head to look over at you, deadly serious, his voice rumbling out like gravel. “Makes me feel like I’m on fire.”
He leans over to capture your lips with his, kissing you so slowly, so carefully, you can feel the fire burning in you once more, the fire that never quite goes away with him.
“I love you so much,” you murmur against his lips and he inhales sharply before kissing you harder, letting go of your hand to bring both hands up to cup your face, holding you in place while he drags his lips against yours.
“Love you too, baby.” he mumbles, kissing you once before pulling back. “Lay back for me. Gonna make you feel how you make me feel.”
“H, you already - oh” you cut yourself off with moan as he sucks a kiss behind your ear, at the spot on your neck that always drives you crazy as he gently pushes you back against the seat.
“Then we can smoke some more, make some sandwiches and take a nap.” he says, lips dragging against your skin. “No rush, yeah? We’ve got time.”
“Yeah,” you say, melting against the seat as his lips find yours once more, his hand sliding down your body until it falls between your thighs, making you gasp against his mouth. “We’ve got - we’ve got time.”
You lay back, eyes drawn to the way the sun reflects off his naked back, the pattern his lips draw against your skin making your eyes flutter shut as he presses his fingers into you. Your mind is still hazy but nothing has been more clear. This is all you want. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him. Till the day you die.
---
a/n: no ones dying btw its the song lyrics just wanted to make that clear. havent been able to finish writing someting in literal months, have requests in my inbox for not this, but here we are. my blog, my rules. not sure anyones still interested in reading this but i wrote it so im posting !
— i wrote this in less than two days, so sorry if it’s incohesive and bad
——
With chopsticks delicately perched between his fingertips, Harry distractedly picked at the steaming bowl of spicy chow mein noodles in his hand. The bright glow of the TV screen was the only illumination in the living room, and his tired eyes were glued to a documentary about snow monkeys. Beyond the curtains was a pitch-black sky. The ocean waves outside were calm. A steady noise came from the humidifier. The ambiance was ideal for a good night's sleep, but your hyperactive mind made it a futile endeavor.
In the dead of night, your cheek found a cozy home on Harry's shoulder—it was sturdy, warm, and the collector of your tears. In the last nine months, when exhaustion and discomfort pounded into your bones, he was the one you leaned on. To quell your frustration, he massaged your swollen feet with heedful precision, shaved your legs when you couldn't see anything below your baby bump, adjusted to your hormonal mood swings with empathy, and cooked your favorite meals when getting out of bed felt like a chore. Above all, he made you feel beautiful each time your body changed. Those changes had come quickly and ruthlessly, and he let it be known that his attraction to you wasn't fading. Not in the slightest.
In fact, it seemingly grew tenfold the moment you told Harry you were pregnant. You had noticed his gaze lingering on your body more often, with an obsessive hunger darkening his irises. Throughout your pregnancy, he paid special attention to the widening shape of your hips, the heaviness of your breasts, and the blooming swell of your stomach. He had documented the overall progression by taking weekly side-view pictures of your bump. He had also written milestones in his journal, like when the baby first kicked and where he had been when he found out the gender.
The obsession went both ways. With your zany hormones, you were more attracted to your husband than ever. It was borderline insane how often you wanted to jump Harry's bones. He gained some sympathy weight and let his hair grow out. He embraced his stubble, which was a weakness of yours since you first started dating him. Most tempting was how he prepared himself for fatherhood—building the crib with his bare hands, deep cleaning the house to show his appreciation, reading parenting books and asking you to quiz him, and simply doting on you when you weren't feeling like the best version yourself. Needless to say, you were insatiable around him, and he gladly entertained your desires with an equal amount of fervency. The flame of romance was never snuffed out.
When the documentary ended, you rubbed your eyes and sighed. Anxiety about knowing the baby could come any minute had made you an insomniac, hence the TV and midnight leftovers session with your husband who was also itching for something to happen. You both were getting a head start on sleep deprivation at least.
At almost forty-one weeks pregnant, your baby girl was taking her sweet time. The obstetrician said you would have to be induced if labor didn't begin in two days. While holed up in the house, waiting for the first sign of labor, you and Harry had tried everything to try to kickstart the process—walking along the beach, eating spicy food like the chow mein Harry cooked tonight, and even desperate rounds of sex every morning since your due date passed. Nothing had worked, causing frustration to build on both ends. The hospital bags were packed and waiting by the front door, and impatience gnawed away at your sanity every time you looked at them.
"Gotta pee," you said, sitting up with a groan. Your lower back ached, one of the reasons why sleeping was so hard.
Harry offered his hand without a second thought, giving you leverage to get off the couch. The motion left you winded. You slowly waddled to the bathroom just down the hall, blindly touching the walls before reaching the light switch. You flicked it on, your eyes squinting against the harsh ceiling light. In the mirror above the sink, you stared at your reflection. Harry's shirt he lent you when your clothes no longer fit was stretched awkwardly over your stomach. You forewent wearing pants around the house because you simply couldn't be bothered. You looked just as miserable as you felt. As much as you were terrified to give birth, you just wanted to get it over with so you didn't have to feel so on edge all the time.
After emptying your bladder, you washed your hands and then stretched your back by resting your forearms on the sink and bending forward. Through the uncomfortable pain, you thought about Harry and how he had politely demanded the baby to come out yesterday, speaking to your bump in a hushed voice like it was a secret conversation between the two of them. Her response was several fluttery kicks to his palm, to which Harry then blew raspberries against the outline of her tiny foot—or maybe fist—to coax her out. It obviously didn't work, but it was fun to watch her move around so actively. It was like she was teasing you both. Not yet, mom and dad. It's warm and cozy in here.
You smiled, feeling a rush of happiness at the memory. Harry was going to be such a wonderful first-time dad. He was devoted, patient, and playful in all the right moments. You had no doubt he would slip into the role perfectly. It was evident in the way he treated you, how he treated his mother, and even how he treated strangers on the street. He had so much love to give. Compassion coursed through his veins.
When you straightened your posture, a weird sensation occurred. You felt an unusual pop, then a trickle of fluid down the insides of your thighs. You stood stock still, your fried brain working extra hard to process the situation, then looked at the floor, seeing a continuous drip of clear fluid pooling on the tiles. You knew what that meant, but you were paralyzed as relief and sheer panic wrestled within your heartstrings. Had you manifested it? Or had time lapped you until you got dizzy? It was impossible to comprehend how the months had gone by at warp speed yet somehow also excruciatingly slow.
"Harry?" you called out apprehensively, resting your head against the wall.
A few seconds passed before he replied, "Yeah?"
You blew out a shaky exhale. "Come here, please."
Silence hung in the air until you heard the creak of the wood floors and the soft padding of his socked feet. You met him halfway in the dark hallway, standing awkwardly while holding your bump. The bathroom light spilled out like a spotlight shining down on you. Surely, he could see "it's time" written all over your face.
"Hi," you whispered, slightly embarrassed about the unusual state you were in. "Um... I'm pretty sure my water just broke."
Harry reached out his hands like you were a timid animal, and he was trying not to spook you. His eyes were wide as they roved over your body, unsure of how to proceed. He eventually stepped closer, then crouched to observe the fluid coating your bare legs.
"Yeah, I think it did," he said hoarsely, his voice quiet with awe. "Must have been those noodles."
A hysteric, breathy laugh bubbled up your throat. "No, I think she's finally ready to meet us."
At those words, Harry's features transformed into barely restrained excitement, deep dimples appearing beside his gorgeous smile. He cradled your bump and spoke against it, saying, "About time, baby girl. We've been going stir crazy out here."
A tear trailed down your cheek, the emotional reality hitting you with full force. This was it. This was the moment your life began to tilt toward a new purpose.
The pleasant thought was short-lived as a twinge of pain sparked in your lower abdomen. You grunted and pressed against the spot with your palm, a grimace tugging at your lips. Your belly tightened, causing you to grip Harry's shoulders for support.
"Oh, it's really happening," he said, standing and rubbing his forehead in shock. "Okay. All right. Should we..."
"Hospital," you mumbled, pinching your eyes shut.
"Right. Good thinking." Harry broke out of his trance and carefully guided you down the hall. He situated you on the couch before stressfully spinning in a circle, figuring out a plan of action. He hurried over to the two big duffel bags by the door and hefted them over his shoulders with ease. He then reached for the bowl where the car keys were, and you watched him open the front door while unlocking the car and pressing the button to open the garage door. After starting the engine and shoving the bags in the trunk, he came back inside.
"It hurts," you said weakly, groaning while hunched over. It was only going to get worse until the nurses gave you an epidural injection. Which was also going to hurt. Hours, maybe even days of physical pain lay ahead, and the prospect made you want to weep.
"I know, sweetheart," Harry said. "Let's put your coat and shoes on, then we can leave."
"Hold on. Just... wait until this contraction passes."
He nodded and sat beside you. "What can I do?" he asked softly, his leg bouncing as he scanned your face.
There was no suppressing your brutal honesty when in the thick of dealing with pain. "Brush your teeth. Your breath smells—ow—like chow mein."
He blinked, then smiled like your complaint completely unaffected him. "Yes, ma'am."
While he obeyed your command, you got up and slid your sandals on. The contraction gradually subsided, but you still felt a heavy pressure near your pelvis. She was wasting no time announcing her arrival.
Harry came back with a sweatshirt and a pair of sneakers on. His hair was tied up, and despite his confident walk toward you, you knew he was nervous based on his fidgety hands and rosy cheeks.
"Let's go," you said, standing by the door.
Harry stared at you with an affectionate gleam in his eyes. "You don't have any pants on, my love."
You glanced down, raising your brows in realization. "Whoops."
He was already on his way to the bedroom, laughing and calling out behind him, "Shorts, leggings, or sweatpants?"
You struggled for an answer since nothing would fit well enough, hence the going shamelessly pants-less at home during the past month. Eventually, you decided, "My beach skirt, please."
He returned seconds later with your long sarong wrap skirt that was made out of soft, breathable fabric. He helped you into it, adjusting the waistband over your bump. It looked ridiculous paired with Harry's casual T-shirt on your upper half, but you were comfortable, and that was what mattered most.
"Can I take a picture of you like this?" Harry asked.
You frowned. "Why?"
"Because you look beautifully disheveled right now, and I want to keep this memory forever."
With a scowl, you reluctantly agreed with a grumbled "Fine."
He took out his phone and captured a couple of candid pictures of you leaning against the wall with your hands cupped under your bump. You had no desire to smile or pose.
After shoving his phone back in his pocket, he exhaled noisily and cupped your cheeks. "Ready to have this baby?"
You stared into his eyes, getting lost in their gentleness. "My body is screaming yes, but my mind says absolutely not."
Harry kissed you, a cool blast of mint gracing your lips. "I'm in your corner, okay? I'll be at your beck and call in that hospital room."
"Can you give birth for me?"
He chuckled, smoothing his thumbs under your eyes—you hadn't realized they were damp. "I would in a heartbeat if that were possible."
“You’ll regret saying that,” you replied dryly. “It’s not going to be a pretty sight.”
“We’ll see.” Another contraction ensued, a little more persistent than the last. Harry noticed and cautiously led you through the threshold. "Time to meet our girl,” he whispered, locking the door behind him.
Stepping into the November night, you inhaled the crisp air into your lungs, embracing the transcendent phase of life on the horizon.
— two lovers being blissfully domestic while living in the countryside of france 🪴
——
LOIRE VALLEY, FRANCE
The melodic humming of his wife faintly echoes throughout the greenhouse kitchen, her voice hidden under the more pronounced noises of glass jars clinking together and the faucet running.
As Harry hunches over the granite countertop and gingerly trims the miniature bonsai tree he proudly grew himself, his ears tune into Nadine's movements. He's acutely aware of the soft padding of her slippers against the tiles and the slight graze of her robe against his sweater vest whenever she passes by. It's as if she's some soundless angel who doesn't like to make her presence known yet can't help but enthrall everyone with her heavenly poise.
He will often glance up while snipping away with his garden shears and follow her figure as she gracefully floats around the kitchen and pickles various vegetables that will eventually be donated to the orphanage on the outskirts of town. The cucumber she's currently slicing is from one of his many gardens on the property. They are Harry's pride and joy. He plants abundant seeds every season, then tends to the soil and sprouts until he can harvest them. Their primary use is to be thrown into either jars or on dinner plates, resulting in whatever his wife wishes to cleverly concoct.
"Nadi, can you please fill this up for me?" Harry asks, fidgeting with the fragile pump of the plant mister in his hand.
In a second, she's by his side, carefully taking the empty glass bottle from his grasp. "Hot or cold water?"
He smiles dotingly at her lack of knowledge about succulent maintenance. She has more expertise relating to culinary uses for fruits, vegetables, herbs, and spices, while he takes care of the botanical aspect.
"Lukewarm since we've had sunny weather lately," he replies as he checks how dry the compacted soil in the pot is. "Thank you."
She nods and heads to the sink, turning the handle to the left. Harry pauses what he's doing and admires how her smooth, bronzed skin and silky black hair glimmer in the natural light pouring through the greenhouse panels. He often finds himself wanting to splay his hands on every part of her warm body and let his ceaseless love seep into her, sweet and absorbent like caramel drizzle on a dessert. Whenever she innately reacts to his touch, it melts him into a puddle of molasses the same color as the deep pools of her irises. And when the sun hits her brown eyes just right, he becomes entranced. She's his saccharine daydream.
Once Harry is satisfied with the trimming of his beloved bonsai, he moves on to the second task he planned to finish this morning. A woven basket sits beside him on the floor, holding a bundle of eucalyptus and myrtle leaves he broke off from the trees in the front yard. He had already cut a piece of gold wire to form the brittle blades around it, but he didn't know where to go from there. He wants to make a leaf crown for Nadine. However, he's never attempted a crown with leaves before, only with the lily of the valley and jasmine flowers he grows by the windowsill in their bedroom. The two white blossoms represent femininity and sensuality, a perfect blend of his wife's soul.
"You are standing so still, lover," Nadine says, setting down the filled plant mister. "What are you doing? What are those leaves for?"
"You ask too many questions," he teases with a prolonged kiss on her forehead.
She frowns halfheartedly. "Laisse-moi entrer dans ton jardin de secrets."
Harry's neck flushes from the way she effortlessly switched languages. "Seulement si tu me laisses entrer dans ton pot de secrets," he murmurs against her temple, jerking his chin toward her glass jars all neat in a row.
"I'm making pickled cucumber and carrot salad for lunch since I have leftover scraps," she says enthusiastically.
Running his fingertips through her hair, he twirls the short strands and says, "I'm making a leaf crown for you."
"Why?"
"Why not? Are you worried it won't be as good as the ones the kids make you at the orphanage?"
Nadine doesn't answer and just stands on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull him down for a slow kiss. Harry exhales blissfully and relaxes in her hold, placing his hands on her waist and moving his mouth against hers. He could kiss her lychee-colored lips for eternity if possible.
When she separates her lips from his with a wet pop, Harry begins swaying her to the mellifluous lullaby from the summer birds and wind chimes outside the greenhouse. He grabs her left hand and interlocks his fingers with hers, his other hand tenderly cupping her cheek. A sunrise dance happens frequently, whether it's in the kitchen, bedroom, or garden. Most of the time, they don't even involve music or the ambiance of nature, simply their hushed voices and synchronized heartbeats filling the space.
"Are you planting anything new today?" Nadine asks quietly.
Harry smears another kiss on her lips. "Just some arugula and parsley."
What she doesn't know is that yesterday while she took a trip down to the valley by herself, he planted her a bed of foxtail lilies in a concealed flower bed behind the tall grape trellises. He precisely calculated when they would bloom into tapered pink and yellow spikes so they could be her birthday surprise when late spring rolled around.
Nadine tilts her head to the side and smiles dreamily. "Can I watch you do it?"
"I'll let you if you smoke with me in the bath later."
She raises her thick eyebrows. "You want to get high before noon?"
"My body will be aching from crouching, and I want to relax before your family visits tomorrow."
"Of course, mon chéri."
Harry hums contently and strokes the pad of his thumb across her plump bottom lip. "Let me finish your crown, and then you can ogle at me in the garden, oui?"
——
"Sacré bleu, Nadi!" Harry shouts dramatically when she walks through the patio door completely nude.
Her curves and soft skin look ravishing under the European sky, and the sunbeams gloriously cast upon every stretch mark and blemish. He notices she's wearing his misshapen leaf crown from where he sits naked in the outdoor bathtub, reading yesterday's newspaper with a lit joint perched between his fingertips. Thankfully, no neighbors can see them in their vulnerable state since the backyard is closed off with a high wooden fence shaded by clustering chestnut and poplar trees.
Nadine gasps and kneels next to the tub, stealing the joint from him and taking a quick hit. She beautifully exhales two rings of smoke before saying, "You started without me."
"Pardonne-moi, ma reine," Harry says lowly as he flings the newspaper onto the grass and grabs her wrist to help her into the warm water. He plucked some red petals off the nearby rose bush to let float on the surface, and also brought out some bars of natural soaps Nadine handmade with excess fruit peels and herbs. She's craftier than him, but he thinks they make a good pair. He grows the plants, and she makes use of them.
Nadine's back meets his bare chest, and every muscle in his body instantly eases with the pure and healing touch of her skin. He spent hours in the sunlit garden planting autumn seeds and sneakily tending to the foxtail lilies, so the tendons in his shoulder blades feel inflamed, and his hands are decorated with new calluses. The dirt under his fingernails had been scrubbed clean while he waited for Nadine, yet there were still scrapes and aching muscles he wanted her to take care of. He's not embarrassed to admit that he likes to be babied by her.
"I brought your razor and shaving cream," Nadine tells him, setting the two objects on the edge of the tub.
Harry's lips downturn with confusion. "For you or for me?"
She turns in his arms to face him, bending her legs crisscross applesauce style. "You, miteux."
"Translation, please."
"Scruffy," she whispers like it's confidential.
A whiny laugh escapes his mouth. "Thought you liked it," he drawls, stroking circles onto her hips.
"Too itchy when you kiss me." She takes another hit before passing the joint over to him.
"Like this?" he asks before leaning forward to rub his cheek against hers and puckering multiple kisses against her skin, making a high-pitched laugh bless his ears.
"Oui, like that!" she expresses through giggles and a wide smile.
He lightly nips her jaw and murmurs, "What do I get in return for letting you shave my face?"
Nadine chews on the inside of her cheek, her dark eyes dancing over his entire body. "I think," she says while placing a wet rose petal on his collarbone, "you know exactly what I'll give you."
Harry swallows, his eyes fluttering shut. "Is that right, my darling?"
"That's right. You need to behave right now, though, or I might nick you."
"What a shame that would be, hmm?" His hands flex on her hips. "Can't go ruining my pretty face."
She cups water in her palms and pours it over the petal on his skin until it delicately falls off. "Your reflection in the bathwater is turning you into Narcissus."
"That's funny, considering your crown makes you look like Echo," he says, tucking a loose eucalyptus leaf under the wire. Are you going to start repeating everything I say?"
"No, but I'm obsessed with you like she was.
Who knew mythology could be so erotic? Harry feels his cock throb and harden as he softly kisses her neck and mumbles, "Such a sweet girl."
Nadine has an amount of self-control beyond comprehension because she suddenly scoots back and picks up the razor and container of shaving cream without another word. She begins applying a layer of the foamy cream on his scruff, spreading it on his neck and Adam's apple.
After inhaling from the joint, Harry blows the smoke toward the afternoon sky and casually rests his arms on the tub's edge as his wife shaves the stubble above his lips. She looks adorable with a concentrated furrow to her eyebrows and her tongue poking out slightly. Her body leans close to him, the curve of her breasts touching his chest and the tip of her nose grazing his own every so often. Her unoccupied hand tilts his chin to the side so she can work on his cheek. The soothing nature of her movements and the warm water engulfing his sore body feel more delightful than the weed that permeates his lungs and senses.
"Don't fall asleep on me, moonflower."
Harry's eyes blink open and blearily focus on her. He didn't realize he nodded off. A lazy smile makes its way onto his face when he sees her eyes rimmed with red from the joint she apparently took for herself while he wasn't paying attention.
"Tu me rends le bon genre de somnolent," he replies with a slur of impeding tiredness.
Nadine washes off the remnants of shaving cream on the right side of his freshly smoothed cheek. "You ramble such nonsense when you're high," she says, quickly finishing shaving the rest of his face.
"Excusez moi. I'm not high… yet."
"You are. Know how I can tell?"
Harry settles his hands on her thighs. "Humor me, sunflower."
"I know because you are hard, and I haven't even done anything yet," Nadine whispers in his ear.
She's not Echo; she's the goddess of love. His Aphrodite, ironically surrounded by rose petals and wearing a crown adorned with myrtle leaves, sets the razor in a safe place under the tub and then straddles his thighs. She knows exactly how to make him weak putty in her hands.
Extinguishing the lit end of the joint in the water, Harry flips his palms up in invitation and says, "Do your worst, dove."
——
The euphoric high reaches Harry's fingertips as he touches the blades of grass he lies on. To the touch, they feel as soft as a cloud. To the eye, they are feathery and verdant.
The blue and white striped shirt he put on after the bath warps due to his spinning mind, the lines bending and blurring until they make his eyes cross. He and Nadine went through three joints each. Maybe four. Either way, the aftermath of sex while high and then proceeding to get higher has Harry feeling like he's levitating outside of his body.
Although he can't complain when Nadine lies beside him, laughing infectiously over something he doesn't remember saying mere seconds ago.
"What did I do?" he asks, his speech slower and more drawled from the weed that passed his tongue.
"You were going on about" — she pauses for a moment to regain her breath — "about your dream that you had last night."
"Oh." He rubs his eyes and begins giggling over whatever is making her so happy. "Where did I… what part did I leave off at?"
"The part where, apparently, our thirty nonexistent children were blooming in the garden, and they were all wailing so much, but the only way to get them to stop was to water them."
"Shit, that's right. What a bizarre dream."
Nadine reaches over and pinches his stomach. "Could you imagine having to take care of thirty children? Oh, mon dieu!"
"We could do it," he says with faux confidence. "Babies are sort of like plants, right?"
She snorts and replies, "I would rethink that statement."
He's thinking ahead and can't stop the thought from crawling across the crevices of his brain like scandent stems. "One day, we'll have little snap peas running around the garden," he muses, the words sounding far away when he speaks them.
"Snap peas, like… bébés?" Nadine asks for clarity.
Harry looks over at her, his heart melting like candle wax at the innocence that laces her question. "Oui. Tant de bébés."
"Where is my say in this?" she asks with a prod to his sock-covered foot.
He smirks, rubbing his eyes again. "You have all the say in the world, dove. Just tell me when, and I'll drop everything for you."
"When what?"
"When you're ready for bébés."
He sees it. He wants it. He needs it. He feels a deep yearning for the possibility of them having Nadine's eyes of maple syrup and heart of sweet honey. If they'll laugh in three caught breaths like her and have her lustrous hair, or if they'll cackle obnoxiously like him and inherit his wild curls. He'd like either outcome. He'd like it a lot.
"I think I will be ready in the spring," Nadine says. "I do not want to be pregnant in the winter."
"How come?" Harry murmurs, dizzily rolling over and nuzzling his face into the velvety skin of her stomach, which is exposed below her cropped tank top.
"I don't thrive in the cold, so it would be a living nightmare for me," she says, tilting his face upwards. "And I wouldn't be able to show off my baby bump if it was cold all the time."
"Nadi baby," he says while letting her poke his dimples, "do you realize that if you get pregnant in the spring, you'll be ready to pop during wintertime?"
"I can't do math when I'm high. Too many months." She uses her strength to switch positions and lay on top of him, squishing his cheeks, her favorite thing to do. "But you have to promise me a bébé in the spring."
He hooks his right pinky with hers and says, "The foxtail lilies should be in full bloom by then. They'll be our good luck charm."
He didn't mean to say that out loud, and now he just utterly ruined the surprise. Damn those three or four joints.
"Hmm? Foxtail?" Nadine bemuses, tracing the slope of his nose with her pointer finger.
Sighing to himself, he knows there's no faultless way to dig himself out of the hole he created. "For you," Harry says shyly. "I planted a bed of foxtail lilies for you that will hopefully bloom in time for your birthday."
She goes silent, spreading her hand on his cheek and parting her lips. Harry wishes he could have kept the details of his romantic gesture locked away in his conscious mind, but the way she's looking at him right now makes the mistake worth it.
"My heart," she whispers sweetly, pressing a long and tender kiss to his lips. "My love. You did that for me?"
"It was supposed to be a surprise," he says with cheeks the color of the peonies by the patio.
"Hey, listen. Don't fret about it, all right?"
"Okay. Oui."
Nadine rests her head on his chest. "Oui."
"Oui oui oui," he repeats with a ticklish breath in her ear during each staccato syllable.
"T'es chiant," she grumbles, pushing his face away.
Harry cradles the back of her head, resting his chin on top of it and soaking in her presence she so graciously allows him to cherish. What a wonder to be able to hold a daydream in his arms.
Idyllic paintings could be inspired by her ethereal face and figure, especially when accented by her smile in the sunshine. She could be sculpted and hidden at the back of the most grandiose museum, yet Harry would always find her under the spotlight. She bears fruits of devotion that are seductive and sweet between his teeth, seeds from pomegranates and nectarines coated in aphrodisiacs.
His goddess of pure love is soon to be surrounded by a bountiful bed of foxtails, and if the spring season is kind to him, little snap peas will grow alongside it.
Lucia looks around the kitchen confused. Her tired eyes narrow in on one spot of the counter, but when she finds it empty, she whirls around to look at Harry sadly. He’s directly behind her, leaning against the opposite counter, raising his eyebrows in question.
“You didn’t make my coffee?” she asks quietly.
Harry, who is holding his own cup, says, “Have some water first.”
“So you did make it.”
“Have some water first.”
“And then you’ll make it afterwards?”
Lucía ignores this and instead flies over to the fridge, She opens it, sticking her head in to peer quickly. To his dismay, her coffee is still not waiting for her, and when she shuts the door, Harry has remained by the counter, eyebrows still raised, but now with a soft smile on his lips.
“You didn't make it at all,” Lucía accuses.
Harry shrugs. “Maybe you’ll find out after you’ve had a glass of water. I can’t remember the last time I saw you drink some other than coffee, tea, and lemonade."
“You watch me way too closely.”
The smile widens. “I am entirely guilty of that, yes.”
Lucía feels her eyes on him as she looks through all the cabinets, the sink, the microwave, and even the dishwasher. It's way too early to be moving this much, but she has incentive!
She goes to leave the kitchen, but Harry stops her with a quick grab of a single curl from the back of her head. "Ow!"
"Stay here."
Harry finally pushes off the counter, setting his coffee down with a meaningful look, and then heads to the cabinet with all the glasses. He picks out the largest glass and then pours water (nearly to the brim!) from the filtered jug. Harry starts to walk it over to her, but stops himself when she gives him a frown. He doesn’t set it aside though.
Instead, he puts a straw in it and offers it to her. “See, now it’s fun,” Harry says, eyes twinkling.
“Fun,” Lucía deadpans.
“Mhm. Go on. And then you get your coffee.”
“Which you still have to make.”
She takes the glass and with his now free hand, Harry twirls a strand of her curly hair around his fingers. “Do I, Luce?”
“Unless you’ve hid it in a very good spot,” Lucía says.
"Drink."
Harry watches as she finishes all the water. Half way through, she discards the straw, realizing she’ll finish it quicker with large gulps instead. Once she’s done, she wipes her mouth, presses the glass back into Harry’s hands, and looks at him.
Just before he walks away with the glass, he absently wipes his thumb over the corner of her mouth to catch some residue, and then he murmurs, “Good. Thank you, baby.”
The coffee is hidden inside the air fryer directly in front of her. The cup sits there unbothered, slotted perfectly without any liquid needing to be jostled about. Harry removes the cup and presents it to her, grinning. Before she takes it, Harry removes it from her reach, holding it above his head making it impossible for her to grab.
She frowns deeply at him, crossing her arms in disapproval to show that she will not be jumping to grab it out of his hand. Harry takes a noisy sip from his own coffee.
Then, he leans down. “Give me a kiss.”
“No.”
He grins. “No?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He brings her coffee down to level and takes a sip.
Lucía grows annoyed. Harry’s sips are equivalent to a normal person’s chug. “Stop! You don’t even like my coffee.”
Sure enough, Harry’s face is contorted with dislike. “It’s so strong.”
“Give it back.”
“Give me a kiss.”
“Give it to me first.”
"No."
"I demand you give it to me."
Harry takes another sip in response, shrugging. Again, another wince. He is committed though.
Beyond irritated, Lucía walks to him, places her hands on his stomach and leans up to kiss him. She feels his triumphant smile in their kiss, his warm lips taking hers as perfect as always. Though his hands are full, he loops his arm around her waist and pulls her close, bringing her along with him as he leans his back on the counter. After his shower, he’s left his hair loose, so the damp curls tickle the sides of her face, and his eyelashes (too long for a regular human) brush her cheeks.
When he pulls away, he looks satisfied. “Thank you,” he repeats, bringing her coffee to her. "Was that so hard? You'd think it's a chore to kiss your own boyfriend good morning."
She takes it before he can change his mind. Instead of holding onto her annoyance, she turns around and slots herself between his arms, leaning against his strong frame as she takes a sip and melts into him. Harry’s arms are immediately around her, his chin on her shoulder.
“I cannot believe you would think I made my own coffee but not yours,” he murmurs, turning his head to kiss her cheek. The singular one doesn’t seem to be enough, and soon he descends into a pattern, repeatedly kissing her cheek and jaw, all ranging in intensity and force.
“I didn’t really believe it.” Lucía tilts her head the other way to bare her neck so that he can continue down. Though it tickles, she steels her nerves and continues to drink her coffee. After a few kisses to her now naked shoulder, her shirt neckline pulled down, she giggles.
“I love you,” Harry murmurs, lips behind her ear. Then he squeezes her so tight to his chest, she whines, trying to elbow him off. He does not relent. “My baby. Would you stop trying to get away from me?"
