An emotional Harry after breaking the record amount of nights at Wembley Stadium Together, Together Tour - Wembley Night 11 - July 3, 2026 (via shelbs0o)
“Never mind,” she held Muffy a little closer, “It seems like it’s been hard for you, though. Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head, a soft little noise in his throat, “Just keep being you, that’s all I need,” he said, in a voice so incredibly gentle she almost wanted to turn into a puddle, “You have no idea how nice it has been to come home to you, y’know? Usually, I’m dealing with all this bullshit and go back to an empty place, but it’s just – so good,” he turned to face her, lying his cheek against his palm, “To come back here, and it’s just cozy and sweet, it smells good, and you and Muffy are always here so cute. It settles something inside me.”
Y/N smiled, feeling like she could buzz out of her skin, “Really?”
“Yeah,” he told her, then reached out, and for the first time awake, he’d scooted across the mattress preemptively, looping an arm over her waist and wiggling his legs between hers, “It’s nice.”
or
Y/N just wants to be engulfed by Harry, if that's possible
[WARNING: there is VIOLENCE, a little stalking, and kidnapping in this part of the fic!! If that is something you are uncomfortable with, then this is NOT. the fic to read!!]
part 1
part 2
part 3
(18k+ words)
iv.
“Hey, who is ‘Daddy’?”
Y/N thinks she should probably crawl under a rock.
Her dynamic with Harry was different now, after that run-in at the park. It had shifted and morphed into something else, beyond whatever weird friendship that they’d crafted out of necessity and proximity. They weren’t vocal about it, by any means; both had just accepted it and continued as they normally would. Like, what was she going to say? Hey Harry, I feel like we’re close enough now that I sort of want to fuck you all the time, but I don’t know if it’s because you protected me and take care of me, or if it’s something else? That would probably be the healthier form of communication, which means Y/N would not be able to go through with that. She preaches it, but she doesn’t always practice it – Niall and Aki haven’t noticed that yet, so they can’t call her a hypocrite when she waxes poetic about how they should be open with their feelings.
And, seriously, she’s more open with her feelings with Harry than she’s probably been with any other man in her life (save for Ni). This is just something outside the range of being open about. There’s a difference between telling Harry that that entire night was scary, and she appreciated that he’d been understanding with her even though she went against what he said, and how he made her feel safe, and then there was telling him that she’s been wanting to ride him until her thighs burn and she gets a cramp in her calves. One of those is innocent and sweet, and there’s no room for rejection, and one of those Harry could politely decline and then stop sharing a bed with her, and honestly, she isn’t ready to give that up yet.
She thought it would only be that first night. After the initial scare, she figured that one night with him directly at her side would make her feel safe, and then she could work on getting over the encounter the subsequent nights. However, the following day, when the sun lowered in the sky and black started inking over the sunset hues of oranges and pinks, Y/N felt a pit of anxiety well up in her stomach. It must have shown all over her face, because Harry clocked it instantly as he collected the plates off the coffee table from dinner. “What’s wrong, Bunny? Was something not good?”
“No, that’s not it,” she shook her head, scratched worriedly at her arm, and tried desperately not to nibble at her nails, still fresh and pretty from her manicure, “I’m just. . .um. . .would it be weird if we shared a bed again? Like, just for tonight?” She wriggled in her spot, dodging eye contact at all costs so that when he refused, he wouldn’t see something stupid on her face, like a frown or tears. “I’m just sort of – y’know – about it still.”
Harry was quiet for a second, and at the time, Y/N convinced herself it was because he was trying to figure out an easy way to let her down. What he’d really been doing was carefully setting the plates back on the coffee table and stepping closer to her, leaning over to wrap his arms around her body. Y/N squeaked, because she isn’t sure Harry realizes how tight he hugs or not – his arms feel huge around her though, and he squeezed like he might be trying to crush her lungs from the outside. Honestly, given how strong he is, she didn't doubt he’d be able to if he wanted to.
But even with all the strength in the hug, it’s immediately softened by his sweet tone, “Of course I will,” he replied, “I’ll sleep in there every night until you’re absolutely sick of me, yeah? Anything to make you feel better.”
Y/N let herself melt into him when her arms looped around his body. She decided to pretend that this wasn’t because she was sort of a charity case, but because he was secretly hoping that she’d ask him to spend another night in her bed. That made her smile to herself, a little – she’d always been prone to delusional thoughts to get her through things. If she imagined that Harry was just obsessed with her and not that he felt bad for her, then this was actually pretty sweet.
She could never claim to be touch-starved. Niall and Aki had actually made it their personal mission to be touching a part of her at all times, at any given moment, and vice versa. They were just a very touchy-feely, ‘all up in your business’ kind of friend group. But Y/N hadn’t shared a bed with someone like this in a while. Niall is a horrific bed and blanket hog, so she’s just shivering on the edge of the bed if they’re forced to share. And Aki gets too hot to cuddle or anything, so Y/N is still freezing, but at least she has plenty of blankets because Aki kicks them all off.
With Harry, though, it’s really nice. Like all things, he was a perfect fit for her and her bed. He took up the perfect amount of space, he moved the right amount, he shared an appropriate amount of blanket, and he was always the appropriate temperature. They would fall asleep shoulder to shoulder, mostly, sometimes back to back, and it would feel warm and comforting to have his spine pressed against hers. No matter what position they’d fall asleep in, they managed to meet in the middle somewhere.
Y/N was always waking up in the middle of the night, sometimes several times – it’s something that had always happened to her, even when she was little. With Harry in her bed, it still happened, but far less, and that itch beneath her skin and under her bones to get out of bed and do something has all but disappeared. The first time she woke up when she was sharing a bed with Harry, she’d found his arm slung around her waist, her back pressed to his chest, and their legs all tangled up with each other. She was just awake enough to register that they were cuddling, but not conscious enough to panic about it. When she’d woken up the following morning, alone in bed, she’d wondered briefly if she had dreamt the entire thing.
But then the next night, she woke up in a similar but different position. This time, she was the one wrapped around Harry, his head all but buried against her chest, and her arms cradling him to her body. She had a leg stretched across his hips too, like – it was a very intimate position for the second night sleeping together. That night, she did wake up just enough to panic a little over it and was able to successfully wiggle her arms from around him. Not because she was uncomfortable, but because she didn’t want him to feel suffocated by her presence. Especially when she was the one who propositioned them to sleep together – even she could look past her deluded thoughts to recognize that this might be too much.
However, when she tried to pull her leg away, there was a soft, sleepy whimper and a hand gripping her thigh tightly before she could move it. Y/N struggled not to make a startled sound in her throat. She wasn’t nearly awake enough to stay awake – her head felt heavy and melty against the pillow, and that, coupled with the warmth of his hand on her thigh – well, she fell back asleep pretty quickly. Though once again, when she woke up, she was alone in bed.
(Harry was an early riser, even though he was late to fall asleep. It’s on the weekends that she saw how intense a napper he was; sure, he’d be awake before her, but he was passed out on the couch after lunch, and K.O’d for a couple of hours at least. Y/N tiptoes around the flat when he’s napping because he’ll wake up at the sound of a glass being set on the counter.)
She’d suspect that she’d been hallucinating the whole thing if not for how often it happened. Six nights in a row, she’s woken up tangled in Harry’s limbs and snuggled pressed against his body. Maybe Harry was the touch-starved one? She hadn’t considered that. Though she couldn’t be absolved of all the initiation to cuddling, she surely wasn’t tugging his arm across her body, or snaking his bicep beneath her head. She might have been the one to roll over and rest her cheek against his chest, but he was the one who had his other hand stretched across his torso to rest on her forearm. When’s the last time he shared a bed with someone? Maybe he was the needy, clingy one in their sleep, but neither of them was awake to know it.
Nevertheless, neither of them brings it up. It seemed silly to; a fat lot of good it would do, because it isn’t like they could stop it – they were asleep. Or, well, they could stop it, but that would mean Harry not sharing the bed with her anymore, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t necessarily want the cuddling to stop either, actually. So the only route to take was for Y/N not to bring it up. What if Harry didn’t even know about it? What if, by the time he woke up, they had already found themselves on the opposite sides of the bed again? And then Y/N would bring it up to him, he’d probably suggest that he leave her bed so that they could put an end to it. And, yeah. . .Y/N is just not super chill with that happening.
She likes it, sue her. It’s not even like she could tell anyone about it, either. She’d finally had to come clean about him staying with her to Niall and Aki, who all but exploded with the information handed to them. Of course, she doesn’t give them the real reason that he’s staying. They think that he needed a place to shower and sleep because his flat had a crazy plumbing issue, and the unit above his had a pipe that burst and flooded his living room and bedroom. So they’d be working on it for a while, and in the meantime, Y/N had politely offered her building because it was close to his job.
It was a dodgy lie at best, and again, she’s not the best at lying, so she had to tell them via message. It was starting to get suspicious that Harry was taking her to work every single day, on top of her telling them that the ‘girlie pop sleepover’ couldn’t happen at her place this month. She had to come clean, at least a little bit, and when she did, the thread was filled with all caps, exclamation points, and stupid, meme-ified emojis. Niall was flabbergasted. Aki inquired if she’d gotten in his pants yet, and both wondered if he would really mind them spending the night since they’d initiated him into their circle at the club. He passed all of their checks and balances for what makes an appropriate fourth to occasionally interweave in their group.
Y/N told them she’d ask if he minded, because it really didn’t hurt to. And she meant to ask a while ago, really, but she’d completely forgotten. Not until Niall was blowing up her phone while she had it face up on the counter, spooning her seconds of the stew he’d made into a bowl. Y/N had been playing music through the speaker hooked to her phone. She told him to skip the song that came on for her while she was serving herself. Not thinking, of course, that Niall has zero filtered, even knowing that Harry could be looking over her shoulder at any moment.
“Hey, who is Daddy?” He’d asked it so innocently that Y/N had almost confused herself trying to figure out what he meant, until he explained it, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be nosy or anything. It just sort of stuck out on your lock screen.”
It was then, with sudden and horrific realization, that he was talking about Niall, who was probably calling him Daddy on the phone. Harry, who was standing beside her, carefully plucked the ladle from the pot so he could get more too. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and the soft whisper of ‘oh my god’ made it out of her mouth before she could stifle it. When she looked over at him, his brows were pinched inward, like he was concerned and maybe a little irritated.
Oh god. . .oh god, Niall pissed him off? Was he really mad about the nickname? Y/N never wanted him to know that’s what they called him, but she’d always thought if he accidentally found out, he’d just chuckle and move on. But what if he was legitimately pissed? Shit, this is so bad, it’s – “Oh, uh, Niall’s just. . .you know. Being Niall.”
Harry’s head tilted, the irritation not leaving his face, “Hn,” he murmured, “So, in reference to ‘Y/N, did Daddy say we could come over’. . .Daddy is. . .”
God, of course, he wasn’t going to let her get away with not sharing! He may not have been trying to be nosy, but Harry – at the end of the day – is nosy as hell! So is she, so she couldn’t even blame him, but shit. Couldn’t he have just let her move on from that? Did he really need to know what some offhanded nickname was? Also, if she were smarter, then she wouldn’t have stalled with that last statement and made something up about how Niall’s talking about this guy that he met recently or something. He surely wouldn’t believe her now that she’s dragged it out this long. Plus, all it would take is scrolling through her messages once before realizing that the ‘Daddy’ mentioned is often mentioned in relation to her.
She was going to have to just come clean. It was easier than trying to keep some rouse up, especially with someone who seems like they have an innate ability to sense a liar. Not that she’d ever seen him utilize these moves before – she just knew that her stomach and chest felt squidgy and guilt-ridden anytime she even considered a lie to him. This did not bode well for keeping up a good lie – he’d be able to see right through her.
“Ah, well, that’s kind of his nickname for you,” she admitted, feeling hot in the face, wishing she could blame it on the steam from the stew, but both of them would know and realize what it was actually from, “He’s never been great at doing non-vulgar nicknames.”
Harry stared at her for a second before his smile broke out into a grin, and he started to chuckle like that couldn’t be funnier. Something lifts from his gaze – Y/N was unsure what exactly had been there in the first place, but it was much darker than it had been at the beginning of the night. Had he been irritated with the thought of someone else being referred to as Daddy in their chat? Especially when she was being sort of suspicious about it. Honestly, maybe she was making things up, but he seemed sort of relieved, actually? Like him being ‘Daddy’ was the best outcome.
“Wow, really?” His dimples were dotting either side of his big grin, “Now why is Niall referring to me as Daddy?”
Because we talked in detail about your BDSM history and potentially all of the things that you could be into, including – but not limited to – a daddy kink.
“Ah, is there ever really an answer for the inner workings of Niall’s brain?” She answered instead, “He’s just wanting to come over for a sleepover, is all. Aki, Niall, and I do one every month at one of our flats, but I told them you were staying with me, so it might not be best to have it here.”
Harry pouted his bottom lip, “No, you can have it here!” He assured her, “I don’t want you to change how you live just because I’m around. Could I set up shop in your bedroom or something? I could even leave if you wanted, and like – hang in my car or something.” He motioned around them, “I’ll make my presence as brief as possible, yeah? That way, it’d just be like a regular night for you, yeah?”
Y/N raised her brows, “Really? Wouldn’t that be annoying for you, though?”
“Not at all,” he told her, “Besides, I like seeing you with them. You’re so pretty when you’re having fun.”
Y/N’s face feels warm from the compliment, but she looks away to her phone before he can say anything about how shy she gets when he says things like that. She pulled up her message thread with the two of them and cleared her throat, “Okay, well, then I’ll tell them, sure,” she feels like the hair on the nape of her neck is raised, because Harry is actually way too close to her right now while she’s got their thread open. Honestly, his knowing that Niall called him Daddy was probably the least ridiculous thing he could find in here. Y/N didn’t even want to think about Harry figuring out what the omegaverse was.
“They usually get here around dinner time,” Y/N tells him while her thumbs move across the screen, “Um, we order in and then do stereotypically cute sleepover things. Nails, sometimes we practice make-up on each other, face masks at the end of the night, watch movies, and talk over them – things like that.”
Harry smiles, “That sounds great. Let me pick the food up for you guys.”
“Oh, Harry, you really don’t have to –”
“Delivery fees are killer, especially on a Friday night!” He reasons, “Just let me, yeah? It’s the least I can do.”
Her brows crinkle, “Why are you saying that like you owe me something?”
“I do! Did you forget the whole park incident or. . .”
“No, of course I didn’t, but you’ve already made up for that. Like, you’ve been sleeping in my bed for a while, I feel like that’s more than enough.” Muffy toddles from wherever she’d been hiding, bonking her head into Y/N’s calf before looping around her legs.
“Is it really paying you back if I’m benefiting from it?” He inquires, a soft, teasing gleam, and Y/N’s eyes go wide, “Anyway, I’m not taking no for an answer, so you’ll just have to deal with it, ‘kay? Gotta pull my weight somehow.”
Y/N does eventually give up, because sometimes that’s just easier. Harry is very headstrong, and it’s never about things she’s uncomfortable with. Honestly, everything he offers and enforces just makes her life easier and better in the end. So she relents – the food would be warmer if Harry were the one picking it up anyway.
“Oh, and I’ll get you guys some cute matching things while I’m out,” he adds, “You know what. . .you’re going to need ice cream and stuff too, aren’t you?”
“Wait, Harry –”
“Hold on, I’m making a list.”
. . .
Niall and Aki turn up around 5 PM, already dressed in pajamas with their overnight bags slung on their shoulders. Aki has a stuffed bear that she has to sleep with her cheek pressed up against since she was little (for as old as it was, it was well taken care off, and didn’t look incredibly worn or carry the scent that old things seem to carry), and Niall carries one of his many board games (that they no doubt would be arguing over in the next couple of hours). There’s a kaboodle in the mix, too, for the makeup they’ll try on each other. Y/N barely has time to step to the side to let them in before they’re pushing past one another through the door.
They drop all of their things in the living room, where Y/N had carefully constructed a massive pallet on the floor for them to sleep on. There were a ton of blankets making the base, and a ton of additional blankets bunched and crumbled up around the edges so that they could pull them up when they got chilly. She had a dozen pillows too, because she always has a thousand pillows (with enough left over for Harry to have four to sleep with in her room), and stuffed animals that she’d gathered and collected through the years. Harry had watched her create it, praising her pallet-making skills, saying something like, “Maybe I should’ve had you make me a pallet instead of sleeping in bed together.” She clicked her tongue and told him to shut up.
This is why they always have it at her place, because Y/N has all of the fodder for the perfect sleepover vibe. Down to the lighting that she’ll hang up, the LED strips that light the back of her telly, and her candle selection is amazing, she would be the first to say. So the room is warm, cozy, and pink, and Y/N thinks this might be her best work yet.
“God, I love when you make us an omega nest.” Aki drops her things at the edge of the pallet before lowering to her knees and flopping face-first into the pillows, “These are new scent beads you’re using.”
“She started using my brand,” Harry’s voice chimes in, his keys in hand, “Isn’t it nice? It’s so fruity.”
Niall gasps, “Harry, are you going to let us put makeup on you? Aki can do a killer makeover.”
“It’s true.” Aki muffles into the pillow, twisting to look back at them, “I probably should be doing makeup for weddings and charging them thousands of dollars, but my calling is music marketing for whatever reason.”
Harry grins, “Ah, as fun as that sounds, I’ll just be working in Y/N’s room tonight.” He points toward the door, “But I’m going to pick up dinner before that! I need to stop at the store before that, so just message me what you guys want to eat.”
“Oh, what?” Niall seems surprised, “Harry, you really don’t have to –”
“He doesn’t listen to reason,” Y/N cuts in, also lowering down into the pallet, less theatrically than Aki, but she does huff out a breath when her head hits one of the pillows outlining the edge of the. . .nest, as described by Niall, “I tried to tell him he didn’t need to, but he insists.”
Harry nods, “Yes, I absolutely insist. She’s helping me out by letting me stay here with the plumbing issue and all that, so it’s the least I can do.”
In this situation, Y/N couldn’t necessarily fight him without exposing everything in front of Aki and Niall, so she keeps her mouth shut. Harry left with a wave and the soft click of the door, and both Aki and Niall turned to her with wild eyes.
“Have you fucked yet?”
“What? No!” Y/N shakes her head, not entirely surprised that this is Niall’s follow-up question as soon as Harry steps out of the door, “Of course not, it isn’t like that.”
Aki snorts, “I mean, he definitely wants to,” she pointed her thumb toward the door. “Did you see how he was looking at you? Those are ‘fuck-me’ eyes.”
Y/N rolled her own, “No, they aren’t, stop it,” she shakes her head again, “You two are hellbent on me being just as delusional as you! You’re trying to set me up for heartbreak.”
“But your heart is in a place to get broken?” Niall presses, finally dropping onto the pallet and leaning his weight onto his right hand, arm outstretched. Muffy crawls into his lap cautiously, balancing on his thighs.
Scowling, Y/N reaches for her phone so she doesn’t have to look them in the eyes, “It’s complicated,” she tells them, and she wishes she could explain just why it was so complicated. This wasn’t just some random meet-cute where she reconnected with a university crush years later. The first time Harry met her, it was with a knife to her throat. He spent the first few weeks of their interaction lowkey stalking her to make sure she didn’t say anything, and, weird enough, stuff keeps happening; he feels obligated to stick around her to keep her safe. They get along well, their chemistry is good, but at the end of the day, he isn’t here because he chooses to be. It’s not because Y/N is so amazing that he has permanently made himself a spot in her life.
Y/N likes him, yeah. She has a crush on him. It would be difficult not to develop some sort of feelings when they were around each other all of the time, and when he made her feel safe and protected. Plus, there’s the issue of his generally very flirty personality that starts putting brain worms in her head, making her think that there was something there between them. And how could you not have further developing feelings when that same person who makes you feel safe, holds you at night like you’re something very precious to them. Cooks for you, takes you out, spends an insane amount of time with you, and doesn’t even seem burnt out by it.
She stood no chance, really. And then there was the whole fact that his job was dangerous and scary, and that he had killed people before. Was she really okay with that? He says they were bad people, and she trusts Harry, sure, but. . .well, she doesn’t know. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Especially when that very same Harry, up until recently, she couldn’t imagine doing more than a threat or two. Even after experiencing him the first night they met, he’d done a good job at washing away any semblance of the person she first stuttered a plea to let her go.
God, but he’s so fucking honest, too. Like he has absolutely nothing to hide from her. She thinks she could ask him to show her proof and evidence of every single person he’s ever had a case on, and he would pull up the documents if they were available to prove himself.
“Complicated or not,” Aki began, taking Y/N’s phone and clicking on the Italian place she’s been pressing for them to try, “You get all gooey and sweet when you’re with him. Just try it out, baby, or Niall might.”
“I’m bros before hoes, but if it makes you act faster, then I’ll start flirting.” He nudges her leg with his toe, “I can see you’re getting all shy about it, so we don’t have to keep going. Or – actually, one more question – his dick size? Do we know it yet?”
The rest of the night goes by with little fuss. It’s fun – Harry comes back with the food that they wanted and grocery bags full of things: fancy wine, extra blankets, matching sleep masks, bags of crisps, toys for Muffy. He also has a box of baked goods from a very pricy bakery near the Italian place he picked up their food from.
“Sorry,” he laughed, “I – uh – got a little excited. I think this is a really cute idea, and I reckon I should convince my friends to start doing something like this.”
All of them had wide eyes, staring at the bags. “Holy shit,” Aki gasps, “What is your Venmo?”
Harry does eat dinner with them, sits on the pallet with the lap trays Y/N has for eating since her coffee table – for the most part – she usually has shoved away from in front of her sofa so that she could have more space. But after, he packs up, tells them to have fun and not to worry about noise or anything, that he’s usually listening to music while he works anyway. When he shuts himself away, Aki lowers her voice, just above a whisper, “Y/N,” she said, very seriously, “You need to lock him down now, baby, because if someone else snatches him we’ll have to kill them to take him back, and neither of us wants to do that.”
Their night continues as they always do. They talk about pop culture, Niall’s recent conquests, Aki’s recent conquests (Aki is keen on situationships and they’re always a little messy – most recently she found out the woman she’d been sleeping with was married with children), new make up that’s come out, current trends that they think are awful, this show that Niall is heavily invested in and has been trying to get Y/N and Aki to watch for months at this point. Just fun things, cute sleepover things – make Pinterest boards with concert outfit ideas and watch music videos on her telly. Drinking wine, getting a little tipsy, Niall and Aki convincing Y/N to figure out what Harry’s dick size is.
That last bit was. . .well. . .
“I cannotttt, do that,” she tells them, but she’s giggling, because whatever wine Harry got them was some fancy brand that she thinks has more alcohol per serving than a normal one. Y/N wasn’t feeling dizzy or anything bad, but she was existing in a fun, giggly, little hazy bubble. If she drank one more glass, then she’d probably be drunk, but instead, she was eating one of the croissants that he had brought home. She had crumbs on her mouth and all over her hands, but she was leaning over the nest so she didn’t dirty it (her floors, however, were a different story), “He would – he would totally not answer.”
“A non-answer means below 5,” Niall informs her, tipping his glass back to get the last swig, “I think he’ll answer, though, he gives that honest vibe. Even if he’s small, which I know he isn’t.”
Aki rests her chin in her hands, snuggled around her bear, “Aren’t you curious? I’m curious. He walks like it’s heavy.”
“Tell him it was a dare!” Niall says, voice quiet so that – if Harry was listening in – he wouldn’t hear.
And, like, Y/N is pretty curious. She couldn’t help but wonder how big he was, like – isn’t she allowed to wonder things? They’re right, he is pretty honest, and he does walk like it’s massive. It would satiate some of her curiosity, like. . .y’know, if she’d be able to take him comfortably or not. Not like that would happen, for any reason! Just in case one day she wanted to get a dildo his exact size and figure it out. If she’d even have time to do that – Harry spends a lot of time here, and even when he leaves, she doesn’t necessarily feel like she has enough time to get herself off, so she hasn’t in a while.
Y/N chooses to blame it on a combination of curiosity, Niall and Aki’s goading, and this pervading level of horniness that seems to strike every time she has had a drink or two. She does scramble up after she swipes her hands on her legs and her face on the inside of her shirt to rid herself of any crumbs. Y/N doesn’t stumble, but she does have to steady and steel herself for a minute, turning back to look at her friends one more time before pressing forward to her room.
She does have the courtesy to knock on the door, but when he doesn’t answer, she remembers he said his headphones would be on. So she pops it open and peeks through to find Harry, sitting at her desk with his computer and everything out, headphones tucked around his ears. He seems to be doing his actual, normal job if the spreadsheets were anything to go by. And he must sense a secondary presence in the room, because he twists in the chair to face her, a soft smile twitching over his lips when he pulls the headphones down around his neck.
“Hey, is everything okay? Were you grabbing something?”
“Oh, um, yes,” she answers at first, but then shakes her head, “I mean – I’m grabbing information.”
Harry chuckled a bit, “Information, yeah? What information?”
She steps forward and shuts the door just barely enough that it isn’t open all the way, but Muffy would be able to butt her head against it and get inside. “This is a dare, by the way.”
He seemed more pleased by this, leaning back in the chair a little with his hands resting over his tummy, “Oooh, okay, I love a game of truth or dare, no matter how old I get. Hit me with your question, I’m ready!”
Y/N swallows thickly, because he may be ready, but she definitely isn’t. She’d made it this far, though, even though her liquid courage seemed to run out right when it was most imperative. “Ah, well. . .I was just wondering how big your. . .well, how big you are?”
He blinks rapidly for a second, like the questions registering in his brain, “How big I am?” Y/N nods, her face feeling hot, like you could crack an egg and cook it right on her face, “Like. . .like, my. . .” he trails off, then looks at his crotch, the loose shorts he was wearing, that would be looser if his thighs weren’t so big and strong (and in desperate need of biting, from her mouth, actually), “That?”
“Uh, yes, that,” she agrees, “If that’s okay for me to know. And then relay.”
Harry laughs a little, breathless and a little stunned, it seems like. Which is fair – they really don’t talk about things like that together. Ever since Y/N had embarrassingly cried after asking about his BDSM experience, and then he later on explained it to her via text – they’d actually pretended like that never happened. Or, at least verbally – Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it most of the time.
“Sure, I don’t mind if you know, or if you tell,” he shrugs, “I haven’t measured myself in a while, but I don’t think it’s something that changes over time necessarily?” Y/N also shrugs, because she does not know, actually, but she’s holding her breath waiting for his reply, “So, I’m around 8ish inches? I think, give or take a couple of centimeters.”
Her eyes went wide, mouth falling open, “Ah, wow,” was all she could muster to say, “That’s – you’re huge.”
He has the nerve to get all pink, “Mm, yeah? I guess it is quite big,” the blush spreads from his face, down toward his neck, “Is that. . .a good enough response?”
She swallows hard again, nods again, “Yep!” Because words escape her at the best of times, and especially in moments like these, where she’s certain all the blood in her brain has rushed below her pajama bottoms, “Thank you! Enjoy your – enjoy your night!”
He laughs breathlessly, “You too, baby,” he waves and twists back to the computer while Y/N tries to be normal, walking out the door, closing it behind her, and walking back out to the living room.
Aki and Niall are awaiting the news anxiously. Aki held Muffy against her chest, where she was purring and making biscuits, and Niall was cradling a fruit pizza slice like it was pure gold (it sort of was). “So?” Aki breaks the silence.
Y/N closes her eyes, then lifts 8 fingers.
“Oh my god, I fucking knew it!” Niall exclaims, maybe a little too loudly.
. . .
Y/N’s scared.
She didn’t start the day scared. No, she started the day feeling safe, as she always does with Harry snuggled around her body. Really, she hadn’t realized how much she had started depending on him until she was sleeping – or trying to sleep – on her pallet she’d made for their sleepover. Y/N never had trouble sleeping on it before, but that night, she had needed to be pressed against Niall’s blanket-stealing self to feel even a little like she could fall asleep. And even then, she was struggling more than she usually does. Part of her, several times, almost thought she should get up and crawl into bed with Harry. Instead, she just pitifully pretended he was the body beside her and imagined how his arm wraps around her and holds her close, the rise and fall of his chest, the sleepy little murmurs he does when she wiggles even a little. That did eventually push her into sleep, though a fitful rest at best.
Anyway, this morning in particular, she was snuggled up against him, feeling peaceful and soft. Y/N had work this morning, and usually he was up before her, but he’d been sleepier lately. The last couple of days, he’d been out late into the night, only coming home when Y/N had already started shutting down for bed. He looked tired too, even though he was still smiling sweetly for her, and kept apologizing nonstop for not being home for dinner.
“The end of all this should be soon,” Harry told her one night, after brushing his teeth. He’d started ditching a sleep shirt, so Y/N was being greeted with an eyeful of bare torso that she knew she’d be pressed against later that night, “I can feel it. They’re doing stupid shit – the kind of stuff you do when you’re backed into a corner.”
Y/N’s face was flush against her pillow. Muffy snuggled against the curve of her belly, “What stuff?”
Harry paused, a dark look crossed over his face – not at her, necessarily, but just like he’s remembering just exactly what they did, “Are you sure you want to know?” He asked, and it made something in her chest stir.
“Never mind,” she held Muffy a little closer, “It seems like it’s been hard for you, though. Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head, a soft little noise in his throat, “Just keep being you, that’s all I need,” he said, in a voice so incredibly gentle she almost wanted to turn into a puddle, “You have no idea how nice it has been to come home to you, y’know? Usually, I’m dealing with all this bullshit and go back to an empty place, but it’s just – so good,” he turned to face her, lying his cheek against his palm, “To come back here, and it’s just cozy and sweet, it smells good, and you and Muffy are always here so cute. It settles something inside me.”
Y/N smiled, feeling like she could buzz out of her skin, “Really?”
“Yeah,” he told her, then reached out, and for the first time awake, he’d scooted across the mattress preemptively, looping an arm over her waist and wiggling his legs between hers, “It’s nice.”
So, yeah, she woke up feeling all warm and cozy, happy. Y/N tried not to wake Harry when she was crawling out of bed, but failed miserably because he could probably wake up to the sound of an eyelash falling. His arms tightened around her, and Y/N huffed, “Harry, I need to get ready for work.”
“No,” he whined, and it was so cute that Y/N could have turned around and bit him, “Not ready for the day yet.”
Y/N giggled, slid her hand over his wrist and then his hand, slid her fingers into the spaces between his, and pulled up, “I can tell.” She told him, “You’re never asleep longer than me. But I gotta get ready.”
He let her get up just a little further, but then his arm tightened around her again, and this time his body moved, his face pressing into her lower back. Y/N laughed a little louder this time. She batted at him, ticklish from his nose digging into her spine, “Harry!”
“Ughh, I know, I know,” his voice vibrated against her, but still, he nuzzled against her, then breathed in deep and giggled when she gasped and wriggled. Y/N is all tangled in the blankets, twisted to look at him. He was staring at her with one eye squinted closed still, and a sleepy smile. Harry looked extra cute when he was just woken up – she couldn’t believe that this was a gaze she hadn’t been privy to before. His voice was lower too, rougher, and Y/N hated that it made her insides all twisted up, “I’ll make breakfast.”
She got ready, she ate breakfast, and Harry took her to work. All normal things. He dropped her off in the garage, Y/N met Niall outside of the elevators, they rode up to their floor, and Y/N had a semi-boring work day. Nothing super exciting happened. Now that the album rollout had finished for the bigger artist from before, they had separated the floor into different segments for a variety of smaller artists to start working on their marketing plans. The music industry was oversaturated with a lot of the same stuff, so sometimes it’s difficult to get people hyped for artists without a largely established fan base. Still, they try their best to help push them into the public eye a little more.
Y/N doesn’t hear from Harry much today, but that was the usual as of late. He’s been busy, so she mostly gets a couple of messages from him in the morning and nothing else until she sees him to pick her up later that night. Even if he has to turn around and drop her off at home, he never misses the timing to come get her, so she hasn’t ever felt the need to remind him. It’s why she isn’t worried when she hasn’t heard from him, after she blew kisses to Niall and Aki, who – both of their groups had to stay back for a meeting with the artist that their group was assigned. Y/N would have her meeting with them next week, so she didn’t have to worry about it.
It’s quiet when she’s going down the stairwell, not interested in the borderline traffic jam of the elevators that comes with clocking out and everyone rushing home. Her feet echoed on the stairs, the click of her flats. Y/N was humming to herself, a song that Aki got stuck in her head from an edit she saw, but she had no idea what the song was, and when she looked through the comments, none of them said what it was. She’s tired, excited to take off her shoes in Harry’s car, and she wondered if they would have time to stop and get a fruit tea on the way home.
But when Y/N exited the stairwell, into the parking garage, Harry wasn’t in his typical spot. Which was weird. . .was he parked a little further down? She isn’t sure – she clutched her bag a little closer to her shoulder and started to walk between the cars. As she does so, she starts to unzip her purse so that she can grab her phone and make sure that he hadn’t messaged her saying that he’d be late, or that she’d need to take the subway.
Maybe it was her intuition that made her stomach twist a little. That same cold feeling of panic rushes through her thighs that had been there the night that they’d been getting followed, like her brain was telling her something was wrong, Harry wouldn’t be late without calling her, and –
As soon as she turned around to hoof it back inside, the SUV she’d been standing beside opened up. She’s almost immediately discombobulated, like when you trip and fall but you don’t realize you’re falling yet, and which way is up doesn’t make sense, and you aren’t sure that you fell until you’re on the ground looking up. Y/N opened her mouth with a mix between a gasp and a scream, thrashing against the sudden force pulling her. A piece of fabric is stuffed between her mouth and quickly tied behind her head. Her body collides with the backseat of a car that wasn’t Harry’s, and another scream builds up in her throat, though it’s muffled.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” a voice she’d never heard spoke to her, and Y/N’s eyes are suddenly covered too, she isn’t sure by what, but no amount of her moving her head and bucking her body is getting it to stop, “You need to calm down and stop screaming.” Y/N doesn’t listen, because why would she, but then the voice gets serious again, more stern, “I’m serious. I don’t want to knock you out, okay? I just need to transport you from point A to point B, and I’d rather do that with as little force as possible. But I will, if I need to.”
Y/N is breathless, her chest heaving as she’s repositioned in the car that she can tell is already moving. She doesn’t know what to do. Her heart is beating faster than a rabbit’s, and her stomach is turning. Her eyes want to swell up with tears because she’s feeling incredibly helpless, and what’s worse, she doesn’t know if Harry’s okay.
“Okay, okay, just relax. You aren’t wanted for anythin’ bad, yeah? Honestly, this is probably the least violent reason we’ve taken someone.”
“Promise you that ain’t gonna make her feel any better.” Someone else said they were further away – around the front seat, she thinks, most likely the one driving. Her toes curl up in her shoes, Y/N whines in her throat, but feels herself getting buckled in. “Really, we’re hoping that if this goes south, that bloke you’ve been with don’t try killing us. Our job is transport, nothing more, nothing less; we don’t want a scratch on you.”
Y/N makes another noise, the fabric tastes bland and rubs against her tongue weirdly, getting wet from her spit. Through muffled words, she asks them where he is, but they really can’t understand her. Now the guy in the back with her tucked his fingers into the fabric and pulled it down. Spit drags down her chin, and it’s a sensory issue that she’d deal with later. It smells like leather in here, even though the seat she was on wasn't leather. The air is blasting, and though she’s sweating, she’s got goosebumps all over her skin.
“Where is he?” She won’t say his name. Y/N remembered distinctly Harry telling her the night they met that he normally doesn’t tell people his name – that he’d only been honest with her because he felt bad, and it was a show of good faith. “What did you do?”
“Nothing, nothing,” the guy beside her said, and she hated that she couldn’t see him or read his face, “Seriously, they just sliced a tire or two to keep him stuck. Is he a cop or summat? He was sort of scaring us when we were following him.”
“Yeah, what’s up with the gun, hm? He’s got it strapped ‘round his waist like he needs it in a quick second.”
“We are not interested in any of that if he comes looking for you.”
Y/N is confused. Did they not know Harry was who he was? They must have really thought he was merely her boyfriend who carried a gun around. Does that mean Finley didn’t know who Harry was? Did he also just see him as her dutiful boyfriend who was just always around? They were worried about him coming to kill them, but they must have just been weirded out by the gun. Which is fair enough – Y/N is also concerned when she sees someone with a weapon and no uniform out in public.
“Where are we going?” Y/N asks – for no reason, she isn’t that scared of these guys. She isn’t, by any means, feeling any warm and fuzzies, but they do seem adamantly against hurting her, at least. Was Harry’s presence really that frightening? Or did they actually know what he did, and they were pretending not to?
“Can’t tell you,” the one beside her says, “But it’ll be a quick drive, yeah? They just need you for something.” He pats her shoulder, and Y/N startles, “Oh! Sorry – don’t know what it is, but it ain't bad.”
They talk amongst each other the rest of the way while her brain supplies her with the worst possible scenarios. Yeah, they’re telling her that it isn’t bad, but they could also just be trying to settle her so she doesn’t keep fighting. She doesn’t know these guys – they have no reason to be telling her the truth or anything like it. She would move her hands, but he’s got her wrists gripped in one of them, and he’s holding firm. Didn’t Harry tell her there was trafficking going on? Guns and drugs for sure, but she couldn’t help but get a sick feeling that there could be more to it than just that. Like maybe Harry had been sparing her, so she thought it was only those two and nothing more.
Y/N guesses that she and Harry never discussed what she should do in a situation like this. Maybe they should have had some sort of game plan for her. How she should act or what she should do. For now, she thinks it might be smart to conserve her energy in case an opportunity to run away arises. Still, the feeling in her legs is all but gone from fear alone. She thinks if she were to stand up right now, then she’d crumple to the ground almost instantly. They would probably have to hold her up to get her inside of. . .wherever it was.
It smelled like leather and cologne; it was clogging up her nose. The air in here felt thick from smoke, but she guessed they wouldn’t be cracking a window because of her right now, and the chance she would scream. The windows were tinted when she’d been walking by them before, so she knew nobody could see inside. She hears cars pass them, so they still must be in a heavily populated area, which brought her some comfort at least. If they were headed toward country roads or highways, then she would’ve contemplated just chucking herself out of the car and hoping for the best.
There are about ten minutes that pass before they slow to a stop somewhere. The car hums softly, and the sound of a text being sent echoes in a near-silent car. Y/N stays still, like she’s hoping they’d forget she was there if she didn’t move a single muscle, but of course, she had no such luck. Movement comes from her right, “Again, I don’t want to knock you out or nothin’, just want to take you from point A to point B.” Something is looping around her wrist, then twisting it behind her back, and the fabric is pulled back into her mouth despite a murmured protest from her. That was her last warning, before the car door popped open and she felt herself being tugged outside. Or, well – outside of the car, at least. From the echo and the lack of wind, she could tell she was in a garage of some kind.
Y/N is ushered into what feels like an elevator. Her heart speeds up again, and the rush of her blood roaring through her ears is all she can focus on. She whips her head left to right like that would help her see through the fabric at all, but it doesn’t. It does, however, earn her a small grunt from whoever has their fingers wrapped around her bicep. “Watch your head,” he tells her, voice a little lower than it was in the car, “You’re g’na knock us both out if we hit each other.”
She would love to knock him out, probably, but she would like to stay awake and lucid through the duration of whatever this was. The tears that would have spilled had been rescinded for now, like her body knew it was not the time to get emotional. She really couldn’t afford that, right now. If she were hiccuping and snotty, sniffling, it’d be harder to focus.
When the elevator comes to a stop, she’s brought off of it. There are no voices or anything heard in this new area they have her in; their feet click and echo on what she would guess is linoleum or something. The staticky hum above her head is giving fluorescent lighting vibes – it sounds like her job when she turns up early enough in the morning that the only people there are the manager and smut-reading Holly. Was she in an office?
She’s brought somewhere and pressed down into a chair. It bounces slightly and rolls, before there are two sets of shoes walking away, out of the room, “I reckon you hurry,” one of the voices calls back, the one who was driving, “The bloke she’s with seems like he could change a tire fast.”
Y/N swallows thickly, then flinches again when the fabric is pulled from her mouth again (and seriously, they need to get this damp piece off her neck before she freaks out). Then the fabric is pulled away from her eyes, and it takes her a second to adjust to the blinding light, blinking several times until they adjust to the world after being hidden away. When her vision finally clears, she sees she’s in an office, like she thought. It looks like she’s in the boss's office, though, on a high floor if the windows were anything to go by, showing the tops of several buildings. In the chair across from her sat Finley, and behind him, leaning on the desk, stood someone with a similar complexion to hers and hair that was maybe just one shade away from being her own, even pulled back in the same style that Y/N had hers in. Their outfits, however, do not match, because this woman, whom she’s guessing is Antonyia, is dressed in designer clothes from head to toe. Y/N had a linen button-up and a skirt that Harry had called her a garden fairy this morning.
“You’re fucking joking.” Is the first thing Y/N says, her fists clenching behind her back, “What the hell?”
“I know,” Finley grimaces, “I really didn’t want it to come to this, but you practically ran away from me in the mall when I tried to set up a date, so –”
“Yeah, because it was fucking creepy!” Y/N exclaims, “You stood me up once and then expected me to just jump at the chance to get coffee?”
Finley raised his hands, “Listen, I’m well aware that that hadn’t been the best way to go about it,” he motions toward Antonyia, “She actually told me that I couldn’t have come off creepier. But you seemed pretty resolute in not speaking with me, so I had to take a more. . .intense approach.” He then motions toward her, referencing the state of her. Y/N’s heart is still thudding, but with something like anger too – this is so fucking stupid!
“Where’s – where’s my boyfriend?” Y/N phrases it instead, trying to gauge if Finley had any idea who Harry was. She was still careful not to give his name or anything, though she stumbled a little over her words.
Finley peeks at his watch, like they’re on a time crunch. “He’s fine,” he waves her off, like it’s not a concern. “The twins slashed his tire somewhere with dodgy cell service. It’s why he couldn’t come get you.”
Y/N huffed, “So what, you’ve been following me? Is that why you knew where to pick me up?” He nods, “This is fucking crazy.” Because why has Y/N gone almost all of her life without being followed, only for two different sides of the same debacle to have followed her at some point in the last couple of months? This is ridiculous!
“Listen, I know, and we really don’t have time for all of this, okay? We have a flight out of here, but we have some people following us. I’m hoping we sent them on something close to a wild goose chase to buy us a bit more time, but they’re smart – they’d be able to find us eventually. There was a mic in my house, I found, so we gave them some false info as to where we’d be. Where she’d be –” he nodded again, toward Antonyia standing behind him, still silent for now, “So really, we just need you to pretend to be her. We’ll get you changed into her clothes and have you down at the pier, where they think I’m meeting her at my yacht for a private dinner. While they are confused by who you are, she and I will be elsewhere, sneaking out. Nobody gets hurt, everything is nice and easy.”
Y/N’s brows are furrowed, pinched right in the center.
“Why would I do that?” She inquires, “What do I get out of helping you? Why would I want to when you kidnapped me off a lot!”
Finley patted his pocket, “I’ll cut you a check.” He said simply, because all rich people think that everything could be solved with money, “10,000 quid? More?”
And, had Y/N had no idea what was going on, she might have been convinced. Money for pretending to be someone? It was kind of hard to beat, when the most she’d have to do is probably walk onto a yacht, as long as nobody started shooting at her or something. But she couldn’t be a part of whatever the hell this was. And she didn’t want money that was pulled from a gun trafficking ring, or drugs, or anything that is meant to ruin people’s lives.
“I don’t want to.” She told him.
Antonyia rolls her eyes, “I told you this was a waste of fucking time.” She pushes herself off the desk and storms off, shouldering through the door and leaving Y/N alone with Finley, who gave a deep, heavy sigh.
“How about you think about it, hm? I’ll give you some time.”
He follows after her, and then Y/N is alone. Or, at least she thought she would be. Another person replaces Finley – this guy is quiet, with what definitely looks like a gun underneath his shirt. He stands with his hands behind his back and a bored look on his face, and Y/N wants to cry again.
“Just don’t move or anything.” He tells her, and then goes back to being quiet.
Y/N nods.
Surely Harry would realize something has happened to her, right?
. . .
Harry is immediately thrown off when his low-pressure light comes on for his tire. He’s thankful that he has a spare, sure, and that he knows how to change a tire, but he had literally just started driving when all of a sudden it felt like he was practically on the rim. Something nasty settles in his gut when he checks the time – it’s too close to when he picks Y/N up from work, and when he tries to send a message to her to stay inside, or to go with Niall and Aki – it won’t go through. He has no service at all.
All of this was very horror movie sketchy, and he half expected Jeepers Creepers to roll up on him or something in some big, evil truck. It does put a more intense kick in his step so that he can get to her.
What really makes him feel sick, though, is when he checks out his tire and finds a thin gash right between the grooves. Too long and precise to have been an accident. This was definitely on purpose, and if there hadn’t already been a sweat building up on his neck, then he would have broken out into one almost instantly. This was bad. This was really, really bad.
Harry started working even quicker, looking at the time, imagining Y/N walking out of the doors into the parking garage waiting for him. Someone else being there instead of him. Fuck. Fuck!
The spare goes on easily, thankfully, but he has to waste time airing it up, so there weren’t any other mishaps on the way. He’s too far fucking away, even if he drove well over the speed limit, Y/N would have already been out of work. Did someone know who he was? Or did they just notice he drives her around all of the time? They had kept the fuck who was following them around, and, from what he’d told them, he had no clue who Harry was or what they wanted from Y/N. That he was paid 10,000 quid to follow a girl in her mid-20s and see what times she would most likely be alone (Harry had punched him again for that – he couldn’t help himself). He’d just thought Harry was her boyfriend – an overly dutiful one. And he hadn’t been released until all of this was done, so that he couldn’t expose Harry or Adam for being involved.
Harry felt like something was coming; he just didn't know what. They finally had a lead that he’d be down at the pier tonight with Antonyia on his yacht, which would be a perfect escape route because it does take some time to steal and rig up another person’s boat to chase after them. They could be off into the night sea, and nobody would have a clue where they disappeared off to. But his assistant is the one who spilled, after being snatched outside of his house by Adam and being scruffed up a bit. They had plans to stake the place out until they showed up – Harry had been down at the pier, but was hurrying to take Y/N home, drop her off where he knew she’d be nice and safe, and then come back.
He stopped for gas, and then he came out, drove for a while, and his tire is completely fucked. Wherever they had sliced into it had been perfect to only lose steam when he was far from the gas station – enough that he wouldn’t be able to make a call. This is so fucked.
Harry steps on the gas. He’s whipping and weaving through cars in a way that would give his driving instructor from his teens a reason to go back in time and never pass him. His palms are sweating, and his mind feels frantic – this is the first time in a very long time that Harry feels legitimately scared. Scared for what they’ll do to her – scared for what she’ll say. They never talked about what she should do if something like this should happen, because he didn’t want to worry her. He had vowed to always be there for her so she wouldn’t ever need to worry about something like this.
God, he doesn’t even want to think about what could be happening. His only solace is offered in the fact that they want her for their own benefit. That they need her to be a stand-in, and to be a stand-in for some wannabe kingpin’s girl, you can’t really have them limping or bleeding anywhere, or else it would be too obviously a ruse. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself to calm down. He needs to check her location – he keeps his phone up on the little tracking dot for when it finally switches from ‘No Location Found’ to a little blue dot.
His poor baby – she’s probably so fucking scared.
If they laid even a single finger on her, he’ll fucking kill them.
. . .
Y/N thinks 30ish minutes pass before Finley comes back into the room. It’s longer than she imagined him giving her, since they seem like they crunched for time, but if they don’t know who Harry is, then they must think the most he’d do is call the police or something. They wouldn’t know that Harry has her location, and honestly, whoever took her didn’t seem to be digging around in her purse at any point. Her purse was on Finley’s desk, actually, just out of reach. If anyone was calling her, she’d have no clue because she has the ringer off during work days, but she could only imagine that Harry realized something was fucked by now.
“Any thoughts?” Finley inquired, “We really don’t have time for you to sit and chew on it for any longer.”
“Well, I’m still refusing.” She huffs, swallowing hard.
This time, he rolls his eyes, “Okay, listen,” he began, lowering so that his face was mere centimeters from hers. She could smell liquor on his breath, and her nose scrunched because of it, turning away so that it was hitting the side of her face. He grabs her chin, though, and yanks her to look at him, and a distressed noise leaves her throat, “I was trying to be nice, yeah? Give you the illusion of a choice and even put some money in your fucking pocket, but if you’re going to be a bitch about this, then I can be a bitch too. Either you come willingly, get paid, and keep your mouth fucking shut, or we force you, no money, and you’ll be lucky not to end up at the bottom of the fucking oce–”
There’s commotion outside. Finley gets distracted in whatever he was saying, eyes darting to the side like he was looking out the door. Y/N cranes her neck the best she can to look as well, his hand still on her chin. There were more people than it had sounded like when she first came in, all scattered about, moving, some rushing toward the left and some rushing away. Y/N is confused – she can’t make out what they’re saying, but muted whispers become shouting.
There’s gun shots, and Y/N almost screams, a full body jump where she nearly launches herself off the chair. Her blood runs cold – is she really about to get trapped in the middle of a fucking shoot-out? Oh my god, this seriously could not get any worse. Unless – was it Harry? Was it Harry’s team? Or was it the cops?
Antonyia, who had previously been out of the room, rushes in while the guy who had been armed rushes out. Just as she does, Y/N sees the glimmer of Harry around the corner. Relief floods through her almost instantly, and her mouth opens, “Harry!” She screamed before a palm collided with her mouth, muffling her, but it was too late – from where he was, he may not be able to see her, but he definitely could hear her. Y/N can’t see anymore because Antonyia slams the door shut and locks it.
“Fuck!” Finley yells out, especially because now, Y/N does start fighting against him. Harry’s here; he could get her out of this. If she fought before, she wouldn’t know the first thing to do to get away, especially since there were fucking armed guys lining the office floor. But now, she stood more of a chance. Now it would be better. She wriggles and bucks and tries to flail, but he grips her tight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Antonyia, get the gun.”
“The gun?” She asks, shaking her hand, “What gun? What gun?”
“The – fuck, the one in my drawer.”
Antonyia runs over to the desk and starts to pull at the drawers, but all of them are locked. She keeps yanking and yanking, noticeably worked up, frantic, panicking. Y/N thinks both of their hearts are bouncing out of their chests – honestly, hers too, especially the more she hears happening outside. There’s yelling and hitting; there hadn’t been any more gunshots, but Y/N doesn’t particularly trust that.
“They’re all fucking locked!”
“The key is on the table, idiot, you have to –”
The door handle twisted. Finley stops talking, Antonyia stops moving, Y/N swallows hard, and wonders if her heart is going to burst right out of her throat. Once whoever is turning it registers that it’s locked, they let go of the handle. All of them can hear the person take a couple of steps back, the shift in the flooring outside the office. Then there is a thud. It makes all of them jump, the door rattling against its hinges.
Then there’s another one.
And another one.
On the fourth, there’s a sickening crack and the door busts open. There stands Harry, pissed off, and intimidating with his gun in hand. Finley scrambles up and covers as much of his body with Y/N’s as he can. Y/N says breathlessly, “Harry,” before her eyes really do start welling up with tears. Her hands are shaking – she knows she’s safer now than she has been, but she wants to be with him, pressed up against him, up under his arm.
Harry points his gun at Antonyia without thinking twice.
“Get your hands off her,” Harry’s voice is low, demanding, and Y/N doesn’t doubt for a second that he means his next sentence, “I’ll shoot her, and then I’ll kill you, if you don’t let go of her right fucking now.”
And Finley is an idiot, in most things it seems, but for once, he does appear to make a smart decision. Y/N feels the pressure around her body loosen as his arms fall from her, and Y/N trips forward toward Harry, while more people rush in through the door behind him. They’re swarming with orders and yelling, Y/N doesn’t know if they’re cops, or detectives, or just people in Harry’s group. She doesn’t know, and she really doesn’t give a fuck either, as she stumbles into Harry’s body and collides against him.
Y/N buries her face into his chest while he presses the back of her head with his palm, “I know, baby, I know, I know, I’m so sorry, I’m here now.” He loosens the ties around her back so her arms are free. She nods, and when he pulls her face from his chest to have her look at him, he locks eyes with her, “Yeah? I’m here now, baby, I’m here now. You’re okay.”
She peeks to the side to see Finley face down on the floor, and Antonyia with her arms tied behind her back. Harry guides her face back to his chest, “I’m taking you home.”
“But – but don’t they need you to –”
“No, none of that shit matters anymore, okay? I’m taking you home,” he is resolute, scratching gently at her scalp with his nails, when someone hands him her purse, “C’mon, baby, we’re going to leave here. But when we do, I need you to keep your eyes closed for me. And I mean it, don’t open them for anything.”
Y/N takes a shaky breath, nodding, having some idea what that means. She huddles closer to him, squeezing her eyes shut, and Harry starts walking her through the door, moving her around. There’s still a lot of commotion and ruckus around her, but she keeps her eyes closed as he told her to. Y/N doesn’t want to see anything that was going to traumatize her further. This was traumatizing enough without any visuals, really.
But they make it to the elevator, Y/N keeps her eyes closed the whole way down, and is guided out to the car. It’s very similar to how she’d been taken up there, only this time she feels safe. She doesn’t open her eyes until Harry has her seated in the car and she lets them flutter to the darkness of a parking garage again, feeling as he snaps the seat belt across her. Harry, for the most part, looks relatively unscathed. Clear of any bruises or scratches, no sight of blood, whether it be his own or someone else's. Harry holds the side of her face again, petting over her forehead, then her temple with his thumb, “Did they hurt you anywhere?” He pulls the gag off of her, and tosses it on the floor of his car, shaking his head, “Did the kick you or punch you? Cut you? Anything?”
“No,” she shakes her head, “No, no they didn’t I – they were worried to, the guys who took me – they said you seemed scary, so they didn’t want – didn’t want to do anything.” She answers, “Finley sort of started to threaten it, but nothing happened. My wrists are just a little sore.”
He nods, like he’s cataloging everything she’s saying while also doing a brief overview of her. Then, in a moment extra tender, he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to her forehead, “Okay,” he nestles his nose against the top of her head, “Okay, good. As long as you’re okay.”
Harry shuts the door and comes around on the other side. He doesn’t even wait a second before he pulls out, “I hope you don’t mind, but early today I installed a more intense security system in your flat.”
“I don’t mind, but –” she pinches at the fabric beside her thigh, “I – if you have to leave tonight at any point, I understand, but –”
“Baby, listen to me,” he cuts her off, then reaches over and places his hand on her thigh. It’s warm, where the heat from his palm seeps into her skin. “The only way I’m leaving your side is if you tell me you want me gone. Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” she replies, “Of course not, I want – I want you to stay.”
“Then I’m staying.” He replies decisively, “I’m staying until you ask me to leave.”
Y/N hardly thinks that will ever happen.
. . .
Once they got home, Harry showed her the security system and explained to her that if she didn’t type in the keypad and use her fingerprint within one minute of entering the home, it would send an alert to his phone, and subsequently, the police. He registered her index finger into the system and told her that he could delete his if she wanted, but Y/N told him it wouldn’t be necessary.
She feels too shaken to eat, but Harry warms her up a little bit of the soup he’d made yesterday for dinner. Y/N can stomach it at least, since it’s light, and she tries to scrub her brain clean of any memories of the last couple of hours. When she realizes that it is not going to work, she says she needs a shower, and Harry gets it started for her. He sets the temperature and tells her he’ll warm her towel in the dryer again.
But she was still shaken, nervous, and a little jumpy.
“Do you think you could maybe stay in here with me? Like – like while I’m in there?”
Harry’s gaze, which had already been quite soft, softened even more. He agreed, folding the towel in his lap and sitting on the toilet, “Okay, Sweetheart, I can do that,” he told her, “How was your morning, hm? Was separating into different teams stressful?”
Y/N knows he’s trying to get her mind off of what happened, and she lets him. She prattles on about the new artist, about some of their newer marketing tactics they’ll be utilizing, how streaming has influenced the industry beyond physical copies. . .a ton of shit that she usually doesn’t bother getting into. It made her feel better, though. When she was done, she turned the water off, and he stuck his hand past the curtain and into the shower. Y/N took it from him, looped it around her body, then tugged it open.
“I want to wear one of your shirts.” She sort of demanded, and Harry got on it right away. Y/N followed after him while he dug in his suitcases, and made a noise when she saw the one she wanted. It was just a plain shirt, but it’s one he slept in before he started forgoing a shirt altogether. She wears that and just some underwear, and then brushes her teeth before crawling into bed.
Harry showers with the door open while Y/N scrolled on her phone and snuggled a concerned Muffy, who kept purring and pressing herself further and further against Y/N’s neck until the kitten fell asleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, threatening to pull her into the mattress. She went from a wired adrenaline rush to feeling waterlogged. Her brain was begging her to sleep.
But she couldn’t quite settle until Harry crawled into bed beside her. Neither fake any pretenses. Y/N scooted over to him instantly, and Harry opened his arms for her readily, until she was pressed as close to him as Muffy was to her.
“It doesn’t have to be now,” he murmured softly, “But I think you should talk to a therapist about what happened. We have one that works with us – I see them every now and then. They already know what we do, so there’s no risk of them exposing anything if you’re worried about it. It’d be good to work through some of these. . .these experiences, you know? Only when you’re ready.”
Y/N hummed softly, let her eyes close, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
It lasts for only a few hours. Eventually, she stirs like she always does, still in Harry’s arms but faced away from him. She batted blindly around for her phone before finding it, squinting open, and seeing the time. It was late – 1 AM, and the moon was seeping through the curtains. Y/N didn’t let Harry turn all of the lights off last night, so her fairy lights twinkle, lining the ceiling and bringing a sense of warmth and comfort that not being submerged in total darkness provides. Her left shoulder aches, so she has no idea how long she’s been lying on it. She twists around in his arms carefully so she wouldn’t wake him up, but when she turns all the way around, she finds his eyes already open, gaze already set on her.
She jumps a little, a soft sleepy sound in her throat that makes him smile, “Sorry,” he says quietly, “Did I scare you?”
Y/N pouts at him a little, “Have you not – have you not been to sleep?”
He shakes his head, “No, but I’ve been watching you.”
His hand, as it has several times that day, finds her face again. He cradles the side of it, petting her like the feeling of her skin beneath his thumb is confirming that she’s real. That things ended the absolute best that they could, and that she was uninjured. Like it was his fault, and he would be spending a great deal of time trying to rectify it.
“This wasn’t on you,” she speaks as his fingers trace down her cheeks, over the curve of them, “It wasn’t your fault. I hope you’re not blaming yourself.”
“How could I not?” He replies, “I should’ve been there.”
Y/N’s brows furrow, “You can’t be everywhere all the time, you’re one man,” she feels like she’s reminding him, “And they slashed your tire. There was no way.”
“But I –”
“There’s no buts about it.”
He still seems unsettled, “I put you in danger.”
“I was in danger the moment they realized I looked like her – they didn’t even know who you were.” She reasons, “You’re the only reason why I’m safe and sound right now.”
“I just –”
Y/N doesn’t know what came over her. Maybe she wanted him to stop doubting himself and blaming his actions for why tonight went how it did. Maybe she wanted it so that he could feel how real she was and how okay she was, despite all of it. Maybe it was really just for herself, actually, because she wanted to be close and feel close to him. Whatever the reason, she surges forward and presses her mouth to his in a searing kiss.
She feels a little dramatic to say it, but it feels like two pieces coming together – like something meant to click into place finally has. Harry only takes a second before he reciprocates, deepening it, leaning into her mouth, and sliding the hand that had been on her face to the back of her head again. He holds her tightly, and when she parts for her tiny breath, he only chases after her lips until they meet again. It’s nice, his lips are soft, she feels warm and puddled.
Once he does part, the tip of his nose brushes against hers, his eyes closed as he mouths over her again. He presses her from her side to her back, covering her body and supporting himself with a forearm on the opposite side of her. A soft noise leaves him, like he’s been wanting this – needing this. The way you moan after taking a drink when your mouth is so dry.
Y/N parts her lips and carefully slips her tongue out, caressing the seam of his mouth. Harry opens readily, slides his tongue against her own. She moans a little this time, from her throat, feeling the careful weight he presses against her chest, the way his leg slides from her side, between her thighs with a knee bent to keep himself even just a little raised. Y/N wanted his full body weight on her, though. She liked how it felt to be completely covered by him. It’s why she snakes her arms around his shoulder and drags him down further. Her hands press against his back, feeling the strength of the muscles there, how easy it is for him to support himself on mostly one arm while still kissing her.
One of his hands finds her throat. Not to do anything, just to lie there, dragging his thumb across her pulse. He nips on her bottom lip, she thinks so he can feel her throat vibrate with the whine that leaves her, before he soothes it over with his wet tongue. When he drags himself away, it’s only to smear kisses against her chin, down her jawline, against the opposite side of her throat where his hand isn’t resting. Not only is he kissing her, but he’s rubbing his nose against her, breathing in slowly and deep, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin. Parts of her he sucks into his mouth, between his teeth to make blooming marks. Y/N’s okay with it – she likes it. She’s calling into work tomorrow anyway, so he might as well mark her all up.
If he’s satisfied with one spot, he moves to another. He does it again and again, until his lips are dotting around her collarbones and his teeth are meeting her shoulder. His hand slides from her neck, down, and he hovers just above her breast before he leans away. Y/N’s eyes had been closed, but at the sudden departure, she blinked them open.
“You have to tell me to stop,” he says, breathless, chest heaving as his gaze darts around her face, her neck, where his hand hovers, “I’ve wanted this for so long, baby, but if you don’t want it, then tell me to stop.”
“I want you,” she mewls, rocking her hips to press herself closer, “Please, I want to feel close, I want you.”
He kisses her again, this time with his hands skating up her shirt and finding her boobs. Harry kneads them, squeezes them – he seems to like how they feel against his hands, and how if he holds just right and squeezes just so, the flesh will start to pool around his knuckles. He flicks her nipples beneath his fingers before kissing down her neck again, only this time he goes further, stopping at her tits and dragging his tongue over the fabric. Y/N whines again, reaching for the hem of the shirt and hiking it up, up, up, until she can pull it over the swell of her breasts.
From her POV, it looks like Harry had just been bestowed a feast before his very eyes. He pulls her nipple into his mouth and swirls around it until it pebbles up for him, feeling the ridge of each bump with the tip of his tongue. Harry doesn’t do the annoying thing she’s seen plenty of men do in porn, where they just keep popping on and popping off. He sticks on, only pulling his lips back when he’s sucking at them, before pulling more skin into his mouth so he can lave against it again. Y/N’s nipples haven’t ever been the most sensitive, but the show he’s putting on is making her feel like they are. She’s getting wetter, the thin material of the panties starting to stick to her lips as he dots kisses across her chest to her other nipple.
Y/N’s fingers find his hair, carding through the strands and gripping tightly at the nape of his neck and at the top of his head. Her chest heaves with every little breath she takes, and he chuckles against her when she starts to press his head down, arching her back.
“I didn’t take you for a head pusher, Sweetheart,” he murmurs against her skin, but he gets the memo, dragging the tip of his nose and his upper lip down her torso, like he was drawing a line. Her stomach jumps, ticklish from these feathery kisses he starts giving her just below her belly button, “You want me to make you feel good, hm? Want Daddy to make you feel good?”
She shakes all over and moans, a heated coil twirling in her belly the way it always does when she’s reading something she’s surprised that she’s into. His hands are slipping down her sides, skating along the skin until he gets to her hips. Her hips twitch under his hold, but he presses her down and makes sure she can’t move, and she thinks if she tried hard enough, she could cum just from this and her clit pushing against the fabric of her underwear.
“Use your words,” he orders, “What do you want?”
“Make me feel good,” she twitches again, only to be held down, and yeah – she really could cum from just this, “Please, please, I want to feel good, I haven’t in so long.”
Harry noses down to her folds, the tip of it dipping against the wet fabric, “Poor baby,” he murmurs softly, “Just need someone to take care of you, yeah?”
“Just want you to take care of me,” she whines, “Just want – just want Daddy to.”
Harry makes a noise between a moan and a growl before he buries his face against her pussy. It’s almost animalistic in the way that he doesn’t seem to care how much of his face gets wet. He breathes in deep and hangs his tongue out so that it’s stroking past her with every swipe up and down. Like he couldn’t even wait to get them off of her – like he needed this more than he could even put into words.
Y/N spreads out her legs for him, knees pulled up on either side and split open. His fingers pressed into the bottom of her thigh like he needed something to grip onto, to maintain his handle on reality. That’s how she felt, holding onto his other hand that she’d noticed on her right side, just lying there, digging into the blankets. Maybe it was too sentimental and mushy for whatever they were, but Y/N slots her fingers between his anyway, and he held onto her like she was something sweet and precious to him.
When he finally tugs her panties to the side, he must overestimate how much strength he would need for it because they rip in half. It wasn’t helped by the fact that they already had a tiny tear in the seam, but he widened it, stretched it out, and the show of strength was enough to get her moaning again. Harry doesn’t seem concerned by it, just immediately slips his tongue between her folds like there’d been a magnet drawing him there. He presses in firm and deep, the tip just barely fluttering against her hole that she can’t help but pucker a little for him. He drags it up, wet and full, against her clit, before he briefly sucks it into his mouth.
Y/N gasps, her legs jerk like they might try closing around his head, but he keeps her pressed open as he does it again. Starting low and dragging his tongue up, barely suckling her clit before going back down. He does it until she’s rocking her hips against his tongue, whining at him, “More –” she feels greedy, but she can’t help it, “More, please – suck on me more.”
“Filthy little thing,” he says, his words vibrating against her pussy – he stays close, like he couldn’t bear the thought of pulling his lips any further away, “Want me to keep this tasty little button in my mouth, yeah? Suck on it until you cum?”
Her other hand is digging into his scalp, tugging, “Yes,” her toes curl so tightly they pop, her clit throbbing like it heard that they were talking about it. He’s unrelenting on her slit, slurping up everything she drools and leaks for him, before he licks around her clit. This time, instead of the tiny little sucks, he treats it how he’d been treating her nipples. He takes her clit and just a few centimeters beneath it, into his mouth, suctioning against her, fluttering his tongue back and forth while she pulsed around nothing. It’s hard for her thighs not to tremble; it feels too good, better than anything she’s ever felt before. She could tell he was practiced and enjoying himself, not just doing it as an obligatory precursor to fucking her.
Two fingers carefully prod at her hole, circling in her slick before sliding in slowly. Harry’s fingers are long and on the thicker side, so the stretch is felt, but it wasn’t horrible. She was wet enough and horny enough that her walls were coaxing and accommodating, like she’d been waiting for something to get inside of her this whole time. He pulls off her clit for a small breath before latching back on, and when she squeezes tightly around his two fingers, he moans a soft, “Mhm,” that makes her eyes flutter and roll back. Now that he doesn't have a hand on her thigh, Y/N tries to hold herself up and open for him, but she’s doing a bad job of it. Especially when his fingers curl and nudge at her G-spot.
Once Harry finds it, he doesn’t let up. He only retracts for a moment to slip a third finger in as he strokes against her spongy bump, sucking on her clit in the way no man has ever done for her. Her eyes brim with tears – it’s too much, and it feels too good. Her orgasm feels like a lightning bolt zipping down from her brain to a hot coiling spring in her belly. He must be able to feel it, because he moans another hum against her like he’s encouraging her. But he doesn’t go any faster – he doesn’t change his pace at all, while Y/N’s eyes are squinted closed, her spine starts to curl inward, as she pushes her hips closer, shoving herself against his mouth.
“Cumming, I’m cumming,” she whined, when it finally hits her, full body waves rolling through her as she jumps and twitches against him. At first, she’s quiet, her breath stolen from her, but when she finally sucks in air, the sound that leaves her is a little guttural and sort of embarrassing. She’s worried she’s going to get a cramp from how tight she has all of her muscles.
When she finally comes down, she’s sensitive, pressing his head away, melting into the mattress. It opens her up further for his fingers, which spread out and stretch, opening her up even more. He places kisses on the tender insides of her thighs, nosing against the junction of where they meet her pussy.
“How do you want me, baby?” He asks, “Do you want to be on top? Do you want me on top of you?”
She thinks about it – thinks about what she wants right now, and right now, she sort of wants to be surrounded by him. Engulfed in him, and if he’s inside of her on top of that, that was even better.
So she flips around onto her belly when he eases his fingers out of her (and pops them into his mouth – he was a real eater, for sure), “I want your – your bicep wrapped around me, kinda like a chokehold but not actually choking me. Just there, y’know, I’d – I’d like that.”
Harry chuckles, sliding his hand down the center of her back toward her bum, spreading her open, “Yeah, Daddy can do that for you.”
She whines when his thumb brushes past her other hole, tightly puckered, and she reaches back to bat at him, “Don’t – don’t look at my butthole,” she grumbles, and he laughs again.
“Sorry, baby,” he positions her legs beneath a pillow, before leaning over to her bedside drawer and finding a condom, “S’just a cute little hole, I might need to play with it one day.” The head of his prick tap, tap, taps against her drippy slit. He paints it up and down, stroking the tip through the mess of spit and slick before he slowly starts to press forward.
The stretch of his cock is more intense than his fingers, with less give, and a little girthier than 3 stacked on top of each other. She thinks this position, too, in particular, makes it feel more intense. She doesn’t even have a chance to be upset that she didn’t actually get to look at it before he slid it inside of her, because it’s so much. So big and thick, she thinks she can feel it in her throat when he finally bottoms out, his balls swollen and full, tucked against her pussy.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, stretching over the top of her. She feels his chest and belly press against her back, and his arm carefully loops up under her head, curling around her neck. It isn’t tight, but it’s reassuring, holding her close, and she can rest her cheek comfortably against his bicep. “That’s it, pretty girl. How do you feel?”
Y/N has to urge every brain cell that controls her mouth to work, “Full,” she feels herself squeeze around him, and Harry’s hips jerk a little deeper, “So full.”
“Yeah?” He pets her side before he brings his other arm around her body, across her shoulders, so she can fully rest against his arms. “You like feeling full.”
She nods, eyes closing as she soaks it in, “Is it good for you?” She inquires, “Do I feel good for you?”
“You feel perfect.” His cheek is pressed against the side of his head, so his words are right in her ear, “So perfect for me. Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
Harry’s careful as he starts. First, he grinds slowly and deeply, letting her walls get used to the stretch and size of him, before he rolls his hips out just a little, then sinks back in. Then he does a little more, and sinks back in, then even more – he does it again and again until just the tip is in before he fucks back into her. Each thrust is punctuated by the slap of their skin meeting, and Y/N gasping and whining with each movement. He’s all around her, just like she wanted. In her ear, around her torso, tucked inside of her. Every part of him crowds her, and she feels safe, and full, and good, so, so good.
“Talk to me,” she demands, her hands curling around his arm, “Wanna hear your voice.”
He giggles softly, “Yeah? You’re so soft, Sweetheart. Want me to tell you how badly I’ve been wanting this?” He keeps his pace, and even talking during it, it doesn’t even sound like he’s breaking a sweat, “How every night that I’m holding you, I just want to make you feel good? Have you cum on my fingers, my tongue, and my cock until you’re too worn out to wake up in the middle of the night, even for a second? My restless girl.” The way her pussy is stretching is probably obscene, if she could see it. All she can do is imagine how wide she’s spread for him, and how tightly her walls hug him. Y/N can feel it, how she sucks him back in every time he pulls out.
“Want me to tell you that I’ve been thinking about you calling me Daddy? How, when you had that stupid little dare to ask me the size of my cock and couldn’t stop looking at my crotch, I wanted to flip you over the desk and show you just how big it was?” Y/N moans, her thighs trying to close, but with how he’s positioned, his knees keep her spread open, their legs locked together, “Yeah, baby, I’ve been wanting you since the moment you teared up when I asked if we were friends. Fuck, I needed to eat you right then and there.”
With a whine, she tilts her face and bites into his bicep, “Don’t bring that up,” she fusses, “It was embarrassing.”
“It was perfect,” he murmurs, “You’re fucking perfect. I almost can’t stand it. Need to feel you like this every day – need to feel this tight, wet pussy sucking me right in, soaking my cock. Need to be pressed close to you like this. So happy you’re okay,” he noses at the side of her head again, “So happy to have you in my arms like this.”
The coil twists, warm, hot, and bright, “Harry,” she feels pathetic, how much she’s whimpering, how pitiful she sounds, “Again, m’g’na cum again.”
“Cum for me,” he murmurs, “Love making you feel good, baby, cum all over my cock.”
It’s more intense with him inside of her like this. More intense now that she can feel herself pulsing and squeezing, milking around his cock. Just like with his fingers, Harry keeps pace, the same ease, thrust and buck of his hips while he works her through it, curling tighter around her body to hold her still. It somehow manages to prolong her orgasm, she thinks. It feels like it lasts forever, trapezing through her body.
Harry cums soon after, only speeding his hips when he knew she was completely finished. He grinds in deep when he finishes, and Y/N is bummed that she’s not feeling it inside of her, spilling all over, slipping out when he keeps going. Still, the elation and pure bliss she feels outweigh any negative emotion. Her brain feels buzzy and tingly in a good way – one she’s never experienced before, as her body completely melts into the mattress, and therefore, further into his arms. They stay like this for a little while, catching their breath, feeling the sweat of each other’s skin pressed together.
When Harry eases up and carefully pulls out of her, he is only away from her body for as long as it takes to twist the condom and throw it away. Then he’s right back against her, “Did so well for me,” he murmurs, “Such a good girl, feeling so good for me. Do you want to cuddle some more, baby? Before I clean you up?” She nods, and Harry pulls her back in against his body, like he read her mind. Like he knows she wants him to completely swallow her up, wrapping his legs around hers, his arms around her, pressing her face into his neck. It wasn’t even too warm – it was perfect. So perfect, and she feels safe, secure, and satiated.
His fingers play carefully at her nape, doing light, feathery touches that tickle a little in the best way. Y/N giggles, wrapping her arm around his body, letting her fingers feel each nob and bump of his spine.
“Yeah?” He hums, “Are you feeling good?”
Y/N nods, because she’s doing better than that even. All things considered.
“I’m feeling great.”
“Good,” he hums, “You’re all mine now.”
. . .
Things settle out quite nicely, after all the drama of it is over. In the following week, the news is released to the public about Finley and Antonyia. Their mugshots are all over the news, and she gets a frantic call from Niall, who is crying about the fact that he almost set her up with a criminal. Harry gets to have some time off from his dangerous job, because that’s how it is after working for months on a bust like this – there’s vacation time in order, so he gets to relax a little, only working on his “normal” job.
He stays over more nights than he doesn’t. It had been so long since he’d been to his flat before, he told her he had to go and make sure the place hadn’t been actually flooded with sewage water, since they put that into the universe. At least twice a week, he goes back home to make sure everything is in order, but he always comes back with new clothes to store here for when he spends the night. Y/N doesn’t mind it at all – she likes her alone time, sure, but she prefers to have it knowing someone else is in the flat with her. Then it’s not as scary or creepy.
They aren’t like. . .officially anything yet. Y/N wants to ask him about it, but she doesn’t know how to without seeming clingy, even though he’s definitely the clingier of the two of them. But every version of her asking turns into him telling her they’re better off as friends who fuck sometimes, or him giving some half-baked excuse about his job being dangerous, or just anything that doesn’t end with them running off into the sunset. Niall and Aki tell her she’s being stupid, but that’s easy for them to say – they’re never the ones who need to confess first. They always have people falling at their feet practically, begging them to date before they’d even need to ask.
But one day, Y/N comes out of work one day with her coworker Jacob, who makes her laugh and slap his arm before they part ways (he never comes down the stairwell, but he told her about how he’d gotten stuck on the elevator this morning, and how the firemen actually had to come and get him out, and it was the most humiliating experience of his life – but he’s a funny guy, so it all comes out very hilarious), she doesn’t think anything of it when Harry asks, “Who is that?”
Y/N hums, because she’d been looking at the picture Niall sent her, and she lifted it higher for Harry to see, “It’s this guy Niall matched with on Hinge, we’re trying to find out if his profile is real or not. He’s Russian, apparently.”
“No, not him – but tell me more about him later, I have some software we can use to see if he’s a fake or not,” Harry motioned toward the door, “That guy you walked out with.”
“Oh! That’s Jacob! He’s one of the secretaries,” she answers, slipping her phone back in her purse, “He’s really funny.”
“Not funnier than me, right?”
“Well…..”
“Hey!” Harry made an affronted sound, “You’re not supposed to think any man is funnier than your boyfriend, didn’t you know that?”
Y/N paused. Her eyes widened when she turned to look at Harry, who did not appear like he’d said anything out of the ordinary. She blinked a couple of times, registering it, before repeating, “Boyfriend?”
“Uh, yeah?” Harry replied, tilting his head, “I am your boyfriend. You’re supposed to think I’m the funniest guy in the world next to Niall.”
“I – I mean, yes, you’re very funny, I just didn’t know – I mean. . .we’re dating?”
A look of pure horror warps Harry’s face, “Oh my god,” he says quietly, then immediately turns into a different parking space, pushes the gear shift into park, and turns to face her, “Baby, what? Yes!”
“Oh!” Y/N exclaimed, “Oh, I just didn’t know! You never asked so –”
“Oh, wow, this is what it felt like the night I asked if we were friends, isn’t it? I think I’m going to cry,” he looks as shocked as Y/N feels, “We’ve – I mean, yeah, according to me, we’ve been dating.” Then, he looks a little worried, “I mean, are you not interested in –”
“No! That isn’t it at all,” she denies, “I – no, Harry, I want to be dating you very badly, I just didn’t know we already were,” Y/N puffs out a disbelieving laugh, “I’ve been spending the last like three weeks trying to figure out how to tell you I liked you more than just friends.”
Harry seems to relax, shoulders slumping a little as he melts back into his seat, “Well, great news for you, baby, that’s unnecessary. I don’t kiss my friends. If I did, I would’ve been laying them on you the moment your eyes watered that night.”
“I really need you to stop bringing that up.”
He grins at her, leaning forward and pushes a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.
“I guess, I could ask properly, instead of just assuming we were on the same page.” He slid his hand into hers, squeezing when the sides of their knuckles met, “It feels a little backwards, since we’re already coparenting a kitten, but Y/N – I like you a lot. I like you so much, in fact, that it makes me look so stupid sometimes. I want to be around you all of the time, and I want to sniff you, and cuddle you, and be weird about you. Would you maybe want to date me?”
guys so sorry i’ve been MIA recently 🤍 life is so busy. i’ve been in sports mom mode for the past five months and when your kids play sports there really is hardly time for anything else. i’m also working a whole bunch on top of that. and planning a couple of other trips i’m taking this year.
i’m going on vacation in a couple of weeks, and i’m hoping with that downtime i can get something posted!!! maybe the sugar daddy piece i talked about a while ago!! i’ve also seen some really cool concepts posted so i wanna read some and catch up !! give me your recs if u have any !!
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
origamiaround
gummygunk
titsay
jbbartram-illu
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
