Mind The Gap: A new Patreon Exclusive Tier series!
Pairing: Older!Harry x fem!reader
Trope: Age Gap
CW: Minor language, mentions of drinking/partying, 20-ish year age difference, smut, dad Harry, blonde Niall, lots of fun banter and some emotional moments.
A/N: This is my first go at an age gap fic and the events in this story are loosely based off something I went through and thought it would make a good fic! This is a light hearted take on an age gap fic and everyone in this story is a consenting adult nothing underage is going on!
Summary: You find yourself accidentally dating your bestfriend’s boyfriend’s dad, Harry. He’s about two decades older than you but neither of you really seem to mind.
*below you’ll find the free series intro to see if this is the kinda fic you’ll enjoy or not*
Being twenty two is a weird age, you’re old enough to drink but not old enough to rent a car. You can vote but aren’t really taken seriously when you voice your opinions on things. Sure you have a mind numbingly catchy Taylor Swift song that sometimes accurately describes how you’re feeling but other than that being twenty two is kind of boring. But that all changes when you take your bestfriend and current roommate Niall’s advice and take your car to a shop his boyfriend James recommends when the “check engine” light comes on for the fifth time in the last two months. It’s where you run into a man named Harry that looks far too put together to be sitting in the waiting area of a grimy dirty mechanic’s shop with his briefcase and button up. You don’t waste time in introducing yourself and that sets off a chain of events that will have you thinking that maybe being twenty two isn’t that boring after all.
Harry is in his early forties, works long hours, and follows the same routine each day. He spends most evenings at home, avoids last-minute plans, and rarely seeks out excitement. Through a previous marriage that ended years ago, he has a twenty one year old son named James who lives with him. All in all Harry thinks he has everything he could possibly need out of life, he’s got a handful of friends that he can count on to be there when he needs them, a son who is as far as Harry knows is in a new and healthy relationship and in Harry’s eyes he can’t really ask for much else. While he is happy with his life, Harry will also admit that sometimes it can be a bit boring. That all changes the day he meets you while waiting for his car to be ready after a routine oil change, having been going to the same mechanic for years he’s become good friends with the owner Mitch. You’re all smiles with an infectious personality and the moment you shake his hand and give him your name Harry gets a funny feeling that his life is about to get a lot less boring.
So if you’re ready to jump in and hit the gas on this fun new series join the honey pot tier today! Part 1 goes up next week!✨
Minding the Gap (S) by ♡Milk and Honey Fics♡ on Patreon. Join ♡Milk and Honey Fics♡'s community for exclusive content and updates.
maybe what they are into like their kinks and stuffff
sure, why not
fbh is the guy who's willing to try anything once. like a girl once told him she wanted him to spit in her face when he came and he just shrugged, said "alright", and gave it an enthusiastic try. you could ask this man to fuck the space between your toes and he'd give it his best attempt. he'll do it even just to say that he's done that, but he's willing to try at least once
lhh loves other people's pleasure, like it's a badge of honor to get someone else off. even when he's jerking it out in the shower later, he's remembering the way that person's thighs clenched around his head, the way their body shivered underneath him, their moans pitching before the released into his mouth
fbh has a fuck bucket list. he's got things on there like fuck in a teacher's office, foot job in the library, fuck in the middle of a thunderstorm, car head, getting caught in the coat closet at a party. yes a lot of this is public shit because he loves the thrill of people catching him, so he gets to show off how good he can give it
lhh has an auralism thing (sound kink). normally he prefers his hand most nights, because he hates dealing with the whole "ok goodbye no i won't call you" bullshit, but every once in a while, he's just so attracted to someone's voice he has to know what they sound like groaning over his cock
Summary: Harry and his colleague have celebratory birthday sex.
CW: Smut (MDNI - oral f! rec, fingering, talks of sex, dirty talk, whining, pleading, sex outside of workplace, workplace relationship, causal hookup, aftercare, m!orgasm without stimulation, sub!harry), strong language used, nicknames (baby, darling, angel, love, pretty, doll, no y/n), fluff (banter)
Word Count: 5.4k
Pairing: Sunshine Harry x colleague!fem reader
Location: London, UK
POV: readers, third person
💌 A/N: Hi beautiful people! This one was really fun to write. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you again for all the birthday wishes! ❤️ Let me know what you think! P.S. — Part two? 😚
Birthday’s were always so strange for her. The direct attention on her for the day, friends reaching out and sending birthday messages that she hadn’t heard from them the better half of the year and of course, the celebratory, annual birthday cry. Whatever happened, birthdays were emotional and most of the time, didn’t go exactly how she planned. So, she simply stopped celebrating her birthday. No celebration meant no disappointment by making it some sort of special day. She went to work like normal. Not drawing any attention to herself throughout the morning and was grateful when nobody commented about the date. When lunch came around she made her usual routine lunch order, added a cookie for dessert. She sat in the same corner, facing the sunlight and began to eat her mundane turkey sandwich and sip on her Diet Coke as she checked her Instagram feed.
Everything was completely normal and routine, just how she liked it.
“Hey, I heard it’s your birthday today!” Harry, her friendly co-worker, grinned from ear to ear. He held up the line in the middle of the cafeteria. Harry was a colleague on her floor and did his best to make everyone feel welcomed. He was like sunshine, always warm and positive.
He’d been advocating for employees rights like extra time off, adequate wages and even staying the extra hour to help pick up slack wherever was needed. Overall, he was an extremely supportive worker and charming too.
The whole team loved him. Well, everyone except her, especially right now. Something about his charm just didn’t make sense to her. He was so positive and happy, all the time.
“Oh, thanks Harry.” She forced a smile, eyeing the line behind him.
“Oh, sorry.” He muttered to their other colleagues behind him, quickly pulling out his wallet to pay and grabbing his yogurt cup.
When Harry walked past her table, she figured she was safe. Turns out, he was grabbing a spoon and decided to sit next to the birthday girl, giving her all the unwanted attention.
“So, any birthday plans? Wait, how old do you turn today?” Harry asked cheerfully, genuinely curious.
“Uhm, I don’t really celebrate.” She shrugged, “I’m 28 now, well… I guess technically at 9:47pm.”
“You don’t celebrate?” Harry put his hand over his heart as if she said something offensive. “That’s a shame,” he said quietly, thinking for a moment. “Why don’t you celebrate? It’s your one day of the year.”
“Oh, no reason really. I just don’t really like the attention,” she took another bite of her sandwich. The silence fell between them, awkward as Harry began to eat beside her. The smell of his strawberries and granola filled the air.
“Attention is the best part,” he smirked. “What are y’going to do then?” He asked while he ate scoops of his vanilla yogurt.
“Oh, probably just… sit at home? Watch a movie?”
“Darling, that’s no way to celebrate your birthday.” He argued, shaking his head. “Let’s go out tonight,” he declared without any room for much discussion.
“Oh, I don’t think —,” she started, shaking her head.
“It’s no big deal, I want to. Besides, it’s Friday night and you deserve to go dancing.”
“Dancing? Like… at a club?” She swallowed, eyes wide.
“Yeah, that’s usually where dancing takes place,” he said in a matter-of- fact way. “I’ll send you the details,” he promised, standing abruptly. He hurriedly grabbed his half eaten yogurt. “Don’t you dare flake on me!” He half-yelled across the cafe.
The day went by fast and soon, the sun was setting on the horizon. Back at her shoebox flat, she stood in front of her mirror, tops scattered around her hardwood floor and her duvet. “Shit, I don’t have anything to wear,” she cursed to herself. Holding up an old mini black dress that wasn’t even hers and fit a bit odd, it was her only appropriate option. “Fuck it,” she accepted the defeat and shredded her clothes. “It’s just Harry,” she kept reminding herself.
Harry was the type of person that made everyone feel comfortable. Surely, he was only offering to take her dancing out of pity. While at work, she stuck to herself, answered questions when asked and never caused a scene. Harry was so outgoing and chatty, she recalled when their boss asked Harry to “rein it in,” while going off on a tangent during a company wide board meeting. He could carry the conversation, which was somewhat in her favor. She at least knew the night wouldn’t be boring with him around.
Just as she finished her hair and fixed up her lip combo, her phone dinged with a familiar text tone. Not once but twice.
Harry Styles
— Send me your address, we’ll go together.
— Don’t tell me you fell asleep.
“That would’ve been the easiest way out, hm?” She said to herself, glancing in the mirror before sending her address and a quick text back.
— I’m 28, not a grandma. Buzz 1B when you get here.
After about twenty minutes of contemplating on canceling, she heard the familiar alert of her door. She grabbed her small purse, shut the lights off and walked down the hall to meet Harry. Her heels clicked against the tile as she saw Harry’s tall figure standing outside. She watched as his eyes lit up the second he saw her. As she opened the door, Harry immediately went to her side.
“Fuck sakes, look at you,” Harry grinned. His green eyes scanned the length of her body under the blue night sky, seemingly mesmerized for a few seconds. “Sorry,” Harry corrected himself sheepishly. “You look great!” Harry’s smirk spread wide, making his dimples more pronounced. He held out his palm, offering his hand to her.
“You look… good too,” she complimented quickly in return.
God. Was it obvious how hot her skin was under his gaze?
She could’ve swore he was walking a bit slower to staring at her while they began to walk. She wasn’t used to male attention but despite what she thought, she definitely didn’t mind it from him. He made her feel sexy which felt good.
“Oh, don’t make my ego too big.” Harry smirked, tugging her hand gently as he led her down the busy street towards the station. “It’s not too far, just up on Camden High. Have y’ever heard of it? It’s called KOKO. One of my mates took me a few weeks back.”
“KOKO?” She pretends to retrieve some thoughts. “I don’t think so,” she bit her lip, suddenly feeling a bit out of place, there’s no way she’d know a central London club since she never left her flat for anything other than work and the shops.
And here she was on her birthday with her colleague, holding hands and going clubbing in a dress that barely fit her… but what could possibly go wrong?
“You’ll love it, promise. If it’s shit to you, we can go somewhere else.” Harry promised as they waited for the tube. On the cart, Harry stood directly in front of her as she sat down. She couldn’t help but wonder if his protective nature was just ingrained in him or if it was because of her. Throughout the ride, they made small talk about work and how annoying their boss was about minuscule tasks. Before she knew it, her hand was securely in Harry’s again, pulling her to her feet.
“This is us, love.” His hand moved to the small of her back, guiding her out of the busy London underground back to the pavement. “This way,” he said confidently as he walked. “You got your ID on you?”
“Of course,” she smiled as they arrived at a big, black mystery building with a growing queue. Partygoers stood outside, waiting for their ID to get checked and cover to be paid. When it was their turn, Harry swiftly paid for them both, whispering, “my treat,” before showing their ID’s to the bouncer.
The moment she walked through the double doors, the whole energy shifted. It was quiet but she could feel the bass rising from the floor through her body. Harry guided her with a strong grip on her hand. He pulled her through a pair of big black curtains and she was immediately met with a crowd of laid back individuals waiting for their drinks. As music danced around them, she was mesmerized.
“Want a drink before we head in?” Harry asked, pointing to the bar without releasing her hand.
“Uh,” she thought for a few seconds. A shot would definitely help loosen her up but she wasn’t sure where the night would take them. “Let’s skip it for now,” she half yelled over the loud noise that filled the room.
Harry continued to pull her along, guiding her through a busy hallway until they upped the stairs. “Just up here,” she heard him say as they passed by a group of intoxicated girls. As they climbed, a few men nodded at Harry as they rounded the corner. A large dance floor that stretched across the building came into view. The music was loud, bodies everywhere and the air was filled with a sweet, earthy scent that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but marjiuana.
Without much warning, Harry led her straight into the middle of the dance floor. The dim lights and shadows mixed with the lure of surrounding bodies made her feel so alive. She’d never been in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by so many strangers.
Harry kept her close, digging in his bag for two pairs of sunglasses. He leaned close to her, almost enough to touch lips. “Put these on, will help with the lights.” He pointed to the lasers and strobe lights beaming off the ceiling through the club scene. She felt a bit awkward as she put the generic black glasses over her face but she realized many people were wearing them as well. She could see Harry faintly grin as he started to move with the music. She stood still, watching him for a few seconds — absorbing the moment — analyzing his carefree nature.
“Dance!” Harry half yelled, grabbing her hands to suspend them in the air. “Just feel the music,” he pressed his body closer as she began to move to the techno music, her body was a bit awkward.
“This is crazy,” she tried to yell over the bass, feeling it a bit more. The energy radiated off them, Harry leaned close and whispered. “Yeah, there you go.” Their bodies began to mesh together, her dancing still semi-awkward but more cohesive with the large crowd. “Can I?” Harry’s hands hovered over her hips, cautiously waiting for her approval.
Without much thought, she brought her hands over his. A small smirk fell to her lips as she felt him gently applying pressure. Both their bodies began to flow together as the music changed to something more sensual but still upbeat.
“You’re doing great,” Harry whispered into her ear, his facial hair tickling her skin. “You look great,” she heard him say more firmly as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, half to be close and half out of practicality.
“This is my first time,” she explained, gesturing to the dance floor. “Being somewhere like this.”
“Consider your cherry popped then,” Harry replied cheekily, resting his head near her shoulder, breathing in her fruity scent. “Just let the vibe take you, whatever happens…. Just let it happen, if it feels good,” his hands slowly guided her to turn so, she could lean back against him. His fingers stayed glued to her hips.
The two of them together danced and got lost in the beat for a few songs. Harry leaned down and whispered against her ear, his stubble tickling against her skin once again.
“Happy birthday, angel.” His voice was slightly sweeter and an octane deeper than usual. She felt her cheeks heat up fast as they swayed together like they were the only two in the room. “Having fun?”
“So much, thank you for… this,” her lips brushing his ear as she spoke. “I never would’ve gone out if it wasn’t for you,” she said genuinely to which she earned a big grin and a gentle squeeze from his palms.
When the music changed again, Harry didn’t let her go. They danced through a few songs before Harry guided her to the bar downstairs. Slightly out of breath, sweaty, flushed and desperately needing a drink — Harry kept her close. “Would you like a drink? I think I might get something non-alcoholic.”
“Surprise me,” she smirked.
“Oh. My pleasure, birthday girl. What do you like?” She noticed how his gaze dropped to her lips for a second.
“Something… sweet, maybe with a little spicy kick to it but I’ll do non alcoholic too.”
She stepped to the side as Harry ordered and paid for them both. He returned with their drinks in hand. She carefully took hers, tasting it instantly desperate to quench her thirst.
“Mmm,” she moaned, nodding in approval.
“Good?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Want to head back to the dance floor?” Harry asked. With a quick nod, Harry led them back towards the floor but kept them on the edge near the entrance. It was easier for them to conversate but they still had to lean in pretty close to understand each other. Harry stepped in front of her, forcing her attention towards him.
“Any birthday wishes for 28?” He asked, his voice sounded like honey as he sipped on his drink.
“Maybe… start actually doing more? I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Been a bit more closed off lately and tonight has shown me so much.”
“That’s the hard part, isn’t it? Living when you’ve just been surviving.” Harry said close to her ear.
“You deserve to be celebrated everyday, not just today.” Harry exclaimed, putting his free hand in the small of her back. “I’m really glad you came out tonight.”
“I’m glad too.”
Harry’s eyes fell to her lips again as he licked his own. “Any other big dreams for your 28th?” She mimicked his gaze.
Fuck, how bad would it be to makeout with my colleague?
“Maybe… Not wanting this night to end,” she tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, desperately needing to stop herself from kissing him.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry smirked. His hand pressed more into her back, closing the distance.
His hand left her side, cupping the swell of her cheek. “I know we probably shouldn’t—,” He started but their conversation was interrupted as the crowd roared behind them.
Harry laughed and looked towards the sea of strangers before his eyes landed back on her. He did a simple head shake and smirked, “let’s get back in there, can't have you miss any of the fun.” Harry held her hand snug as he led her back near the middle of the dance floor.
In the middle of the strobe lights and groups of sweaty strangers, Harry tugged her close and grinded his pelvic area against her own. The atmosphere was hot, dirty and intimately theirs.
“Fuck, I’m really trying to be good, angel.” He whispered.
“Yeah?” She whispered back, a surge of confidence and sexual tension flowing through her. “Wonder if I want you a little naughty?” She asked in his ear, letting her lips slowly press against the curve of his neck. Through the bass, countless of stranger and uptempo music — she could hear his whimper.
“Is that a birthday wish?” Harry pulled back a little, his grasp on her waist turning a bit more possessive. “Because I’ll gladly give you whatever you want, love.”
“Whatever I want?” She dared to ask, thinking of a few things she’d love for him to do to her. Most of them invoked him on his knees, a sight she wished to see. “Walk me back to mines?” She suggested, already dragging him out of the crowd of people.
Sex was usual out of love than lust for her but Harry’s words of, “let loose,” and “you’re in your twenties, this is the time to have fun,” clouded her mind. Plus, Harry’s face card and muscular body was the perfect way to end the night. She wasn’t shy to talk about sex with friends but asking for it? Well, that felt greedy and selfish. She wasn’t the type to do hook ups but again, it was her birthday and through her twenty eight years — she’s never had birthday sex.
While they rode the tube back, she finally told him her last birthday wish.
“Okay, don’t laugh. Can I say something?”
“‘Course love, this is a safe space. Tell me anything,” harry promised, rubbing the back of her hand.
“I have one more birthday wish.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I’ve never… “ she started, Harry’s eyes went wide for a second.
“Oh, love. Don’t tell me you never had cake today.”
“No, no,” she laughed, a blush filling her cheeks. “Not that.” She let out a sigh, closing her eyes before cupping her hand, telling Harry to lean in a bit closer to whisper. “I’ve never had birthday sex and I’m not saying it has to be you but I felt like there was a little vibe between us but if you’re uncomfortable then it’s okay —,” she started to ramble with her eyes closed, not able to look at Harry. “And if you go to HR, can you please not tell them that I ask—,” he finally cut her off, his hand resting against her skin as he stole a quick kiss from her lips.
“Sorry, usually I’d ask first but you wouldn’t stop rambling.” He mumbled against her delicate lips that formed a smile under his own. “I’d love to fulfill that wish for you and for fucks sakes,” he paused. “I was hoping you would ask. Now, can I kiss you properly?”
Starstuck, she smiled wide and barely nodded her head before his pink, plush lips were on hers again. The kiss was soft and gentle as if she was the most delicate woman waiting to fall apart. When the intercom announced her stop, reality began to creep in. Harry led her off the cart and back up to the pavement towards hers.
“This isn’t… weird, right?”
“Not if you don’t make it weird,” Harry shrugged, nonchalantly. “Listen, we’re both consenting adults that are coherent and equally enthusiastic… Why shouldn’t we end your birthday on a good note?” Harry explained as they turned the corner. “It can be whatever you want it to be, it’s your wish but know that I’m happily willing to grant it.”
She nearly fumbled her keys as they arrived back at her flat, Harry couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He held her waist, his taller slender figure over hers.
“This is my humble abode,” she announced as she opened the front door. “Make yourself at home.” She was glad she tied up her space the day before.
“It’s cute but I’m not here to judge your furniture,” Harry told her firmly but not unkind. He slowly started to shrug off his jacket, closing the space between them. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
“Would you like some water?” She blurted out as soon as she could feel the temperature of his body near hers. “I have tap or spark—,” she offered
“I’m quite fine,” he mumbled as he leaned down and kissed her shoulder blade.
“Okay, if you change your mind —,” she started but Harry spoke up again.
“It’s okay to be nervous, I’m nervous too.” Harry took a small step back, “do you want to have sex? Because I don’t want to do anything y’ aren’t comfortable with,” He said.
“No,” she sighed, “I mean, yes. I do want to have sex with you. I’m just nervous and worried that it will be weird when we go back to the office…”
There, the elephant was finally out, she thought.
“I promise not to make it weird. Whatever happens here,” he gestures to this space. “Stays here unless y’ tell me otherwise. Again, we two consenting adults who..”
“Who want to have fun and hook up,” she finished the sentence for him.
“Correct.” Harry smirked, closing the gap between them. He took a small peak at his wrist watch on his forearm. “We have a tight schedule to make if you wanna cum before midnight.” Harry joked, cheekily.
Her face reddened but she reached up and kissed his lips without hesitation. She was tired of waiting, acting all shy when all she felt was greed and lust for Harry.
“Want to make you feel s’good,” Harry muttered against her lips. Her brain began to fog up with all the ways he could make her cum, desperately needing a release.
“Please, Harry.” She begged, skimming the clothed muscles along his back to the bottom hem of his shirt. “I want your month,” she blurted out, overcome with desire.
“Yeah? Pretty girl wants my mouth, hm?” Harry asked, looking past her shoulder. He nodded his head in the direction of her bed. “Let’s go mess up those sheets.” Harry led her over, his mouth on her neck as they stumbled to her bedroom. “Bet y’taste so fucking good, so sweet.” She gasped softly when Harry picked her up by her thighs suddenly and sat her on the edge of her mattress. His fingers went to his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” she whispered more to herself. Apparently sunshine worked out and had loads of tattoos.
“Thank you baby but you’re fucking stunning.”
She couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence run through her, eagerly needing his touch. The both of them fumbled with the zipper of her dress, working it down her back and off her shoulders. She was glad she wore a cute matching set in her favorite color, which Harry seemed pleased about too.
“Bloody hell,” he eased to his knees, “lift your hips, angel.” He worked her out of her dress, easily forgotten as his green eyes fell to her flushed skin. “What a treat f’me, darling. Look at you,” Harry smirked, “Can I taste you, baby?”
“Please, Harry.”
Harry was far from timid while he leaned in and took a sniff of her barely clothed, decorated in lace vulva. “Fucking hell, you smell like a dream baby.” His tongue flattened against the lace, tasting the fabric and the arousal that seeped through. Harry whimpered out, closing his eyes in pleasure as he tasted her. His hands held her thighs apart, offering a soothing firm touch to keep her from closing her thighs.
“Fuck,” she cursed and let out a soft moan, as Harry nudged his pointed nose against her.
“Need these off,” before she knew it, the delicate lace was ripped away from her skin and utterly ruined. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones.” He promised sweetly, wasting no time to ease his head between her thighs again.
Harry’s tattoo arms rested against her thighs, holding them open. She tried to study the delicate ink etched into his skin, partly curious and partially to soothe her nerves but the moment his tongue was on her, she couldn’t focus on anything else but pleasure.
“Ooh,” she moaned out. Her hand clasped around her mouth.
Harry was easily better than any man she'd ever been with. His tongue was so skilled with the right amount of pressure and attention to her clit, she figured she orgasm multiple times way before midnight ended. His eyes found hers as he began to suck down on her clit, his moans sending an extra vibration through her. Her hand went to his thick, disheveled hair tugging it for leverage as she grinded her hips on his handsome face.
“Fuck, need to hear you, please.” He begged, his voice turning into a whiny plea. “Please, baby please.”
“Oh, Harry.” She cried out, squeezing her thighs uncontrollably around him. Her body started to heat as the small bubble of warmth formed deep in her abdomen. “Feels so good,” she panted.
“Fuck angel, you’re dripping f’’me. Feed me s’good. Never gonna get enough,” he muttered against her, a little distorted as he continued to suck and lick at her. His fingers gripped her thighs, spreading them open.
Just as she started to squirm, her skin tingled with warmth from the pleasure soaring through her. “Need more, baby, please.” She whined, aching for deep penetration.
“Need more? Yeah?” He pulled back to ask, his face glistening as he accommodated her. “I’ll give you anything baby, what do you want hm? I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need.” Harry pleaded, at her mercy. “Just tell me, baby.”
She wanted to fuck him, oh she wanted to fuck him so bad but Harry must’ve saw the hint of hesitation laced on her face.
“Want my fingers baby? Can I feel how soft you are please? I really wanna feel you squeeze my fingers baby, bet you are s’soft and warm.”
“Oh, God, yes.” She begged, happy he read her mind. “Please, Harry. I want your fingers.” Nothing was sexier than his dirty talk and the sounds of his pleas. Looking down at him on his knees desperately doing anything he could to satisfy her.
“Anything for you,” Harry adjusted his position, sitting up on his knees more, straightening his back. The look of his wet face, dimpled smile that showed his perfect bunny teeth was truly a sight. “Nice and wide for me, doll.”
Harry took his pointer and middle finger carefully down her vulva, collecting the arousal that pooled out of her. His slender fingers worked at the sides of her vulva with a gentle touch as he toyed around her entrance. “Such a pretty pussy,” he complimented. “Are you sure you want this?” Harry asked, hesitating right on the rim of her entrance.
“Yes, please.”
Harry slowly pressed his finger inside her, palm side up. He moaned out loudly as if he was gaining pleasure from the moment himself. “Fucking hell,” he cursed as he watched her reaction.
A soft gasp echoed through the space simultaneously a wet sound from her vagina walls clenching around his finger. Harry bit his lip and shook his head with a smirk. “Oh, I’m gonna love playing with this pussy, my pretty pussy.” His mouth was filthy and she couldn’t even dwell on the fact that he added possession because Harry eased a second finger into her the moment the words fell from his mouth.
“Oh, fuck Harry.” She moaned out, gripping the back of his neck. The sounds coming from her vagina were unlike anything she’d ever heard as he continued to move his fingers. This had to be the most turned on she ever had been. The second Harry curled his fingers against her inner wall, she nearly fell apart, gripping his wrist.
“Oh! Fuck, right there, please.”
“Listen to yourself baby, so fucking perfect. You sound like a perfect angel,” he continued. “Right there, hm? You like my fingers right there?” Harry did a small tapping motion earning a loud, long moan from her.
Harry’s eyes lit up as he watched her face, he was deep in concentration, wanting her to have the most pleasure ever. He whined when he heard her moan again, gripping his hand tightly.
“Harry, Harry,” she urged, “I’m gonna cum,” he pumped his fingers harder, leaning down and attaching his mouth to her wet clit. His pink lips wrapped around her sensitive skin to bring her right over the edge.
“Cum for me, come on. I need it, baby. I need it so bad,” Harry begged, whining as if she was a piece of candy he desperately craved.
As soon as she tightened around his fingers, Harry pushed up inside her and applied all that good kind of pressure that drove her absolutely insane.
“Harry!” She cried out, gripping into his skin. Her mind faded as the orgasm washed over her in completely utter fervor. The air was thick and ripped from her lungs as she fully surrendered to the pleasure he brought her.
“Fuck,” she cursed on the way down, hot and sticky. Harry grinned, proud of himself.
“That was beautiful to see.” He kissed the top of her thigh as he eased his fingers away from her. He brought them immediately up his lips, sucking on the sweet, earthy taste of her arousal. “Mm, can’t get enough.” He said low, shaking his head.
Still a bit dazed, she laid back on her duvet, complete silence filled the air as Harry stood from his knees. She felt the weight of the bed dip as he sat down next to her. “You alright?” He asked.
“Yeah,” she smiled, looking over at him. “Sorry that was just so… good, great actually.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he chuckled. “I’d gladly do it for you one hundred times over.”
When she sat her, still bare from the waist down. She noticed Harry’s large wet spot on his pants. His eye sight followed her own.
“Oh, yeah…” he said softly, a bit embarrassed. “That sorta happened while I was.. uhm,” he didn’t know how to explain that he came in his pants like an inexperienced man. “I jus’ got loads of pleasure watching you and —,” she interrupted him.
“It’s okay, I’m.. flattered.”
He chuckled, “you should be but really, I wanted tonight to be about you. You’re the birthday girl,” he stood to his feet. “Loo? I want to help you clean up.”
“Oh, you’d… you’d do that?” She asked, pleasantly surprised.
“Of course.”
She stood and grabbed some spare clothes from her closet before leading him to the bathroom. Harry stopped at the doorframe, hesitating.
“D-Do you want company? I personally don’t mind,” he muttered quickly.
“Uh, is it… weird?”
“No, it’s not. Plus, I really don’t mind, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” she said quickly.
“Okay,” he smiled and walked through the doorway and shut the door behind him.
“Uhm,” he turned around towards the door to give her a bit of privacy as she used the bathroom and stripped the rest of her clothes. While Harry stood in the corner, he shredded his own ruined jeans and boxer briefs in one go. He turned back around slowly, not embarrassed or ashamed but just vulnerable.
“I can start the shower if you show me,” he said, wanting to make himself useful.
“I got it,” she smiled, turning the dial to warm. Harry washed his hands and peeked through the mirror as she climbed into the stand-in shower. Seconds later, he joined her, closing the curtain behind him. He swallowed hard as she checked out his body with a quick glance.
“Hope you’re not… disappointed,” he whispered into the humid air.
“What, no? You’re beautiful, you look incredible like so incredibly hot.”
“Oh,” he nervously chuckled. “I uh, I was talking about us not having like.. full sex. Since I know you said you wanted birthday sex.” He explained as he put his hands under the water stream.
“Oh, no. That… what we did was fine. I mean, it was amazing. I am… extremely happy with that.” She explained a bit awkwardly.
“Good,” he smiled, stepping a little closer. “I’m extremely happy too. Can I wash your body?” He asked, his green eyes shining into hers.
“O-Oh, of course.” She handed him her loofa with some fruity scented soap on it. Tucking her lips into her mouth as he was very gentle with her, cleaning her body with care. He crouched down to get her legs, letting the water hit the tile fill the space with a relaxing sound. After a few seconds he spoke up again.
“Y’ know, I wouldn’t be against doing this again,” Harry suggested.
“Celebrating my birthday with me?” She smiled as he rose to his feet.
“Yeah, that and maybe… actual sex next time.”
“Oh, yeah… I think we could work that out,” she grinned. “Are you free like… tomorrow?”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Greedy, are we?”
“Well, I would say eager.”
“Are we talking tomorrow, Sunday or tomorrow like today?”
Hi.. can i ask a blurb about harry asking his gf to Live with him in his house even knowing they are not so long together? Thanks 🤎
hello!!! of course you can, here you go;
Twisting the key through the keyhole, you were finally home.
Home wasn't your apartment downtown. Home wasn't your parents house, at least not any more. Home wasn't even this house. Home, was the person that you knew was inside waiting for you to walk through the door.
As always, the first push of the door open Chip came bounding towards you. The tiny black Labrador skid across the tiled floors of the hallway and jumped up in happiness when he saw you. Due to your routine being so scheduled, he always knew what time to be at the door for ready for you to come through.
"Hello again, mister." You crouched down, not even having shut the door yet. Your attention was undivided towards Chip and you didn't mind one bit.
Harry on the other hand was eager to get you out of the bitter cold and in to some place warmer, so he had to cut the fun.
"Chip, c'mere." He spoke firmly, but with an undertone of that softness you knew he always had.
Harry was walking down the corridor and Chips' first sight of his owner made him bound down the other end of the hallway, towards Harry. This allowed you to get in, shut and lock the door.
Before you could get your coat of yourself, Harry took it off for you and hung it up on the rail where all of his other coats were. He did allow you to slip off your shoes by yourself, before you neatly put them on the shoe rack Harry had built for himself - hence why it was lopsided.
Chip was still dancing around both of your feet, as you and Harry got close.
"Welcome home." Harry smiled at you and you ethereal beauty, cupping the back of your neck to bring you closer towards him.
The moment your lips touched his, you were home. They tasted sweet, like roses and sherbet. His lips were the colour of love. Kissing him felt like holding on to your forever. After a busy day of work, he was the only one you wanted to come back to so a forever kiss sounded kind of perfect.
"Mm." You leaned back a bit, letting hit lips go with a soft smack, "That was nice."
"Come home to me every night and that's what you can expect." He whispered, pulling you back for another kiss. This time he didn't care to be smooth, he wanted all of you. He pushed himself as close to you as possible and allowed himself to be immersed in you. Your scent, your taste and your very being sent him into overdrive and he completely lost in his love for you.
You and Harry had only been together for a mere 3 months, but it already felt like a lifetime. A lifetime in a good way. In the way that you couldn't wait to decorate a new room together and buy new furniture together, or book a holiday together and even garden together. Both of you wanted that, but you were also so scared to move in so quickly after first dating.
The "6 months honeymoon period" that everyone goes on about had not finished yet and you would hate for all these amazing feelings to end then, and be bound to living with him forever. You were certain your heart would keep Harry forever and Harry was sure his would keep you, so it was a wonder to everyone why you hadn't already moved in together yet.
Pulling away from him again, you smiled and moved your head to lean in to the crook of his neck. Your arms snaked around his neck too and you made sure to give him a big hug. Your love language was touch as was Harry's, so it was no wonder you two were so smitten with one another.
"You had a good day?" You asked, still pressed to his body in a warm embrace.
"It was okay. I had some people to meet and papers to sign. Y'know, the usual."
You felt his hands rub against your back, warming you up from that outside cold still. One of his warm hands, snuck underneath your jumper and warmed you skin to skin. You sighed at the heavenly contact.
"Sounds boring." You chuckled, saying it truthfully for what it was.
"Too right." He laughed, pulling back from you to meet you eye to eye. "Which is why I made you your favourite dish for dinner, to get me off m'arse and do something useful."
"You made spaghetti lasagne?" The smile on your face couldn't be wider.
"Twice, actually. The first time Chip nearly caught fire."
"I'm not even going to ask." You shook your head and walked in the direction of the kitchen.
The kitchen smelt divine. The smells of tomatoey pasta and garlic bread and cheese was enough to make your stomach full already. It was pure bliss. The dishes looked like they had already been washed and there was just a dish on the side which looked like it had just come out of the oven. Two plates were already set at the kitchen island, where two red wine glasses were poured also.
"This okay?" Harry asked, from behind you.
"Is this okay?" You were lost for words. "Harry, it's perfect. You're perfect." You turned and pulled him towards you so you could gift him a big kiss. He was so taken aback by your forwardness he nearly missed the chance to kiss you back, but he caught you in the end.
"I proper like you, Y/N." He said as he moved back, kissing your nose and your forehead just because he could.
"Well, I proper like you too." You acknowledged.
"Now let's eat. I'm starving." Harry pushed you towards the kitchen island, pulling out the bar stool for you before going over to retrieve the pasta dish.
When he brought it over you could feel the warmth spreading from the dish and the glorious smells only intensified. He next brought over the garlic bread, which he admitted was shop bought because he was no Gordon Ramsay. He kissed you on the top of the head each time he came back over to you, making your heart burst internally over how much you loved him.
"Does Chip have his food?" You asked.
"I fed him just before you came back. The little fella exhausted himself at the park today so wanted food a little earlier."
"You're a good dad."
Harry kissed you on the lips for that comment alone, not caring that it was sloppy and messy.
"I like it when you say things like that." He admitted when you asked him what that particular kiss was for.
At last, Harry came and sat beside you. His knees were touching yours, both of you sat slightly facing towards each other rather than directly forwards. He cut up the pasta dish and handed you a slice of the spaghetti lasagne, whilst you helped yourself to the salad he had made. He had made it without fresh tomatoes too, because he knew that you didn't like them even though he does. Adding a few pieces of garlic bread to your plate you were ready to eat.
"Did you cry whilst cutting the onions today?" You asked.
"Obviously." Harry rolled his eyes, hating how well you knew him sometimes.
You cut up a bit of the pasta and let the sauce hit your tongue first. At first contact you moaned over how good it tasted. It was so warm and tomatoey. It had all the flavours that reminded you of home. It was exactly what you wanted to come home to at the end of a long day and you'd never understand how Harry knew that. You closed your eyes as you ate the first bite, soaking in the pleasures of all the tastes.
"Oh my God, you do treat me good H." You nodded your head.
"Tasty, huh?" He chuckled, eating a mouthful himself and feeling pretty chuffed.
"Tastes just like my grandma used to make it."
"Well I did have to call her after the first one went wrong. She gave me a special ingredient too." He winked, knowing that it would bug you that you grandma gave him the secret ingredient and not you.
You both sat in comfortable silence whilst you ate your meals, neither of you wanting to speak as you enjoyed the food in front of you. Only after you'd finished half of your food did you ask.
"So, what is all of this buttering me up in aid of?" You asked, taking another sip of you red wine.
Harry smirked and shook his head, thinking, again, of just how well you knew him.
"Maybe I just wanted to treat m'girlfriend to one night of comfort food."
"The first time you made me spaghetti lasagne, you asked me to be your girlfriend and the second time was because you had reversed my car into the garage. I don't know which way it's going to swing this time, but lay it on me." You swung yourself round in the stool, facing him fully. He turned the same, wiping his tomato stained mouth with a napkin.
Harry cleared his throat before speaking, "How would you feel about moving in with me? Permanently." He looked at you apprehensively.
"Move in? With you?"
"That's the idea, yes."
"Oh," You cleared your throat this time, "Harry, I..." You answered nervously and unknowingly.
"No, sorry, it's my bad. Forget I asked." Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused at how you couldn't have said yes so quickly. If you had asked him he would have said yes in less than a heartbeat. He turned his chair around, facing entirely forwards so he could finish his dinner.
"Harry..."
"It's fine, Y/N."
"But..."
"I said it's fine." He sharply spoke, before getting up out of his stool and walking over to the fridge to get a cold glass of water that he had been refrigerating. He stayed over there for a bit of time and you wondered whether he was even going to come back, sure that you'd just ruined what was setting up to be a perfect evening.
You got out of your stool and walked over to him, standing directly in front of him. He didn't look at you - his eyes remaining to the floor.
"Harry. Will you look at me please?" You asked, but just as you expected he shook his head in defiance. "I don't not want to move in with you, I'm just scared to." You truthfully told him.
His eyes flickered to yours momentarily, then back, then back to yours again. "Why?"
"I-I don't know whether I s-should say it yet?" You asked yourself more than him, furrowing your eyebrows as you tried to work it out.
"Say what?" Harry asked, looking at you intensely now and already thinking the worst from this situation. Were you about to leave him? Let him know something was wrong? Someone was unwell?
"It's... I.."
"What, Y/N? Say what?" He pressed.
So you burst.
"That I love you!" You shouted out, your chest heaving as you did so from the exhilaration of it all. "I fucking love you and I'm terrified of how strongly I feel that way. I'm terrified of losing you and this feeling. I'm scared that I'll move in with you and never want to find home anywhere else, because home isn't this fucking building and these walls. Home is you, Harry. That's terrifying to me. The thought of waking up and you're not there anymore, scares me more than I care to admit. I'm sorry."
The tears in your eyes couldn't be stopped then. Your whole body shook after your confession, making you feel both free, but also vulnerable.
You didn't know what Harry was going to say or when, but it felt nice when his whole body encompassed yours and hugging you so tightly that you could burst.
"C'mere. Hey, it's okay. You're okay." He repeated.
One of his hands rubbed your back comfortingly, the way he knew you loved, whilst the other cupped the back of your head for support. He made sure you were close to him, so you could feel his heartbeat in effort to help calm you down.
“I’m sorry.” You kept on repeating, feeling like a complete idiot right bow.
“You have nothing to apologise for, baby. Nothing.” He emphasised. “Will you look at me please? Y/N, sweetheart?”
You tilted your head back and Harry’s soft fingers made sure to wipe your tears away. He hated seeing you sad, but he did understand exactly how you felt.
“Are you okay?” You asked softly and Harry chuckled at how selfless you could be in a time like this. You never failed to be amazing and Harry was about two months from getting down on one knee at this point.
Instead of answering your question, he answered with a question of his own. “Do you know why I bought this house?”
“Because it was pretty?” You shrugged your shoulders, guessing.
“No. Because it had a room for a library attached to the master bedroom.” He told you. “And do you know who always wanted a library attached to their master bedroom?”
“M-me.” You whispered, eyes tearing up again.
“Yeah, you.” Harry admitted. “From that first day I met you Y/N i knew that it was either you or no one else. I don’t think it would’ve been fair to anyone else if I was with them, when my heart would always belong to you. That first moment I saw you in that god-awful, worn-out, sweater that you insist on keeping, I was fucking smitten. I already knew then that I wanted you, if you’d have me. Then you just had to have the most amazing fucking laugh I’ve ever heard and I knew my happiness had been waiting on you this entire time.
“That first date, we ended up talking about what we’d love our future houses to look like. You explicitly told me you’d divorce whoever you were with if they didn’t give you a house with a library attached to the master bedroom. The next day, what did I go and do? Buy a fucking house with a library attached to the bedroom. I mean, I was house shopping already so don’t go thinking this was all you, but at least you are part of it. A-and I want you to be a part of it all. I can’t call this house a home when you’re not here, it doesn’t feel right.
“So move in with me. Move in with me so I can love you every tiny second of every day, because I do. I do love you and I want my forever to start with you.”
hiii do you take request? if yes then i‘d love to request a smutshot hehe. so i keep seeing edits of harry with the caption: congratulations to whoever gets to bounce on that 😝 and thought maybe they could be hanging out like her on his lap and she’s ofc scrolling through his fandom twitter and tiktok and she likes his edits and comments and stuff and she shows him those and well one thing leads to another and they fuck and she rides him/ quite literally bounces on that hehehehe
i hope u take request, it’s actually my birthday on wednesday so this would be perfecttt
hi lovely! this is more of a long blurb but i wanted to get it done in time for your birthday. i hope you had/are having the best day ever!!! this one's for you, i hope you like it x
warnings: thirst comments, fingering, one mention of oral (f!receiving), sex on the couch, dirty talk, possessiveness, filthy and a little fluffy
The only sounds in Harry's living room are the television and the occasional soft laugh track drifting from the reruns of Friends he'd put on earlier. The two of you are freshly showered, skin warm and slightly dewy from the steam, utterly relaxed on your full day off together.
You're sitting on his lap on the massive sectional couch, your bare thighs pressed against the fabric of his grey sweats, wearing nothing but a pair of tiny black shorts and his oversized cream hoodie. It smells like him: a mix of laundry detergent, his passion fruit-scented shampoo, and that unmistakable scent of his cologne that always makes you feel safe.
The t-shirt Harry is wearing is thin and well-worn, stretched across his broad chest, and one of his tattooed arms is wrapped loosely around your waist, palm resting possessively on your hip beneath the hoodie. His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder, warm breath tickling your neck every time he exhales, while his other hand loosely holds the remote as he watches the screen with half-lidded, tired eyes.
Every so often his lips brush against the side of your neck or your shoulder in absentminded kisses, soft and gentle, like he doesn't even realize he's doing it. His fingers occasionally trace small circles on your hip, squeezing softly whenever you shift in his lap.
The house is peaceful around you, the city lights twinkling faintly through the large windows, and for once there's nowhere else either of you need to be. You're mindlessly scrolling through TikTok on your phone, the bright screen casting a soft glow over both of you as you tilt it slightly so he can see whenever something funny or cute pops up. You show him a couple of dog videos that make him chuckle against your skin, his chest vibrating under you, and a silly edit of one of his old interviews that has you both grinning. He murmurs little comments in your ear, ''That's ridiculous,'' or ''God, I look tired there,'' his voice low and raspy, lips brushing your earlobe with every word.
You keep scrolling, laughing softly at the endless stream of edits and fan content that somehow always finds its way onto your feed. One particular video catches your eye immediately. The familiar chorus of Father Figure by George Michael starts playing as the clip loads: slow-motion footage of Harry on stage, his body moving under the lights, curls bouncing, that cocky little smirk on his face.
And right there in bold white text across the middle of the screen it reads: congratulations to whoever gets to bounce on that
You can't help the bright, surprised laugh that bubbles out of you. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you tilt the phone more fully toward Harry so he can see it properly. ''Oh my god, Harry. Look at this one,'' you say, voice full of amusement as you press play again and let the slow-motion clip replay, the thirsty caption impossible to miss.
Harry lets out a shy little laugh against your shoulder when the video plays, the sound warm and slightly embarrassed as he watches his own hips rolling seductively on the screen. ''Jesus,'' he mutters, his arm tightening around your waist. But you're already scrolling down to the comments, reading them out loud with a growing smirk on your face.
''His girlfriend is so fucking lucky, can't believe she gets to bounce on that every night,'' you read from the screen, grinning.
A few even tag your username directly, calling you the luckiest girl alive. You feel a possessive little thrill run through you, and Harry must sense it because his shy laugh turns into a cocky smirk that pulls at his lips as he presses another kiss to the side of your neck.
''Well,'' he murmurs, voice dropping to a soft drawl. His chin stays on your shoulder, breath hot against your ear as he reads a few more comments for himself. ''They're not wrong, are they, baby?'' You turn your head slightly, catching the arrogant glint in his green eyes.
The possessiveness flares hotter in your chest and you can't help yourself. ''Exactly. You're mine,'' you whisper, turning your head slightly to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss against his jaw.
The words barely leave your mouth before Harry's grip on your waist turns firmer, pulling you tighter against his chest. A low, approving hum vibrates through his body and into your back.
''That's my girl,'' he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. One of his hands slides down your stomach and slips under the waistband of your tiny shorts, fingers finding you already warm and slick. ''Fuck, you're soaked just from reading thirsty comments about my dick?''
You gasp softly as his long fingers glide through your folds, teasing your entrance before circling your clit with slow, deliberate strokes. His other arm stays wrapped around you, holding you securely against his chest while he starts rocking your hips gently against his growing hardness. The friction is delicious, the soft fabric of his sweats doing nothing to hide how quickly he's getting hard beneath you.
''All those girls wishing they could have me,'' he continues, voice rough and possessive in your ear, ''and here you are, sitting pretty on my lap with my hand in your shorts. And you fucking love it, don't you? You love that this cock is yours whenever you want it.''
His fingers dip lower, sliding one thick digit inside you slowly, then another, curling just right as he pumps them lazily. You moan quietly, head falling back against his shoulder, and Harry takes full advantage, attaching his mouth to your neck and sucking a mark there while his hips roll up to meet your movements. ''That's it, baby. Ride my fingers like you're gonna ride me later,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe. ''Bet all those fans would lose their minds if they knew how filthy you get for me. How wet you are right now just thinking about bouncing on my cock. God, I fucking love you. Your pussy feels like heaven.''
The dirty words combined with the steady rhythm of his fingers have you whimpering, rolling your hips harder against his hand. Harry chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His free hand slips under your hoodie, palming your breast and pinching your nipple as his fingers stroke that spot inside of you. ''So fucking tight around my fingers, baby. Can't wait to feel you stretching around me.''
You turn around in his lap, maneuvering quickly so you're facing him properly, knees on either side of his thighs. It's a little clumsy, your legs tangling briefly in the process, but neither of you cares. The second you're turned around Harry's mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard and deep, tongue sliding against yours with urgent hunger.
His hands grab fistfuls of your ass, pulling you down against his hard cock as you make out messily, hot breaths mingling together. You grind down on him, hands buried in his curls, moaning into his mouth while he groans against yours, the kiss turning wet and filthy.
The kiss breaks only long enough for Harry to trail his mouth down the side of your neck and across your shoulder, open-mouthed and hungry, sucking lightly at your skin while his hands grip your ass firmly. He tugs your tiny shorts down your thighs with impatient fingers, groaning deeply when he feels just how soaked you are.
''Fuck, baby, you're dripping for me,'' he rasps, eyes dark as he pushes against your hips so you sit up on your knees, and dips his head like he wants to taste you right there on the couch.
His breath is hot against your abdomen, but you thread your fingers through his curls and gently tug him back up.
''Not yet,'' you whisper, voice breathy but determined. ''I need you inside me right now, H. Please.''
Harry's eyes flash with heat and he nods, kissing your ear softly. ''Yeah? Greedy tonight, aren't you?'' He nips at your earlobe. ''That's okay, love. I'll eat this pretty pussy so fucking good later tonight. Gonna have you sitting on my face for as long as you can take it, I promise.''
You reach down between you, tugging at the waistband of his grey sweats and his boxers until his cock springs free, thick and hard and flushed. Harry groans as you wrap your hand around him, pumping him slowly a few times, feeling him throb in your palm.
He helps you shift, lining himself up at your entrance. The head of his cock slides through your slick folds, teasing your clit before he finally pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open so perfectly that you both moan loudly into the quiet living room.
''Shit, so tight,'' he breathes, forehead pressed to yours as you sink down onto him. Once he's fully seated inside you, you don't waste any time. You start moving, bouncing on his cock with steady, needy rolls of your hips, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the space between you. Harry's hands stay on your hips, guiding you, helping you keep your balance while you ride him. ''That's it, baby. Bounce on it.''
You're still wearing his oversized hoodie, the hem falling around your thighs and occasionally blocking his view, so he gathers the fabric in one fist and holds it up against your stomach, eyes locked on the sight of his cock disappearing inside you again and again.
''Look at that,'' he murmurs, voice wrecked. ''So fucking pretty stretching around my cock. All mine.'' One of his hands slips under the hoodie, palming your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple as you ride him harder, grinding down deep on every bounce.
You squeeze around him deliberately on the next downstroke and Harry chokes out a broken moan, hips stuttering up into you. ''Do that again,'' he begs, voice hoarse. ''Fuck, squeeze me, baby. Just like that.''
''Yeah?'' you ask, a cocky little smile tugging at your lips even as pleasure makes your voice shake. You clench around him again, watching his eyes flutter and his head tip back against the couch. ''You like that? Knowing I'm the only one who makes you feel this good?''
Harry's grip on your hip tightens as he whimpers a desperate little yes, baby, thrusting up to meet your bounces. ''I'm all yours,'' he promises. ''No one else. Just you, riding me so fucking perfect. My good girl. I'm gonna make you my wife one day, you know that?''
When you start trembling, thighs burning and pleasure coiling tight in your belly, Harry brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight, slick circles. ''Come on, baby. Come for me. Want to feel you falling apart.''
You shatter with a loud cry of his name, clenching hard around him as your orgasm crashes through you. Harry follows right behind, groaning deeply as he spills inside you, hips jerking up with every pulse. He keeps you on him through the aftershocks, arms wrapped tight around your waist, face buried in your neck as you both catch your breath.
Then Harry pulls back just enough to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smirk on his flushed face. He brushes a damp strand of hair from your cheek.
''Congratulations, baby'' he murmurs, voice warm and teasing, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. ''Looks like you won the lottery.''
...
thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕
EXAM STRESS
pairing: current! Harry Styles x fem! reader
summary: you're feeling burned out from your upcoming exam, Harry takes care of you
word count: 2.8K
contains: anxiety, self-doubt, burnout, age gap, comfort and reassurance
a/n: Long time no see, hellooo! I wrote this during this week when I was stressed out from my Cambridge exam and needed a bit of comfort. Not sure how I feel about it but I hope you're gonna like it! Tell me how you're doing, I miss talking to y'all!
click here for ➵ MASTERPOST ⋆˚ ౨ৎ ⋆.˚
comment here to join ➵ TAG LIST ✮⋆˙
ALL MY LOVE AND TPWK, E
You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. Your body didn’t really feel like yours. There was this weird feeling in your bones, chewing on your muscles, running through your skin like electricity. Your eyes felt heavy but you knew it wasn’t from exhaustion. You felt the need to cry but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.
Sitting slumped in the chair in Harry’s study, you mindlessly turned pages in your book back and forth. Sentences blurred together and letters started looking like foreign symbols.
Harry was out running errands. He texted you that in the morning. Right after you made your relationship official, he gave you a key to his house so you could come over anytime you needed. You loved spending time there, his house was big, and Harry claimed you filled the lonely space perfectly. He used to beg you to stay the night almost every other day.
During your exam period, his study became your sanctuary and safe space. He let you lock yourself in and then had to bribe you with cookies and cuddles to take a break after you spent too many hours frying your brain. No matter the many differences between you, from significant age gap to different lifestyle, he cherished you proudly and was your rock exactly in situations like these.
You wrapped your fingers around the fabric of Harry’s hoodie you borrowed in his closet and tightly closed your fists, though the usually calming sensation of the softest cotton didn’t tell you anything. It rather felt like unnecessary weight that was holding you down.
You let out a tired sigh and tilt your head back, resting it against the leather seat. Your eyes fell shut and for once you appreciated the darkness enveloping you.
It wasn’t too long after when you heard the rustling of keys and the sound of the front door closing. Given the muffled sounds, you imagined how Harry was moving through the house. How he most surely threw his trench coat over the back of the couch and went to put away the groceries he bought. How he went to the bathroom to wash his hands and give his growing hair you trimmed a few months ago some shape. How his socks cladded feet thud softly against the stairs with every step, signalling he’s going upstairs.
“Oh baby! What did I do to deserve such a special visit?” You could hear the smile in Harry’s voice when he stepped in the room.
“Mhm hi,” You whispered and blinked your eyes open. Harry was already standing by your side, resting against the edge of the table, and watched you with thoughtful expression.
“Hey,” He murmured softly and reached out to tuck a messy curl behind your ear. “Studying? We’re still not over the exam period?”
The way he said we as if it was his thing too made your heart melt and you jutted your bottom lip out in reaction. Harry knew how rough the last semester was on you. He soothed many mental breakdowns and sleepless nights, fed you when you forget (many times), did skincare with you to make you feel better and took care of you like no one else ever did. And he didn’t mind doing a single bit. He loved to make his girl better.
“Uhuh,” You shook your head as ‘no’ and leaned into his touch on your cheek like a sleepy kitten craving pets. “One more,”
“How long have you been studying?”
“A few hours? I don’t really know, been here since morning,” You mumbled. The clock on the wall seemed to be too loud for your liking, but the small arrow pointed at the number twelve signalled it was noon already.
“And didn’t eat anything, right? Just drank coffee,” There was no point in lying. Harry saw the two big mugs on the desk, now empty but with stains from coffee. “Sweetheart, you know you can’t be running on empty. That’s not healthy for your body. And it won't help you with the studying either,”
“I was planning on grabbing something soon,” You protested with a quiet huff.
“Of course you were,” Harry chuckled but didn’t trust your words at all. He knew his girlfriend all too well at this point.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” You whispered and looked up at him, finally taking him in. He was dressed casually in a pair of beige linen shorts and black sweater, the sleeves now rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattoos.
“What do you mean, baby?” Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. He pulled away from the table and crouched down in front of you, turning your chair slightly to make you face him before he took your hands in his.
“I’m scared I won’t pass… What if- what if there won’t be any good questions? Or I forget everything?” A quiet sob, barely audible left your lips.
“Hey, hey. You will pass. You’re gonna nail the exam, I know that.” Harry cupped your cheek gently in his big palm and wiped away the first tear that was falling down.
“I feel so stupid,” You hiccuped.
“Oh love… Trust me when I say this, you’re the smartest girl I know. So strong, ambitious, my sweet girl,”
“‘M not,” You shook your head again as more tears fell down.
“Then I’m gonna remind you until you’re gonna believe it,” Harry gave you a supportive smile before patting your leg gently and slid his arm under your thighs. “Up you go,”
“Hey! What are you doing? I have to study!” You groaned. Your arms wrapped automatically around his neck in tight hold, as well as your legs around his waist and you let yourself be nursed wherever Harry pleased, the complete opposite of your protest.
“Taking care of my precious girlfriend,” Harry said as if he was talking about the weather. For him this was automatic. Taking care of you, loving you. He cherished these moments wholeheartedly, even when you were grumpy or a crying mess.
Harry made his way in the living room and sunk down in the plush pillows of the couch, pulling you comfortably in his lap. His warmth enveloped you immediately and you snuggled as close as possible.
“You’re taking a break, baby. No studying for another three more hours at least.” He rubbed your hips softly in the soothing motions that he knew could ease some tension and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“We’re gonna get something nutritious and warm in your tummy,”
A kiss to your temple.
“Shower,”
A kiss to the tip of your nose.
“Maybe use the face masks you love so much? I think I still have some from the last time,”
A kiss to your cheek.
“There’s gonna be soooooo many cuddles,”
A kiss to your other cheek.
“And if you’ll be good, I will maybe, and I really mean maybe, revise with you everything you’ve been torturing your brain with today,”
A soft kiss to your lips.
“There’s no way I’m gonna talk you out of this, right?” You mumbled into the wool of his expensive sweater, your head tucked under his chin.
“Nope,”
“I feel weird,” You whispered. The foreign feeling wasn’t entirely gone, you still felt it thrumming through your body.
“How weird, angel? Can you describe it to me?” Harry’s fingers ran through your messy hair, parting the strands gently. He didn’t like the tone in your voice, it made him worry even more about you.
“I don’t know. It’s just so weird,” You started nervously, not sure how to describe something you didn’t have words for. “I feel like my body isn't mine. Feels numb and heavy. And I feel this weird tension too,”
“Mhmm this could be anxiety. No wonder you’re feeling like this, baby, you’re exhausted. Been stressing yourself over the exams so much,” Harry pulled his lips in a thin line and furrowed his brows. He didn’t like it. He hated seeing his girl in pain. Even if it didn’t hurt you physically. You looked as if a truck hit you. So small and miserable.
“I don’t like this,” You felt new tears pooling in your eyes.
“It will stop soon. I will take care of it. Of you. We’re gonna do all I said before, yeah? No stressing or studying,”
“I love you, Harry”
“I love you too, sweetheart. You’re gonna ace the exam, love. You’re my smart girl.”
It didn’t take him long before he moved into the kitchen, leaving you behind on the couch tucked under a fluffy blanket with your favourite TV series on and a chamomile tea coming your way right after to calm your system down. From your place, you had an amazing view at both the bright screen and Harry cooking. You heard sizzling from the stove and a quiet humming of the oven. The smell of chicken and fresh vegetables carried over into the living room and made your stomach grumble, making you realise how hungry you were.
“Love, it’s done,” Harry called from the kitchen while he was plating your lunches with the addition of potatoes.
You moved slowly to the dining table, putting one foot in front of the other felt suddenly like a hard task, your body felt heavy, as if you carried rocks on your back. With a quiet huff, you sank into the chair and give Harry a small grateful smile when he set the plate in front of you. The portion was significantly smaller than his, just a tiny bit of everything to get at least something in your stomach.
“Eat as much as you can, alright? No pressure,”
You didn’t talk much. Only the noises of clinking silverware were audible in the room.
Harry cleaned up everything after you were done with your food. Just a bit of potatoes was left on the porcelain plate. He put everything in the dishwasher and when he was happy with the state of his kitchen, he turned back to you.
“Would you like a shower, angel? It could ease some of the tension in these muscles,” He ran his hands over your arms and then gave them a soft squeeze to feel the tightness beneath the skin. “And then we could get the face mask,”
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” You nodded.
“C’mon” Harry slid his hands down to intertwine his fingers with yours and pulled you up on your feet.
The ensuite bathroom was big and bright. With two sinks and a corner tub you loved to relax in with Harry in the evenings, as well as a huge walk-in shower and more storage space than needed, though Harry always objected that the cabinets are just waiting for you to fill them with your things.
Harry undressed you slowly and with so much care as if you were made out of glass. First his hoodie that was swallowing you whole, then he slid the black skimpy shorts down your legs, kissing each thigh and knee in the process.
“You’re so pretty, baby,” He nuzzled his face in your stomach while he was crouching in front of you.
Your panties and bralette were gone soon and Harry followed the pattern of undressing right after.
“There we go, that feels good, hm?” He murmured in the crown of your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your smaller frame, cradling you close to his chest, as the water cascaded down on the two of you in the walk in shower.
You whimpered but didn’t say anything, just nodded and buried your face deeper in him. He was right. The warm, almost hot water felt incredible on your skin.
“That’s it, just relax. I’ve got you,” He whispered sweet nothings in your ear and you felt his palms run up and down your back in soothing motions, adding just a little bit of pressure to undo the tight knots.
He massaged shampoo in your hair with focused precision until you had a head full of bubbles, dug his nails just lightly in your scalp. You moaned quietly at the feeling.
“This feels alright?” Harry murmured in your wet hair when they were washed and rubbed expensively smelling shower gel in the skin of your waist and back. His hands traveled slowly over each part of your body, memorising every curve and imperfection again
“Feels so good,” You breathed out against his skin. You were putty in his hands, melting with the water.
Harry wrapped you both in the fluffiest towels he owned when you both were washed and smelled like a mix of fruits, flowers and wood. He tapped your skin with another towel gently, wiping all the droplets that were falling down from your hair away.
“That is the cream we use after a shower, right?” He grinned at his need to check, showing you a yellow tube with french text. You used so many creams and lotions and he still wasn’t sure which had to come first and which last.
“Yeah, yeah, and then this one,” You reached for one small bottle out of many on the sink and handed it to him.
If there was one quality of yours that he loved more than the others, it was how much you cared about your body, or at least on the days when you weren't completely exhausted. He learned so many things about skincare from you and even when you weren’t around, he used all the creams you bought him in the morning and before bed. He even learned to use sunscreen regularly, especially after you teased him about the appearing wrinkles by his eyes, something he was always forgetting about before he met you.
“You haven't been using it much lately, have you? Your skin is a little bit dry,” He shook his head fondly as he rubbed the moisture in your skin with his fingertips.
“No,” You pouted.
“My silly girl. Not eating, not taking care of yourself, you’re lucky you have such a wonderful doting boyfriend like me,” He pecked your kiss when he was done with the second cream and cradled your face gently in his big warm palms.
You reached after the opened bottle and put a bit of the cream on your fingers before you smeared it on his forehead, nose and cheeks, carefully dragging your fingers around his moustache and beard.
“Trying to erase my wrinkles, love?” Harry chuckled.
“I like them, they make you look more mature.” You gave him a small smile, one of a few you could muster up today. “But you should use the creams anyway.”
Harry pulled you up in his arms again, one arm wrapped around your back, the other one under your knees, and walked with you in the bedroom, setting you down in the soft cotton sheets in beige colour. He rummaged through the drawers in his walk-in closet, looking for something comfortable for you. You had a good share of clothes in his wardrobe but he knew you preferred wearing articles of his instead. His oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers were enough for you.
“Stand up for me, angel?” He rubbed your shin gently while he was kneeling in front of you, still covered only by the towel loosely wrapped around his waist.
You did as you were told and let him slide his boxers up your legs until they were sitting securely on your hips. He pulled the old hoodie with cartoon characters at the front over your head next, covering your naked body and pressed another kiss to your lips.
Dressing himself in loose sweatpants and an old band shirt, Harry sat down next to you on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your head hit his chest.
“Do you want to lay down here or on the couch?” He murmured in your wet hair even though he knew the answer already.
“Bed,”
“Come on, let’s get you under covers,” The duvet was pulled away and you crawled on your usual spot on the left side of the bed first before Harry joined you, pulled the duvet over your bodies and wrapped his strong arms covered in ink around your small frame, cradling you close.
“Do you want to revise for the exam later? I could quiz you,” He offered softly. Some cooking show was playing quietly in the background, you didn't even notice him turning the TV on. He knew you didn't like complete silence and always had the TV on or played some music.
“No,” You sighed. You really wanted to. Read all your notes and answer all the hypothetical questions you could be asked during your exam. But you were tired. You’ve been studying for days at this point. Your mind and body were screaming for a break. And now laying in Harry’s bed, with him wrapped around you and peppering your face with soft kisses, you knew better.
“That’s a good girl, we’re just gonna rest for a bit. Close your eyes, love,”
“I love you, H. Thanks for taking care of me,”
"Always and forever,"
TAG LIST ✮⋆˙
@escapismatbest @run-for-the-hills @avensgreenvans @angeldavis777 @fkingstyles @kemier1989 @starrylupine @trixilove257
Summary: Y/N hosts her own little radio show. It’s popular enough for her to feel like she’s actually doing something but niche enough that the average person might not know about it. She gives advice on love, lust and all things relationship. But one day a British caller with a gorgeous voice decides to grace her radio show and she realizes maybe she’s the one he’s asking for advice about.
Warnings: mostly fluff, other callers mention their sex lives, mention of positions, swift mention of handcuffs, blindfolds, etc. Some swearing
She looked in the mirror one more time to give herself that little rush of pride. There were days when her hair, outfit and makeup all decided to gracefully fall into place for maximum satisfaction and today was one of those days. She blinked at the mirror again, almost letting out a laugh from how giddy she felt at the fact her lashes had decided to cooperate today.
She knelt down to strap up her heels and then do one more quick look before she should probably get going. Her friend, Becca who acted as a producer with her on this little endeavor always asked her why she got so dressed up. All people would be hearing was her voice. No one could see her. That’s why Becca made the arguably more intelligent decision to just show up in her day job clothes to save time.
But not Y/N. Her favourite part of her life was when she got to leave her office job and make herself look just as pretty as she wanted that specific day without feeling silly because she had an occasion. She pulled on her coat and made sure to grab her purse before rushing out the apartment door and down the stairs.
Becca was lounged on her chair, pizza slice in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey.”
“Hi! I’m early today, see?” Y/N pointed out.
“And I’m early every day. You look great though.”
She felt herself light up as she took off her coat and sat in her chair. That chair. The one she’d learnt to associate with relaxation and happiness. Y/N had always been chatty. Chattier than Becca so their friendship usually operated in a way where Becca would listen as well as handle the behind the scenes and she would talk.
Both of them were quite pleased with that arrangement and saw no need to change it. The need was actually to enhance the experience for both of them and divide Y/N’s plethora of interesting thoughts to the whole population rather than just Becca’s ears.
That’s how they got here. Their own little radio show. She absolutely loved it. Becca would handle the production aspect of everything and she got to live her dream, multiple people ringing in each night just to talk to her! About their love lives. What could be better?
She got comfortable in the chair where she had heard hundreds and hundreds of love stories from strangers and cleared her throat giving Becca a signal that she was ready. Becca smiled and nodded at her.
The show started and she gave her usual introduction before giving people the opportunity to call in. Becca gave her a thumbs up and connected an anonymous caller to her. Y/N knew how to make her voice a little sultrier. Not for the people. Just for the radio. Like she was trying to impress her microphone. She enjoyed it so much, it was on the verge of putting on a sexy, fun character while still being herself.
“Welcome to Midnight Lines, I’m your host. What seems to be your love conundrum tonight?”
“Uh-hi. So I’m a woman. And I have this guy. He’s beautiful. Like a model. But he travels a lot so we agreed to keep it casual. Very on and off.”
“I see.” She replied, smiling and leaning forward on the desk as she listened for more.
“The sex is fine. Like not mind-blowing but it’s not bad. But he leaves so often.”
“Aw. So you wish he wouldn’t leave you so much?”
“Kind of. I just feel like there’s so much chemistry when he comes back from all his trips but then we start fighting and I just can’t wait for him to leave again.”
Y/N leans back in her chair, “well, there’s gonna be fights occasionally, that’s unavoidable.”
“Yeah…”
“But you know what? Some people just like to make dramatic entrances when they’ve got nothing to fill in the rest of the show with. And it sounded like the sexual aspects of your lover aren’t anything to write home about.”
Becca made a face saying, “I agree.” as she chewed on her pizza slice.
“And if he’s making you unhappy to the point you want him to leave every time he comes home then well I think we know where you stand, maybe he’s not the right one, hon.”
“Really? I just feel like I get used to him not being here and then just don’t like living with someone else.”
“Well then that’s where you are in life right now and you don’t have to be sorry about that. I still don’t think a guy who makes you wish he was gone when he’s there is worth it.”
“Maybe you’re right. Now that I think about it, the only thing that excites me about him is when I know he’s about to come home.”
“Ah because you build up a fantasy of the big, steamy and passionate reunion and it never happens?”
“…yeah.”
“Mm. Well why settle for a man who only fits the beginning of your desired love story? Go all the way and find one who can give you the rest of it.”
The woman on the other line is quiet for a bit before she agrees and wraps up the conversation. Y/N looks back at Becca for confirmation that the call is done then speaks again to her viewers. “The floor is open, loves.”
The next caller is a man. He sounds like he leads a miserable life, his voice is quiet and dreary.
“Hey, so I’m an accountant… have been since I was um… 21. I’ve got a girlfriend.”
“Okay.” She smiled, leaning forward and taking a little moment to appreciate her nails before her attention shifted back to the caller.
“I just feel like my life isn’t the most… adventurous so sometimes I wanna compensate in bed by trying new things.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah but I don’t know how to tell her the things I wanna do. Some of them are a bit out there and I don’t want her to stop liking me.”
“Well if she really likes you then she wouldn’t stop liking you just for asking if she wants to do something. Now if she says no and you keep pushing, that’s a different story. But there’s no harm in proposing something.”
“I-I’m not really the best at talking to people.”
“I know speaking about sex sounds really scary especially because you don’t want your partner to see you as weird or kink shame. But honestly, sitting someone down and gently talking about something usually does go well.”
“You think? Do girls like that stuff? Handcuffs, blindfolds and all that?”
“Are you asking if I do? Because that’s the only question I can give you a definitive answer to. All girls really aren’t the same. Some do and some don’t. But it’s not an extreme fantasy. Loads of people use handcuffs and blindfolds.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. Thanks for helping me out there.”
“That’s why we run this show,” she said with a tone that allowed the listeners to hear the smile on her lips.
A few callers later, she was about to wrap up when someone called in. Becca looked at her, silently asking if she wanted to take one last one. Y/N shrugged. Why not? She nodded at Becca to put them through.
“Hi, how can we help your love life at Midnight Lines?”
The caller took a moment to answer. But when he did, oh she was glad he did. He had a deep, beautiful voice. The kind that’s low enough to cause vibrations through you if you heard it in person but soft enough that you felt comforted by it. The British accent surrounding it only made her happier she’d chosen to take the last call.
“Hello. I take the train every day. I always see a beautiful woman. She’s gorgeous. She stands in the same spot of the train every day, unless there’s a seat available. Then she… lights up as she sees it. I always hope no one sits there when I see it as I get on. Just to see her get on at the next stop and her eyes scan the train and widen slightly with happiness when she sees it.”
Y/N freezes. She doesn’t know if he meant to go on as much as he did. Usually people on here who would call about someone theyre not dating but like just go off of there appearance. Or things they find sexy about their personality, even. But never something so casual in such great detail.
“That-that’s lovely. So I assume you want to talk to this woman?”
“So much. I always try to give it a go but it’s so quiet because we take it really early so nobody’s in a chatty mood. So, if she were to say no or really not want to talk to me then everybody would hear. And it would just get really awkward.”
“Ah…okay yeah. I get that. It’s scary trying to talk to people you really like. Are you willing to give it a go? Or did you just want to rant a bit?”
“I think I would like to give it a go. I’m just not really sure how. She doesn’t know me and I don’t want to come across as creepy. I honestly just want a few moments of her time. Even if she’s not interested in me romantically, I’d love to just talk to her. Find out a little more about her.”
“That’s so sweet. I’d say if you’re stuck, go traditional. There’s a reason why so many people buy flowers and chocolates for people they love, it works. Nobody dislikes receiving a bouquet or something sweet to get them through the day. Then once you get to know them you can work on making it more personal.”
“So you think flowers won’t be too much right?”
“Yeah. Maybe not a bouquet of sultry red roses if you wanna be safe. But just a mix of a few flowers would be a lovely thing to do. Some peonies, baby’s breath… you know?”
“Right. That sounds nice. How would I give them to her? Just… hand them to her one day?”
“If you don’t want to do it on the train you could always get off at her stop and then walk the distance to yours if it’s not too far. Or wait for the next train. Just walk up to her and say hey I think you’re really pretty and I’d love to get to know you better. Offer her the flowers gently.”
“And that won’t come across as weird?”
Y/N chuckles, “hopefully not. It depends on the sort of person she is but I know I wouldn’t mind getting a bouquet first thing in the morning from a sweet guy on the train.”
“Thank you so much, I guess I was just looking for some confirmation of what works.”
“No problem. It’s what we set this up for. I hope you get the girl, call to check in if you want later!”
“Will do. Thanks again.”
While packing her stuff, Y/N turned to look at Becca, trying to see if the last man had the same effect on her. Becca seemed neutral enough.
“What’s wrong?” Becca asked.
“What did you think of the last caller?”
“The train guy? I don’t know. Sounded sexy right?”
“Mhm. But I mean. Did you hear what he was saying? Most of the people-men especially who call on here just wanna fuck a girl. I wasn’t expecting such a mellow request.”
“Yeah I guess you’re right. I mean he sounded sweet as hell. I hope the train woman likes the flowers.”
“Mm.”
The next morning hit her hard. The night had gone by so wonderfully after the conversation with that man. He sounded so… beautiful. Just by his voice she could tell he must be attractive. She just had a gut feeling. But as well as that, she didn’t find herself jealous that he liked another woman. Just happy that she was able to bring together this man and whoever he’s trying to get with.
She yawned as she pulled the heavy coat over her shoulders. It was the same one that she had put on last night but it seemed to have gotten drearier overnight. The consolation that she would get to do her show all over again soon was the only thing that gave her the strength to pick up her bag as she trudged out the door.
It was cold this time of year and right now considering everything about her work life, love life and everything in between, the dull sky and constant chill seemed to be pathetic fallacy. She bought her train ticket at the bureau and waited by the edge with her usual crowd.
A man who would always get off at the second stop then ride home with her as well. A woman who would get on the morning train but she wouldn’t see her again for the rest of the day. She saw new faces as well. A group of teenage friends probably going into the city for some shopping and a day out.
She got on the train and looked around to see if any seat was free. Nope. She sighed as she went over to stand in her regular spot, adjusting her scarf. She nodded and smiled politely at the man she saw every day. The tall one with the curly brown hair. He would always stand opposite her on the train but maintain a respectful distance.
She never saw him get off or on the train so she assumed his first stop was earlier than hers and his last, later. He was a calming prescence on the train. She’d seen him give up his seat multiple times to people who needed it more with nothing but a smile and a polite hand on his heart while reassuring them that it was no trouble.
Now that she thought about it his voice sounded familiar. Maybe somebody she’d seen on TV sounded similar. That wasn’t what she was thinking about right now, though. Right now the only thing that occupied her brain was the man from last night. Maybe he would be on a train right now, looking at the woman he likes, holding a bouquet in his hands, wondering if she should give it to her.
Coincidentally, when she looked down at her train man’s hand she saw something tucked so it was being covered by one of his legs but she could make out that it was suspiciously shaped like a bouquet and she knew it for a fact when she saw the baby’s breath peaking out.
How funny. Two men however many miles away from each other holding a bouquet on a train. Maybe for the same purpose. Maybe a different one. She knew the stop after her one was the one where there was a hospital a really short walk away so perhaps he had someone he knew who was unwell and wanted to bring some comfort.
Her stop began to approach and soon the thought of both the men was out of her mind as her thoughts drifted to the hell that was her office job. Maybe today her boss would decide he wasn’t going to be such a prick and just be normal just for one day. Unlikely.
Or maybe Tina from HR would talk about something other than her boyfriend in the, “political field”, who apparently knew everybody there was to know. Also highly unlikely.
All in all, she hoped a borough of unlikely things opened itself of the world today whether it was her caller’s crush falling head over heels for him when she properly noticed him for the first time or Tina gaining some sense. But she’d have to wait and see. She quickly looked around to make sure she hadn’t put anything down that she should take with her and then headed off the train.
But she felt a presence and an enveloping aroma of vanilla and sandalwood behind her as she saw the curly-haired man getting off with her, his trench coat billowing slightly giving him a gorgeous silhouette.
“Ma’am!” He said a little louder than he intended so he brought his volume back down.
“Yes?”
He held the flowers forward for her and spoke, “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you but I would love for you to have these.”
“Oh? They’re very beautiful thank you. But… I’m sorry do I know you from somewhere?”
“No no. You don’t know me. I just see you on the train every day and I-just think you’re very beautiful. I’d love to get to know you better.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’m not even necessarily asking you on a date just… to get to know you a little better.”
She froze. The words he was saying were the exact ones she’d heard the man from last night say. Was she the train woman he was talking about? Now that she thought about it his voice sounded exactly the same too.
She slowly took the flowers, her face still frozen in thought of last night but he misunderstood and thought she was judging him.
“I’m really sorry if this came across as random or… out of the blue. I was never trying to make you uncomfortable and I can leave right now if you’d like. But I just thought it was worth a shot. If nothing more I’d love to be your friend.”
“No not at all this is lovely. I’m sorry I just had something else on my mind. Why don’t I give you my number? I need to get going right now but I’d love a chat later.”
“Yeah that’s amazing. Thanks so much.”
She watched him look back at the train, seeing if it was still there but then his shoulders deflated as he saw that it wasn’t, getting ready to just walk the way to his stop rather than wait for another. He started walking away, his boots making a satisfying click sound on the ground.
Was he really the guy from last night? And was she really the woman who had made him say such wonderful things about her?
She felt an uncontrollable, real smile creep up on her. She managed to suppress it a tiny bit with the help of thinking about her job but she still had a little sparkle of joy for the rest of the day.
When she got home that night she looked at his number and scrolled through the few messages they’d exchanged already. He was asking her out to dinner now. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to go out with him but should she tell him that she was indeed the radio show host?
She texted back, “7 on Saturday is great. I’ll text you my address.”
“Sounds wonderful.” He texted back.
“Random question?”
“Yes?”
“Are you planning to talk about my dinner plan agreement on a certain radio show tomorrow night?”
He didn’t reply for a bit. Not like he went offline to avoid her but like he genuinely just sat there with his fingers frozen at the keyboard of his phone, poor guy probably relaxed and just about to go to sleep.
“Which show?”
“It’s called Midnight Lines I believe.” She texted back, smiling to herself.
“God. You listen to it?”
“I’m related to it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I might know the woman who runs it.”
“What??”
“Seriously.”
“Okay I mean yeah. I went on there. I didn’t know who else to ask. My friends are dicks, they don’t know the first thing about asking a woman out… politely.”
“So you went on a radio show where the most discussed topic is sex positions?”
“The woman who ran it seemed friendly. I feel like she’d give genuine advice. How’d you know her? Is she a friend?”
“She might just be me actually.”
“You joking?”
“Nope.”
He didn’t reply for a while. Then her screen lit up with the three dots again.
“So I managed to ask you how to ask yourself out?”
“At least you know there would be no one who gives better advice.”
“Should I keep calling then? If this goes further?”
“You could just… you know text me.”
“Yeah but where’s the fun?”
The night passed just like that and it seemed like many more did too. Too many to count it seems because when she least expected it one night her boyfriend called into the radio show again. Becca sat up as she recognized Harry’s voice too now from knowing him for quite a while.
Y/N didn’t know whether to acknowledge she knew him. “Yes? How can we help you today?”
“So I have this girlfriend. She’s gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
She smiled but continued for the sake of playing it off like a regular call, “I see.”
“And I need to know whether my anniversary present for her would be a good one or not.”
“Mm. Okay. What did you get her?”
“I don’t know if I can say. She apparently tunes into this.”
“Does she?”
“Yeah. Related to the show very closely.”
Y/N looked at Becca who just chuckled to herself and went back on her phone. Harry spoke up again.
“So if she is listening, just know it’s on your bed when you get home, love. And I think I’ve gotten to know you well enough that it’s personal. And I can finally get you roses. I don’t need the safety blanket of platonic baby’s breath.”
Summary/Author's Note: After much demand, please enjoy part 2 of WYKYK, where Harry and his assistant ...Harry’s longtime assistant finds out he’s engaged through the internet after months of blurred lines, bad boundaries, and feelings neither of them ever fully acknowledged.
Due to popular demand, here is part 2 of the engagement one shot. I know a lot of people were expecting a big romantic ending, but the more I wrote this story, the more it stopped feeling like a romance and started feeling like a story about consequences, heartbreak, friendship, accountability, and two people trying to navigate the aftermath of a really awful situation. I hope you like how I've concluded it.
And yes, before anyone asks, Harry is still a bit dumb in this one.
Genre/Warning: Very angsty. Yearning. Miscommunication, hurt feelings and consequences. Nobody is getting out unscathed.
Word Count: 13.8k
Masterlist: Here
The thing Harry hadn't anticipated was that losing someone didn't always look dramatic. Sometimes it looked like everything continuing exactly as normal. That was somehow worse because from the outside, nothing had changed.
Tour prep was running smoothly. The Amsterdam residency was on schedule. Production meetings were happening on time. Transport was organised. Wardrobe was organised. Security briefings were organised. Every hotel room for the crew was booked correctly. Every credential was accounted for. The machine was running perfectly. And she was the reason why.
The trouble was, Harry had spent so many years relying on her that he hadn't realised how much of their relationship existed in the spaces between the work. It wasn't the schedules he missed. It wasn't the emails. It wasn't the logistics. It was everything else.
The way she'd wander into a room and immediately know if he was overwhelmed before he'd worked it out himself. The way she'd tell him when an idea was stupid without anyone getting offended. The way she'd laugh at him when he deserved it. The way she'd somehow become the person he looked for first after every show, every interview, every stupid little moment that happened throughout the day. Now all of that was gone.
She still spoke to him. That was almost the problem. Because she wasn't angry anymore. Anger almost would have been easier because anger still meant he had access. This was something else. She was polite. Professional. Competent. Careful. Pleasantly unreachable. Every interaction was reduced to exactly what was required.
"Your car leaves at eight."
"The venue moved soundcheck forward."
"You've got an interview in twenty."
"Jeff needs your approval on the visuals."
Never rude. Never cold. Never anything he could reasonably complain about. And yet Harry found himself standing in rooms after she'd left them feeling strangely abandoned. Like he'd arrived somewhere two minutes too late. Like he'd missed a conversation he desperately wanted to be part of.
Sometimes he'd deliberately try extending interactions. Nothing obvious. Just stupid little things.
"How was dinner?"
"Did you ever call your sister back?"
"How'd the interview go?"
And every time she'd answer politely. Every time she'd smile. Every time she'd somehow end the conversation within thirty seconds and move on. It was like trying to hold water in his hands. And the worst part? She wasn't doing it to punish him. If she had been, maybe he could've argued. Maybe he could've fought. Instead, he had the horrible suspicion that this was simply what happened when somebody stopped trusting you with themselves.
The assistant interviews had become their own version of hell. Mostly because Jeff hated everyone. Every candidate was somehow wrong. Too inexperienced. Too nervous. Too corporate. Too eager. Too passive. Too disorganised. Too organised. At one point she'd genuinely started wondering whether Jeff was inventing reasons. The latest rejection had happened in a hotel conference room overlooking one of Amsterdam's canals.
The candidate had actually seemed good. Calm. Professional. Experienced. Exactly the sort of person she'd hire herself. The second they'd left, Jeff had rubbed both hands down his face. "No."
She stared. "What do you mean no?"
Jeff pointed toward the closed door. "No."
"That's not feedback."
"It's enough feedback."
"Jeff."
"He doesn't fit."
"What?"
"Whatever."
"Why?"
Jeff groaned. "I don't know."
"You absolutely know."
"I just know."
She leaned back in her chair. "Are you trying to keep me?"
Jeff immediately looked offended. "No."
The speed of the answer made her suspicious. "Jeff."
"I'm serious."
"Then what is it?"
He sighed heavily. Then looked out the window. Finally he said quietly, "You're making me realise how hard your job actually is. Or how much better you are than everyone else."
That caught her off guard because Jeff wasn't usually sentimental.
"You know Harry better than anyone." She looked away. Immediately. "You anticipate problems before they happen."
"That's called experience."
"No," Jeff said. "That's called you."
Silence settled between them. And she hated how much those words affected her. Because they touched something she hadn't been letting herself think about. The awful and humiliating truth. The truth she'd buried underneath all the heartbreak.
She didn't actually want to leave. Not really. That was the worst part. Because everyone kept acting like her resignation was some brave decision. Some empowered choice. As though she'd dramatically stood up for herself and walked away. When really? She'd been cornered. What exactly were her alternatives? Stay? Watch him build a future with someone else? Plan his engagement dinners? Schedule his holidays? Listen to him talk about wedding venues? Smile through it? Pretend she was okay? She couldn't do it. But that didn't mean she wanted to leave.
This had been her favourite job. These people had become her family. She was good at it, really fucking good at it. And some nights, lying awake in an unfamiliar hotel room, she found herself getting angry all over again. Because why was she the one losing everything? Harry still had the career. The friends. The team. The future. And she was the one quietly packing up her life. It felt profoundly unfair.
The day before opening night arrived far too quickly. Amsterdam buzzed outside the arena. Some fans camping out early. Inside, everyone was operating at maximum stress, which suited her perfectly.
Busy meant distracted. Distracted meant less thinking. Less thinking meant fewer opportunities to remember that Jade Monroe existed somewhere in the building.
Because yes. She'd been avoiding her, okay? Shamelessly. Professionally. Masterfully. Not enough to raise suspicion but just enough to keep distance. If Jade was expected at catering, she'd suddenly need to check lighting. If Jade was backstage, she'd mysteriously have production notes to review elsewhere. It was ridiculous. Juvenile. She knew it was completely beneath her and yet she'd managed three entire days without a proper interaction.
Unfortunately, she wasn't nearly as successful at avoiding thoughts. Those showed up whenever they wanted. She was halfway through reviewing transport schedules when Jeff appeared out of nowhere.
"Problem."
She didn't even look up. "What kind?"
"The bad kind."
That got her attention. He handed her his phone. She scanned the screen. Then closed her eyes. A major credentialing error. Two trucks. Three countries. Missing paperwork. The sort of logistical nightmare capable of derailing half a production day.
Jeff looked grim. "What do we do?"
She stared for exactly three seconds. Then reached for her phone. "Give me twenty minutes."
Nineteen minutes later it was solved. Three calls. Two emails. One favour from someone she'd worked with three tours ago. Done.
Jeff watched the final confirmation arrive and then looked at her. "I hate how good you are at this."
She smiled slightly. "That's because you usually only see the disasters."
For the first time all day, she found herself with nothing immediately demanding her attention. A rare occurrence. The arena was mostly empty except for crew and rehearsal staff. Music echoed through the cavernous space. And without really thinking about it, she wandered down toward the front of the stage.
Harry was rehearsing. The full lighting rig was running. Screens and stage illuminated. The scale of it all still managed to impress her. He moved through the space like he'd been built for it. Like every nerve in his body suddenly knew exactly where it belonged. And despite everything. Despite all of it. She still felt proud, that was the infuriating thing. She still wanted him to succeed and wanted the shows to be incredible. Still wanted fans to walk out talking about how amazing he was. That made everything harder. Because it would've been so much easier if she hated him.
The song ended. Harry laughed at something one of the band members said. Then hopped down from the stage. Sweaty. Slightly breathless and happy. And before she could talk herself out of it, she walked over.
Professional. Simple. Nothing more.
"How are you feeling?"
He looked surprised she'd initiated the conversation. "Uh. Good, I think."
She nodded. "Everything feeling alright?"
"Yeah." Another pause. Already awkward. Mostly from him. Never from her anymore.
"We'll probably wrap in about an hour," she said. "Then head back to the hotel."
He nodded. "Right."
A few months ago they would've filled ten minutes without trying. Now they stood there like strangers.
"So..." Harry said. Then stopped because he clearly didn't know where he was going.
She waited. Patiently. Professional. "Do you need anything before I head back?" she asked.
And there it was again. That distance. Like she'd already begun removing herself from his life piece by piece. Harry looked at her for a long moment. Long enough that she started wondering whether he'd heard the question.
Finally he said, "No."
His voice came out quieter than he'd intended.
She nodded once. "Okay." Then she smiled. Small. Polite. The same smile she'd been giving him for weeks. And somehow it hurt more than the screaming ever had. "Good rehearsal," she said.
Then turned and started walking away. Leaving Harry standing beside the stage. Watching her disappear back into the machinery of the tour. And realising, with a sinking feeling he still hadn't fully learned how to name, that he missed her most when she was standing right in front of him.
──────────────
The strange thing was that Amsterdam was exactly the sort of city Harry should have been enjoying. That thought kept occurring to him throughout the afternoon. The canals. The narrow streets. The late summer light reflecting off the water. The fact that, for the first time in weeks, there wasn't an immediate rehearsal to run to or a production meeting waiting around the corner. The day before opening night was always strange. Months of preparation suddenly gave way to a few hours of stillness, and nobody quite knew what to do with themselves.
Especially Harry because stillness had never really been his friend. He and Jade had spent most of the afternoon wandering without much of a plan. Stopping in little shops. Grabbing coffee. Taking pictures of things neither of them would probably look at again. It should have felt nice. And it did, mostly. That was the problem. Mostly.
Jade was funny. Easy to be around. Smart in a way that constantly surprised him. She had a habit of making observations about people that were so accurate they bordered on frightening. She challenged him. Made him think. Made him feel grounded in ways he hadn't always felt before. So why did he feel like there was a stone sitting in the middle of his chest?
The answer annoyed him because he already knew it. Or at least he was starting to. The realisation had been arriving slowly over the past few weeks, like water wearing away rock. Not all at once. Just little moments. Little absences. Little losses.
The thing was, he missed her. And the more he thought about it, the more complicated that statement became. Because he didn't miss her in the way everyone would assume, or maybe he did. He wasn't entirely sure anymore.
He missed talking to her. Missed the ease. Missed the fact that she used to fill every spare corner of his life without him ever consciously noticing. Now every interaction felt measured. Professional. Like she was talking through glass. And for the first time in years, Harry was realising just how much he'd relied on her. Not because she was his assistant. Because she was her.
"Harry." He blinked. Looked up. Jade was staring at him, amused. "You didn't hear a word I just said."
"What?"
She laughed. A proper laugh. "Oh my God, you actually didn't."
"No, I did."
"You didn't."
"I did."
"What did I say?"
Harry opened his mouth. Then immediately closed it again.
Jade pointed accusingly. "See?"
He rubbed a hand across his face. "Sorry."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing."
"That's a lie."
They continued walking along the canal. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Jade bumped her shoulder lightly against his. "You nervous about tomorrow?"
That was probably the easiest answer. And maybe part of the truth. "Yeah."
She nodded. "I figured. First show."
"First show."
He looked out across the water. People drifted past on bicycles. Tourists sat outside cafes. The city felt entirely unconcerned with his personal crises. Lucky fucking city.
"You'll be amazing tomorrow."
Harry smiled faintly. "Thanks."
"You always are."
He looked over at her. She smiled back. And for a second he felt guilty because she was standing right here. And his mind was somewhere else. With someone else.
Jade studied him for another second. Then asked quietly, "Everything okay?"
The question landed differently because it wasn't really about the show anymore. Harry hesitated just long enough for Had to notice.
"Harry."
"I'm fine."
Another lie. A softer one. But a lie all the same.
Jade slipped her hand into his. "You're allowed to be stressed."
"I'm aware."
"Just making sure." A small smile, then she squeezed his hand. And they kept walking.
Dinner was scheduled for seven. Nothing formal. Just a pre-show gathering. The crew crew of the band and management. A few production people. The kind of dinner that happened before every major tour leg. A little celebration to get out that nervous energy. A reminder that they'd all somehow survived another impossible production schedule.
By the time Harry and Jade arrived, most people were already there. The restaurant buzzed with conversation. Laughter. The clink of glasses. The familiar chaos of tour people finally sitting still for five minutes. Harry greeted people automatically with hugs, handshakes, jokes. The usual. But his eyes were already searching before he'd even consciously realised it. Scanning the room. Looking for... her. And then he saw the empty seat near the end of the table.
His stomach did something strange. Because obviously she should be here. Why wouldn't she be here? This was her crew too. Her people.
Harry found himself glancing toward the restaurant entrance. Once. Then twice. Then a third time.
Nobody else seemed concerned. Drinks arrived and menus appeared, and there was still no sign of her. Eventually Jeff slid into the seat beside him already looking tired. Harry barely waited ten seconds. "Where is she?"
Jeff immediately looked amused. "Took you less than a minute."
Harry ignored that. "Seriously."
Jeff reached for a glass of water. "There was a problem."
Of course there was. There was always a problem.
"What kind?"
Jeff laughed. "The kind that makes me grateful she exists."
"She'll be here?"
"Maybe."
Harry looked over. Jeff was still drinking his water. He seemed completely casual. Too casual.
"You don't think she will."
Jeff set the glass down. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. "Honestly? No." Jeff sighed. "There was some transport issue with one of the support teams."
"Is it fixed?"
"Probably."
"Then why isn't she here?"
Jeff gave him a look. The kind of look that made Harry instantly regret asking. Because he already knew. The transport issue wasn't the reason, it was simply the excuse. The acceptable answer. The convenient answer. The professional answer. The real answer sat underneath it.
She didn't want to be here. Not really. Not if she didn't have to be. Not if she had a choice.
There had once been a time when she would've been the first person through the door. The loudest laugh at the table. The one teasing the band or stealing food off people's plates. The one rolling her eyes whenever Harry got too much attention.
Now? Given the choice... She'd rather stay somewhere else. Away from him. Away from whatever seeing him and Jade together might feel like. And suddenly the empty chair became impossible not to look at.
People kept talking around him. Someone told a story about rehearsal and then the band started arguing about a setlist change.
The evening carried on exactly as it was supposed to and yet Harry found himself glancing toward the door anyway, every few minutes without meaning to, without thinking. The seat remained empty and somewhere deep down, beneath the frustration and confusion and guilt he'd been carrying for weeks, another feeling finally started taking shape. It wasn't jealousy or regret. It wasn't even heartbreak. It was something worse, consequence. Because for the first time since all of this started, he wasn't looking at what he'd lost, he was looking at a choice she was actively making. A choice to be somewhere else, a choice to stop showing up for him unless she absolutely had to.
And sitting there surrounded by people, with Jade beside him and opening night less than twenty-four hours away, Harry found himself staring at an empty chair and understanding something he'd been avoiding for weeks. She wasn't pulling away, she was already gone and he just hadn't caught up to it yet.
──────────────
The knock came at half past eleven. It wasn't loud but persistent, three knocks followed by three more. She stared at the hotel room door from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, creaming her legs. For a moment she genuinely considered pretending she wasn't there because she already knew who it was. Nobody else knocked like they expected to be let in, nobody else would be standing outside her room this late.
She closed her eyes briefly, sighed and then stood. Immediately hating herself for standing. The walk to the door felt longer than it should have and when she opened it, there he was. Hands shoved into the pockets of a hoodie, hair a mess, looking strangely uncertain.
For a split second neither of them spoke and then Harry finally cleared his throat. "Sorry."
Her stomach dropped. Not because of the apology but because he knew this wasn't going to be good.
"What do you need?"
He glanced down the corridor and then back at her. "I need help with tomorrow."
Her brain immediately switched gears from personal to professional. "What happened?"
"The schedule."
"The schedule?"
"Yeah."
She frowned. "What about it?"
"I just wanted to run through—"
"Harry."
His mouth closed because she knew him, and she knew that wasn't why he was here. Not even remotely.
She folded her arms. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"Then why are you here?"
Another long silence as Harry looked away toward the carpet, toward the wall. Anywhere but her.
She knew and the exhaustion that followed was almost physical. "Harry..."
He looked back up. "I don't need help with the schedule."
"No shit." The words came out sharper than she'd intended but she was tired, so fucking tired.
Harry rubbed a hand across his face and then quietly said, "I need you to talk to me."
She actually laughed because it wasn't funny, it was unbelievable. "What?"
"I need—"
"No, I heard you. Harry," she said carefully, "what is going on?"
His jaw tightened. "You weren't there."
Ah, the dinner. She looked away briefly and then back at him. "Harry."
"You weren't there." His voice cracked slightly. "We always do a tour dinner."
She closed her eyes. "Harry, please."
"We always do one."
"I know."
"And your chair was empty." The words landed strangely because they sounded so absurd compared to everything else. "Your chair was empty," he repeated. "And I kept looking at it."
She stared at him and then shook her head. "No." Her voice dropped low, more exhausted than angry. "We are not doing this."
"We are."
"Harry."
"We are!"
The force behind it surprised both of them. For a moment silence filled the hallway and then she straightened, like she suddenly remembered who she was, who she had been before all of this. And when she spoke again her voice was cold and controlled. "You better fix your fucking tone."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
"No, I—"
"You better check who you're speaking to because you will not be standing outside my hotel room yelling at me."
"I'm not yelling—"
"You are."
"I just want to talk."
"And I don't."
The silence that followed was brutal because neither of them moved and neither of them backed down. She pointed toward the elevator. "Go."
Harry laughed once, disbelieving. "No."
Her eyes narrowed. "No?"
"That's right. No." He stepped forward slightly. "I want to talk."
Her jaw clenched. "I don't care."
"You can't keep doing this."
Something dangerous flickered across her face. "What?"
"You can't leave."
And immediately Harry knew he'd said the wrong thing. The very second the words left his mouth her entire expression changed.
"Oh." The single syllable was devastating. "That's what this is?"
"No."
"'You can't leave'?"
"That's not what I meant."
"No, go on." Her voice was getting quieter now which made everything feel worse. "Explain."
"I meant... you're my assistant."
There it was. The mistake. And it was like the final thread holding something together had finally given way.
"Oh." She laughed, a tiny laugh. "So that's what we're doing."
"That's not what I meant! You know what I meant."
"No, Harry." Now her voice was shaking. "Actually I don't."
She stepped back into the room, running both hands through her hair and laughing again. The sound was horrible because it was completely humourless. "First you push me into talking about your engagement when I specifically told you I didn't want to."
"Because—"
"No." She pointed at him. "No. You're going to listen."
And for the first time since he'd arrived, Harry shut up. Because something was happening, the dam was finally breaking. Everything she'd swallowed and buried. Everything she's tried to survive quietly... it was all coming up now. And neither of them could stop it.
"You pushed me." Her voice shook violently. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it and then you pushed and pushed and pushed because you need something from me." Tears were gathering in her eyes. "You wanted reassurance and understanding. You wanted me to tell you it was okay."
"I didn't—"
"You did!" The words cracked through the room. "You absolutely fucking did." She took a breath and then another but none of them seemed to help. "And then I gave it to you. I gave you everything."
The tears finally started falling and Harry felt sick. She was right.
"I poured my fucking heart out." The words were spilling now, faster, harder. "I stood there and told you exactly how much you'd hurt me and somehow nothing happened. Nothing blew up. The earth didn't split open. The sky didn't fall. You got stay engaged and everybody moved on. Tour kept happening." She wiped furiously at her face but it didn't make a difference as more tears replaced them.
"And now you're standing here." Her voice cracked. "And now somehow this is about you."
The silence afterward was awful. Harry felt every word like a punch, but some selfish, broken part of him was still thinking, at least she's talking to me.
At least that was something. And that realisation alone made him feel disgusting.
"That's not fair."
The second he said it he regretted it because her expression changed completely and she laughed, a full laugh this time. Completely incredulous.
"Oh my God! Not fair?"
Harry immediately knew he should stop talking but he didn't, he couldn't. "You're leaving." And that was the selfish thing he'd been circling for weeks.
Her face twisted with disbelief. The words came out almost as a whisper, "oh my God." Then louder. "OH MY GOD! What is wrong with you?"
Harry froze. "What?"
"No seriously." She pointed at him, her voice breaking apart. "What is wrong with you? You've turned this into some forbidden romance and it's not."
She was crying openly now. There was no restraint, no dignity left. There was just pure devastation.
"It's not some tragic fucking love story. It's a betrayal. You're a fucking coward."
Harry physically flinched. She saw it but she didn't stop. "Do you know what the worst part is?" Her voice dropped lower and she mocked the exact cadence and tone of how he'd said it. "'When you know, you know.'"
Weeks ago.
And suddenly Harry heard himself. Really heard himself.
"'When you know, you know,'" she repeated, laughing through tears. "'When you know, you know.' Fuck you."
The room went completely silent. She shook her head, over and over, like she couldn't believe he was real. "You completely minimised everything we ever had."
Harry couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.
"It wasn't casual for me." The words came out broken and raw. "I know that's humiliating to admit." A laugh, a sob, something in between. "But it wasn't. You had to know that."
Harry looked away because he had known. Somewhere deep down, he'd known.
"You can't be that delusional." The tears were streaming now while she shook her head. "I don't know what you want from me anymore. You took everything."
And suddenly the room felt impossibly still because she wasn't yelling anymore.
"You got the beautiful fiancée. You got the career. You got everyone's support and love and congratulations." She took in a shaky breath and exhaled. "You even still got me, who keeps your entire life running."
She laughed weakly, standing there completely shattered. The tears wouldn't stop, nothing would stop. "And what did I get? What did I get, Harry?" Her voice finally broke completely, sobbing. "I got humiliation. I got... displacement. I got this fucking pit in my stomach that won't go away." She pressed a hand against her chest like it physically hurt.
"I feel like somebody ripped my heart out." Harry closed his eyes. "Then put it back just so they could rip it out again every fucking morning when I wake up. And then I get unemployment." The laugh that followed was horrific. It wasn't even remotely funny. "And I lose you. I lose the person I thought was my friend." Her shoulders shook. "My best friend."
Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this ashamed. And then the feeling got worse.
"I'm paying for your consequences."
The words settled over the room, over both of them. Harry understood enough. Enough to see it, the scale and destruction. The selfishness, the cowardice, the way he'd kept taking and taking and taking because it was easier than making a choice. And how she'd been left carrying every consequence. Alone.
She wiped her face. Once, twice, three times, desperately trying to pull herself back together. She looked at him, completely exhausted, and quietly said, "I'd like you to leave."
Harry didn't move. She swallowed and then whispered, "Please."
The word nearly destroyed him because she'd spent weeks angry. Weeks hurt, weeks fighting. And now she was just... begging.
"Please, Harry." Her voice cracked again. "I am begging you. Just give me one thing." Another tear. "I need you to leave."
And for the first time since he'd arrived, he listened. He nodded once, turned and walked out. The hotel room door closed behind him with a soft click, and he was left freezing in the corridor. He stood there for a second, or maybe ten and then started walking toward the elevator.
When he finally reached his room he stopped outside his door, hand hovered over the handle. Inside, Jade was waiting. His fiancée, his future. Everything he'd convinced himself he wanted. And for the first time since all of this started, Harry truly understood the magnitude of what he'd destroyed to get there.
Not because he'd chosen Jade or because he's fallen in love, but because somewhere along the way he'd convinced himself that the things he didn't choose would simply stay where he'd left them.
Waiting. Available. Unchanged.
And now they weren't and she was gone. Not physically, not yet, but emotionally. And standing alone in the hotel hallway, hand resting uselessly against the door, Harry finally understood that some losses don't happen all at once. Sometimes they happen slowly, one choice at time until eventually you're standing in front of the life you built and all you can think about is the person who isn't in it anymore.
──────────────
Harry slept for maybe two hours. They weren't consecutive hours, instead, two scattered, useless hours spent drifting in and out of consciousness while staring at the hotel ceiling and replaying every single thing she'd said to him.
The show was tonight. The first show. Amsterdam.
The thing he'd spent months building toward, the thing he'd spent weeks rehearsing, the thing he should have been thinking about. Instead all he could hear were the words I'm paying for your consequences. Over and over, like a song stuck in his head. It was like a sentence his brain had decided he deserved to listen to on repeat.
By five in the morning he'd given up entirely and carefully left the bed, pulling on running clothes. He ignored the fact that his body felt exhausted and the fact that his chest felt tight in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with his fitness level. And then he was running.
At first he told himself it was about clearing his head but by the ninth kilometre he realise that was bullshit, and by the fourteenth he realised he was actively trying to punish himself.
Every time his lungs started burning and his legs got heavier and his body started protesting, it felt deserved. Good. A consequence.
Amsterdam was quiet at this hour. The canals reflected the pale morning sky, shop owners were beginning to unlock doors. They were normal people living normal lives, and Harry felt like he'd accidentally become somebody he didn't recognise. Thoughts started arriving suddenly and refused to leave.
Who the fuck am I?
Because seriously... who was he? What kind of man got engaged while sleeping with someone else? What kind of man expected the woman he'd hurt to congratulate him? What kind of man heard somebody say you've broken me and somehow still spent weeks wondering why she was pulling away?
His feet pounded against pavement. Harder, faster. His breathing becoming ragged. Harder, faster.
He thought about her standing in that hotel room and about the way she'd been crying so hard she could barely get words out. She'd physically struggled to breathe, and he had to just stand there and take it. She stood there looking completely destroyed while he stood in front of her somehow still thinking they could have a conversation that would make him feel better.
The shame hit so hard he almost stopped running entirely.
The awful thing was she was right. Not about some of it, about all of it. Every single thing, every single fucking word. The realisation presented itself, bright and ugly and impossible to ignore. He'd spent weeks thinking the problem was that she'd misunderstood him, thinking the problem was just a little communication. That the timing was the problem. And now he was beginning to understand that the problem was actually him. Entirely him.
Dickhead.
Because somewhere along the line he'd convinced himself that because he cared about people, he couldn't possibly be hurting them. As if good intentions erased consequences and the affection he gave her erased the dishonesty. That saying I didn't mean to somehow changed what he'd done.
He slowed slightly as his stomach twisted, just to speed up again, because slowing down meant thinking and thinking meant hearing her voice.
You got the beautiful fiancée. You got the career. You got everyone's support. You even still got me.
How had he heard that and not immediately fallen through the floor? How had he stood there while she listed everything she'd lost? Because she was right, again. She lost him, not just romantically, but as a best friend. That's two losses in one and somehow he'd spent weeks focusing on the fact that she was leaving instead of the reason she was leaving.
The reason being:
Him.
It wasn't because of financial or geographical circumstances. It wasn't because she found a new job or had a family emergency. It was him. His choices and cowardice. His inability to decide what he wanted before dragging two people through it.
He stopped running and slammed his hands on his knees, breathing hard while sweat dripped onto the pavement. And for one genuinely terrifying second he wondered whether he was having some kind of breakdown, panic attack or an identity crisis. Maybe all three.
Every version of himself he'd carried around in his head suddenly felt incompatible with reality. The Harry who cared about people, who valued honesty, who always tried to do the right thing. Those things couldn't possibly coexist with the reality of what he'd done, not without some serious mental gymnastics. And he was suddenly too tired to keep performing them.
"Fucking idiot."
The words came out loud, to nobody but himself. To whatever higher power was apparently watching this disaster unfold. "Need a fucking lobotomy."
By the time he got back to the hotel he looked awful. After a twenty kilometre run he was sweaty and exhausted, but this was different, he was emotionally hollowed out.
He bypassed the elevator entirely, taking the stairs and walking straight toward Mitch's floor. He didn't text or call, just showed up, because if he went back to his room he'd have to think and if he thought any more he was genuinely worried he might lose his mind.
The door opened after the second knock. For a moment neither say sad anything and then Mitch's eyebrows slowly climbed upward. "...you look terrible."
"Yeah."
"Morning to you too."
Harry looked past him to see Sarah gathering things near the door. The kids were putting shoes on, breakfast plans... normal life. Something about it made his chest hurt.
Their oldest spotted him immediately. "Uncle Harry!"
Harry managed a smile. "Hey, mate."
The younger one waved enthusiastically and for a moment everything felt absurdly normal and then Mitch looked at him properly, and whatever he saw immediately wiped the amusement from his face.
"Hey. What's going on?"
Harry swallowed. "I need to talk to you."
Mitch nodded instantly. Didn't ask questions or joke, just nodded. Sarah looked between them once and reached the same conclusion just by looking at him. "Alright." She kissed Mitch's cheek and then squeezed Harry's shoulder as she passed. "Hi, H."
"Hi."
"Text me when you're done."
"Will do."
And then she ushered the kids out and the door clicked shut behind them. Mitch sat down on the edge of the bed while Harry remained standing, pacing back and forth. He was breathing unevenly and Match just watched patiently, waiting. After enough silence had passed, he eventually said, "This usually works better when you tell me what's wrong."
Harry laughed once but the sound was horrible, dragging both hands down his face until he finally looked at his friend. "I need you not to talk until I'm finished."
Mitch nodded. "Alright."
"And this can't leave this room."
Another nod. "You got it."
"I cheated on Jade."
The silence immediately felt heavy and it didn't help Harry that he told Mitch to not talk. Although he felt that might have been a better option then having to watch every emotion flash across his face anyway.
Confusion. Shock. Disbelief. Concern. Then nothing.
Harry kept talking and once he started he couldn't stop. Everything came out. Everything.
How it started. The hooking up. The late nights. The feelings. The blurred lines. The engagement. The finding out. The fight. The resignation. The hotel room. The crying. The breakdown.
Every ugly detail and selfish decision got brought into the room. Every justification he'd told himself at the time and the excuse that now sounded pathetic the second it left his mouth. The words all poured out, messy and unorganised. Desperate. And Mitch sat there listening, not interrupting once until eventually Harry reached the ending the room finally fell silent. A silence so complete Harry could hear his own pulse.
Mitch stared at him for a long time, taking his hat off to run through his hair, placing it back on his head. Then finally, "Harry."
His stomach dropped because Mitch almost never used his full name, not even when he was serious. "Harry. You didn't." It wasn't even a question, just disbelief. "You actually didn't."
Harry closed his eyes. "Yeah."
Mitch leaned back slowly like he needed physical distance from what he'd just heard. "Fuck." Neither spoke and then again, "Fuck."
Mitch rubbed both hands over his face and looked at the ceiling before looking back at Harry, like maybe he'd somehow become a different person overnight. "What were you thinking?"
Harry's laugh came out broken and humourless. "That's the problem."
"No seriously." Mitch leaned forward. "What were you thinking?"
"I don't know."
"No." Mitch shook his head. "You had to be thinking something."
"I wasn't."
Mitch stared at him, completely baffled. "My friend... my friend who I've known nearly ten years. Did this?"
Harry looked away, he couldn't meet his eyes. Mitch sat back, still processing, still trying to reconcile the person he knew with the story he'd just heard.
Eventually Harry spoke again, quietly. "What do I do?"
Mitch immediately laughed in disbelief. "What do you do?"
"Yeah."
Mitch looked at him like he'd grown another head. "What do you mean what do you do?"
"I need advice."
"Advice?"
Harry's jaw clenched. "Mitch."
"No." Now Mitch was shaking his head. "You seriously fucked up."
The bluntness hurt because Harry knew he'd earned it.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Do you really?"
The room went silent. Because honestly? Until yesterday maybe he hadn't, not fully. Mitch saw the hesitation immediately and let out a deep sigh. The sigh of a man discovering his friend is somehow far dumber than previously believed.
"I think you leave it alone."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"I think you leave her alone. I think you screwed up... and I don't think you can fix it."
Harry didn't want to hear it, in fact he hated hearing it because some part of him had still been looking for a solution. A conversation, a grand gesture, something, anything. Mitch wasn't offering one.
"It might just be done."
The room felt very small, very quiet and very real.
"I get that you care about her." Mitch paused before adding, "Actually. I'm not sure..."
Harry looked up sharply. "What?"
Mitch shrugged. "I don't know what you feel. Because honestly, mate?" Even I'm disappointed."
Mitch wasn't dramatic. He could let things go really easy and never seemed affected by anything. He wasn't judgemental or prone to speeches. So if Mitch was disappointed... fuck, that one hurt.
"Have you told Jade?"
The question hit like a truck and Harry immediately answered.
"What? No. Of course not."
Mitch stared and then frowned. "Why'd you say that like that?"
"What?"
"'Of course not.'" Mitch leaned forward. "That doesn't sound like you. You've always been honest." The irony was brutal. "You've always hated lying and now I'm sitting here finding out you've played two incredible women."
Harry felt physically sick. Mitch shook his head slowly, almost sadly.
"You don't deserve either of them right now. I don't know what to say."
Harry swallowed hard. Mitch stood and walked toward the door, stopping to turn back and look at him. "I don't think you're a bad person."
The relief lasted maybe half a second before Mitch kept speaking. "But right now? I don't know, man. I don't know who the fuck you've been these last few months. You can't fix this." He paused for a second before continuing. "I don't blame her for tearing you apart last night. Wish I was dramatic enough to do the same." He smiled weakly before the situation wiped it immediately.
"Bro. That's not you. and I hope you've learned something because this version of you?" Mitch gestured vaguely. "This man?" He shook his head. "Not a fan."
And then he left, just like that. Breakfast with his family, real life, normal life. Leaving Harry alone in his hotel room, standing in silence.
The first show of the tour only hours away and all he could think about was how the worst thing about hurting somebody isn't the moment you do it, it's when you finally understand exactly what you've done and that you're never going to look at you the same way again.
──────────────
The thing about tour was that there was never really a place to be alone. There were places that were quieter than others, certainly. Places where people were less likely to bother you. Places where the noise of hundreds of moving parts became a dull hum instead of a deafening roar. But true solitude was almost impossible when you were travelling with a production that could fill an arena.
Which was precisely why she had claimed the abandoned dressing room three corridors away from the main backstage area the second she'd found it that morning. Nobody wanted it or needed it. The lighting was terrible, one of the mirrors didn't work, and there was a persistent buzzing noise coming from somewhere inside the wall. Perfect.
It had become her office for the day. Her sanctuary and her hiding place. She sat cross-legged in a chair that was slightly too low for the table, laptop open, phone balanced precariously beside a stack of schedules, transport manifests, flight confirmations and venue notes spread around her like evidence from a criminal investigation.
Outside, the arena pulsed with energy. Inside, she felt absolutely nothing. Or maybe that wasn't true, maybe she felt too much. The problem was that everything inside her seemed to be fighting for space at once.
She hadn't slept. After Harry left her hotel room she'd spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of the conversation and immediately hating herself for every word she'd said despite knowing every word had been true. There was something uniquely humiliating about grief once it had been witnessed. The crying was one thing, the begging was another, but the worst part was knowing Harry had finally seen it. Seen the extent of the damage and what she'd become. And somehow that made her feel exposed in a way she couldn't quite explain.
So she'd worked instead because work was predictable and made sense. People missed flights, equipment got delayed, schedules changed, problems appeared and problems got solved. Much different to emotions, people and Harry.
A burst of laughter echoed from somewhere down the corridor, then cheering, someone shouting something she couldn't make out. The sound travelled through the walls.
Family. Friends. Crew. Everyone gathering before the first show, excited and celebrating about the coming months of tour. And sitting alone in the dressing room, staring at a spreadsheet she'd already checked three times, she found herself feeling strangely disconnected from all of it.
Usually she loved this part, opening night always felt electric. Usually she'd be running around backstage with a ridiculous amount of adrenaline in her system, laughing with crew members, checking things that didn't need checking simply because she was too excited to sit still. Today it felt different. Today it felt like she was watching somebody else's life.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She didn't bother looking up. "Come in."
The door opened and Jeff appeared. One glance at his face told her exactly why he was there. "No."
Jeff sighed immediately. "I haven't even said anything."
"You don't need to."
"You should come."
She kept typing. "Can't."
"Can."
"Won't."
Jeff folded his arms. "Everyone's there."
"That's lovely."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Silence settled between them for a moment. Eventually she looked up and Jeff's expression softened slightly, because despite her best efforts she knew she looked rough. Dark circles, no makeup, hair hastily tied back. The general appearance of somebody who'd lost a fight against sleep and lost badly.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
The question lingered. She considered lying for a second but then she finally settled for, "I'm tired."
Jeff looked unconvinced but didn't push. "Come by for ten minutes."
"I have work."
"You always have work."
"Exactly."
He sighed again and then rubbed a hand across his face.
"Promise me you'll actually come watch the show."
That finally earned a small smile. "I'll be in the suite."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Jeff pointed at her. "I'm holding you to that." Then he left her alone.
Eventually the sounds outside began changing as the hours passed, the pre-show chaos started settling into something more focused. People stopped wandering, conversations shortened and the nervous energy sharped because show time was getting close.
She packed up reluctantly, stacking papers into neat piles, shutting down her laptop, gathering cables and chargers and notes with the muscle memory of someone who'd done this hundreds of times before.
For a brief moment she allowed herself to imagine the next few hours. The show, the crowd, the lights, and Harry stepping onto that stage. Despite everything that had happened between them, despite how angry she still was and how hurt she still felt and how badly she wished none of this had ever happened, she found herself hoping the same thing she'd always hoped. That he'd be brilliant.
That he would remember why he loved it, that the fans would lose their minds and that he'd walk offstage smiling because some things apparently survived heartbreak. Hope.
She swung her bag over her shoulder and stepped into the corridor. Most people had already headed toward the audience so the backstage area felt oddly quiet now, like the calm before a storm.
She was halfway down the hall when she spotted Jeff standing outside Harry's dressing room. Knocking firmly and looking concerned. "H?" Nothing. Then he knocked again. "Harry?"
She slowed automatically and Jeff glanced over. "Oh thank God."
Something in his voice immediately set off alarm bells. Her stomach naturally tightened. "What's happened?"
Jeff looked back at the closed door. "I don't know. He seemed anxious earlier."
"Pre-show nerves?"
"That's what I thought." Jeff knocked again. "H. We've got ten minutes, mate." Nothing. The silence behind the door suddenly felt wrong. Jeff ran a hand through his hair. "He locked it."
For a second she considered continuing down the corridor and letting somebody else deal with this, anybody else. Then she thought about Harry and the conversation last night. Thought about the way he'd looked when he'd left. Thought about what today meant to him.
And before she could stop herself she sighed deeply, stepping forward. "Move."
As Jeff immediately got out of the way she knocked softly, once. "Harry." Nothing. "Harry, it's me."
There was nothing but silence while she closed her eyes. "Can you unlock the door so I can come in? Please?"
The pause felt endless and then, a click. She looked over her shoulder to Jeff, "I've got it."
Jeff hesitated. "You sure?"
No. But she nodded anyway. "Get everyone where they need to be."
The concern remained on his face for another second and then he finally walked away, leaving her alone with Harry. The second she stepped inside she knew something was wrong. It wasn't nerves, or normal nerves, the room looked like a tornado has passed through. Clothes everywhere, water bottles tipped over, a chair was knocked sideways, and Harry...
Harry looked awful. He was pacing back and forth across the room, hands in his hair, breathing too fast, with his eyes wide and unfocused. The second he saw her he started talking. Nothing was coherent.
"The show's going to be shit."
"What?"
"The dancing." He pointed vaguely. "The transitions. The stage. You."
That one caught her off guard. "What?"
"I don't know." He laughed, the sound cracked in the middle. "Everything's wrong." His breathing hitched. "I don't know what's wrong with me. They're going to hate it."
"No they aren't."
"The show's a mess. The lighting cue in act two—"
"Works."
"The stage lift—"
"Works."
"The band—"
"Works."
He dragged both hands down his face. "I am losing my fucking mind."
And there was the real reason. It wasn't the show or production and stage, it was him.
She stepped forward carefully. "Harry."
His breathing was getting worse. Faster, shallower. "I can't— I can't think."
"Look at me. Harry." Louder now. "Look at me."
Finally his eyes found hers and immediately she saw the panic. Raw, unfiltered. The kind that makes no sense while it's happening and perfect sense afterwards.
"Okay." Her voice softened, instinct taking over. "Just breathe."
His chest was rising too quickly and so she stepped closer, ignoring every instinct telling her not to.
"Come on." She took a slow breath, deliberately, to show him. "With me."
He tried, failed, and tried again. She stayed exactly where she was, patient and steady.
Again. And again. And again. Until eventually the panic began loosening its grip, his shoulders started to drop slightly and the room felt less like it was spinning. His breathing finally slowed and for a few moments neither of them spoke, the silence feeling fragile.
Then unexpectedly he started crying. It was filled with exhaustion, relief, and like everything was finally catching up with him. And before she could think better of it, before she could remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea, before she could stop herself—
She hugged him.
The second she did it she regretted it. Not because it felt wrong but because it felt right, and that was infinitely worse. For one horrible moment it felt like coming home, like muscle memory. Like every version of their relationship before everything exploded. His forehead dropped onto her shoulder and her eyes squeezed shut immediately.
This was a mistake, a massive mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Not when he was shaking and looked this lost. Eventually she pulled back slightly and quietly said, "H."
He looked at her. Eyes red, face blotchy and completely wrecked. And somehow she still smiled. "You're going to do so well out there."
He laughed weakly. "I don't know."
"Yes you do." She tilted her head. "The stage is your home. You know that." He looked away while she continued. "Those people out there?" They showed up for you. Not just your family, your fans. They've been waiting for you. And if we're being honest, you've been waiting for them too."
Something softened in his expression.
"You love this." The words were quiet and certain. "You always have and you're going to be great. Which is really annoying, actually."
A weak laugh unexpectantly escaped him. Wet and broken and accompanied by a very unfortunate amount of snot.
"There we go."
He rolled his eyes. "Fuck off."
"See?" She pointed. "Better already." She stepped back fully this time, her professional armour sliding carefully back into place. "Right."
She grabbed a tissue box and threw it at him. "Let's get you looking presentable. Then we'll walk you to stage."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm going to freshen up."
"Please do."
He disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut. And only then did she allow herself a long breath, one hand pressed briefly against her chest, steadying herself, because that hug had cost her more than she'd ever admit.
A few minutes later she opened the dressing room door, Jeff waiting nearby, pacing now. The second he saw her, he stopped. "Well?"
She nodded. "We're good."
Relief washed across his face instantly. "He alright?"
She glanced back toward the closed bathroom door and then back at Jeff. Something in her expression must have said more than words ever could because Jeff's face softened immediately. Understanding as if he suddenly saw the cost of it, the emotional labour and the exhaustion.
The fact that no matter what had happened between them, she'd still walked into that room and put him back together because that was who she was. And because somewhere along the line she'd loved him enough that she probably always would, even when she wish she didn't.
"Ten minutes?" Jeff asked quietly.
She nodded. "Ten minutes."
And together they waited for Harry to come out and become himself again.
──────────────
The suite was already half-full by the time she slipped inside. Not crowded exactly, but busy enough that nobody paid much attention to her arrival, which was precisely how she preferred it. The entire arena was vibrating with anticipation now, the sort of energy that only existed a few minutes before a show began, when thousands of people were collectively waiting for the same thing and the air itself seemed to hum with it.
She paused briefly near the entrance and immediately spotted Jade. It felt like her eyes were drawn there against her will.
Jade was sitting beside Anne, leaning toward her as they spoke, both of them smiling at something that had clearly happened before she'd arrived. Anne's hand was resting lightly on Jade's arm, comfortable and affectionate in that way Anne was with people she liked, and something deep in her chest gave a sharp, unpleasant twist before she could stop it. Jealousy.
How embarrassing after everything. After all the anger and devastation and heartbreak and humiliation, after the screaming and crying and dramatic declarations and hotel room breakdowns, apparently she'd graduated into an entirely new phase of grief. Wonderful.
She smiled politely in Jade's direction when their eyes briefly met, with a quick nod of professional acknowledgment, then immediately crossed the suite and selected what was quite possibly the furthest available seat from where Jade and Anne were sitting. It wasn't childish, at least that's what she told herself.
As she settled into the chair, she found herself watching Anne out of the corner of her eye. That woman. Honestly, it was difficult not to love Anne. She was warm and kind and endlessly welcoming in a way that never felt performative. She remembered birthdays and checked in when people were struggling. Treated crew members exactly the same way she treated celebrities and somehow managed to make everyone feel seen. Which was why the jealousy felt particularly ridiculous. Because she wasn't jealous of Jade having Harry, not entirely. Right now she was mostly jealous that Jade had somehow inherited Anne too.
The most wonderful woman on the planet had apparently crossed enemy lines. Traitor. Though to be fair, there was one very strict rule she maintained at all times. Never be mean about Anne, ever. She was exempt from all resentment.
The lights dropped and the crow erupted. And suddenly all thoughts disappeared beneath a wall of screaming. The show had begun and for the first few songs she genuinely managed to lose herself in it.
The giant screens illuminated the arena in flashes of colour and movement. Fans screamed every lyric. The opening run of songs landed perfectly. Every transition worked. Every cue hit exactly when it was supposed to. And Harry...
Harry was annoyingly, infuriatingly good.She hated how much comfort she found in that. Because after everything that had happened, after all the crying and confusion and emotional destruction, she would've loved for there to be some cosmic balancing of scales. Some evidence that actions had consequences. Instead, he walked onto that stage looking like he'd been born there. His voice was clear, his timing was perfect, his confidence seemed effortless and the audience hung on every word. The bastard, of course he was incredible, because apparently life wasn't content with breaking her heart. It also needed to remind her exactly why she'd fallen for him in the first place.
Still, even while she watched, even while she sang along quietly beneath her breath without meaning to, her attention kept drifting elsewhere. Specifically to Anne and Jade. They were dancing happily, the way people dance when they're genuinely enjoying themselves and not worried about looking cool. Anne grabbed Jade's hand during one song and spun her around, Jade bursting out laughing. A few songs later they were swaying together, then hugging, then laughing again.
And every time she caught sight of it, something sharp twisted inside her chest. Not because they were doing anything wrong, that was the annoying part. Nobody was doing anything wrong. Jade wasn't cruel and Anne wasn't choosing sides. There was nowhere to put the resentment because nobody was trying to hurt her. So it just sat there, festering, like an itch she couldn't scratch.
At one point Jade picked up a glass of wine from the side table and for a brief, deeply immature second she found herself imagining knocking it straight out of her hand. Not violently, of course, just enough to make a point and cause a scene. Enough to make herself feel something other than this.
The thought lasted all of two seconds before she rolled her eyes at herself. She couldn't even be bothered anymore. The anger had been easier because at least the anger gave you somewhere to stand. Jealousy just made you feel pathetic.
She was watching Harry move across the stage during one of the slower songs when she became aware of somebody standing behind her. She turned and immediately found herself face-to-face with Anne, who was smiling.
"Oh no."
Anne laughed. "What?"
"That look."
"What look?"
"The one where you've already decided something."
Anne placed a hand dramatically against her chest. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Liar."
That only made Anne grin wider. "You've been avoiding me."
The accusation was delivered so casually that it almost caught her off guard. "I have not. I've been busy."
"You've been avoiding me."
She pointed toward the stage. "There's a show happening."
Anne folded her arms. "And?"
"And I am watching it."
Anne narrowed her eyes slightly and then leaned closer. "Is it because of my dance moves?"
The absurdity of the question hit her immediately and a laugh escaped before she could stop it. A real one. The first one all week.
"So it is my dancing."
"No, honestly," she said, still laughing. "You just looked like you were enjoying yourself."
Anne's expression softened slightly. "And you weren't?"
That landed a little closer to the truth than she'd expected and she looked back toward the stage. "I'm watching. And working."
Anne immediately gave her a look. The maternal one, the one that said she wasn't buying a word of this. Unfortunately, Anne had known her long enough to recognise deflection when she heard it. Still, mercifully, she didn't push and instead she simple opened her arms. And before she could protest, she was being pulled into a hug, an Anne hug. The kind that made everything hurt a little bit more because it reminded you what being cared for felt like.
"Oh, come here."
"I'm fine."
"Liar. You're terrible at lying."
She laughed weakly and Anne simply held her tighter, swaying them slightly to the music. Forcing her to sway.
"Anne."
"No."
"People can see us."
"I don't care."
The music continued around them. Fans screaming, Harry singing, the entire arena glowing, and for a brief moment she let herself just exist there. Then she gently extracted herself before she accidentally started crying in front of one of the nicest women alive.
A few songs later she slipped back into the suite itself to grab water. She crossed toward the refreshments table and reached for a bottle, freezing, because another hand reached for it at exactly the same moment. She immediately pulled back.
"Sorry."
"Oh!" She looked up and found herself staring directly at Jade, up close for the first time. Really up close. And that was unfortunate because Jade was beautiful. The kind of beauty that became more noticeable the longer you looked at someone. Warm eyes, easy smile. The sort of presence that made people feel comfortable which honestly felt rude at this point.
Could she not have been at least slightly awful? Just a little? As a treat?
"Sorry," Jade repeated.
"No, you're okay."
A brief silence settled between them and then Jade smiled brightly, saying, "Hi."
"Hi."
For a second neither moved and Jade laughed softly. "I've actually been looking forward to meeting you."
The words caught her completely off guard. "What?"
"Harry talks about you all the time."
Ah, the sentence she'd been dreading. Somehow it still hurt because all she could think was not enough, apparently. But instead she smiled politely, the professional smile she'd perfected over the years. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I feel like I already know you." Jade laughed again.
A strange ache settled somewhere beneath her ribs. She reached for a bottle of water, twisting the cap slowly to buy herself a second.
"It's funny."
"What?"
"It feels like Harry's been hiding you."
The comment landed exactly where she intended it to. Playful enough, harmless enough, true enough.
Jade laughed. "Oh, he's terrible for that."
You have no idea.
The thought appeared instantly. Uninvited and mean. She pushed it away.
Jade glanced back toward the stage. "It's an amazing show."
"Yeah."
"He worked really hard on it."
"We should probably get back out there."
"It was nice meeting you." God, Jade was so genuine, which somehow made it worse.
She forced herself to smile. "You too. Jade." Then she turned before the conversation could become anything else. Before she had to spend another second thinking about the fact that this woman had done absolutely nothing wrong.
Back in her seat she focused on the stage or at least she tried to. Harry was halfway through another song. The audience was losing their minds, everything was working exactly as it should have been, the show was brilliant, and all she could think about was Jade.
She was lovely. Kind. Beautiful. Normal. And suddenly jealousy felt far more dangerous than anger had ever been. Jealousy just sat there quietly and whispered ugly things.
Like how she knew every lyric without thinking or which songs Harry secretly worried about. She knew which bridge he'd rewritten five times in a hotel room because he hated the original version. she'd lived inside this music long before anyone else heard it. Not Jade.
Beside Anne, Jade smiled and swayed and clapped along and clearly enjoyed herself but every now and then she missed a lyric, or looked around to see what everyone else was doing. Or smiled through a moment she didn't fully understand.
And the jealousy loved that because it whispered, I know him better than you.
It was a horrible and unfair thought. She sank lower into her seat, annoyed with herself. Annoyed with Harry and the entire situation, because she'd thought she was still in her anger phase. And honestly that would've been preferable.
──────────────
A few days after opening night, she had found another hiding place. Tour had a funny way of creating temporary homes out of forgotten spaces. Every arena had them if you looked hard enough; abandoned production offices, unused dressing rooms, storage areas that had somehow escaped being claimed by lighting or wardrobe. Places where the noise softened enough for you to hear yourself think.
This one sat above the loading dock, tucked behind a maze of corridors and stairwells that nobody used unless they were actively trying to disappear. Which, admittedly, she was.
The room itself wasn't much to look at. A folding table. Three mismatched chairs. A vending machine that hummed loudly enough to be irritating but not loudly enough to force her elsewhere. Through a narrow window she could see trucks being loaded and unloaded below, crew members moving in practiced patterns as another show slowly assembled itself.
Her laptop was open, three different spreadsheets stared back at her. A coffee sat beside her, long abandoned and mostly cold, and despite appearances, she hadn't actually done any work for nearly twenty minutes. Instead she'd been staring at the same flight manifest while thinking about everything except flight manifests.
The knock at the half-open door was so light she almost missed it. She looked up automatically to see Mitch, and she immediately knew based on the look on his face. It was the same look people got when they accidentally learned something they wished they hadn't. A mixture of sympathy and discomfort.
For a second neither of them spoke, then she sighed softly and leaned back in her chair. "He told you."
Mitch shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. And I want to be very clear that I'm not getting involved."
Despite everything, despite the exhaustion and the lingering sadness that seemed to follow her around these days like a second shadow, a small laugh escaped her. She didn't believe him, one bit.
"Right."
"I'm serious."
She raised an eyebrow and he raised one back, the standoff lasted approximately three second before both of them cracked.
"You're terrible at staying out of things."
"I'm actually excellent at it."
"No. You're not."
He pointed at her accusingly. "I haven't done anything."
"You came looking for me."
"That doesn't count."
"Fine," he said quickly, finding a seat opposite her and leaning forward slightly, "I genuinely mean it. Listen, he's my mate. You're my mate. He's made a complete mess of this and, to be completely honest with you, I don't want any part of it."
She smiled faintly. He continued.
"I'm not joking either. Sarah told me if I got involved she'd kill me."
That earned a bigger laugh. "Did she really?"
"Word for word."
"Poor you."
"I've got two children and a mortgage. I pick my battles."
The smile lingered for a second before fading. And just like that, the room settled back into something quieter. Mitch watched her carefully, just waiting.
It occurred to her suddenly that this might be the first conversation she'd had in weeks that wasn't about logistics. Or Harry. Or the engagement. Or replacing her. Because everyone seemed so focused on the event itself that nobody had really stopped to ask about the aftermath. Nobody had asked how she was carrying it because nobody knew.
Eventually Mitch spoke. "How are you actually doing?"
The question was so simple that it almost caught her off guard and for a moment she considered giving the usual answer, the greatest hits. Instead she found herself staring down at the coffee cup in front of her.
"I don't know." The words came out quietly and Mitch nodded, allowing her to continue. "I think the weirdest part is that everyone keeps acting like I'm doing this amazing brave thing."
She laughed softly. "They keep saying congratulations."
Mitch frowned. "Congratulations?"
"On leaving."
Another laugh, short and disbelieving. "They think I'm taking some incredible career opportunity." She picked at the cardboard sleeve around her coffee. "They think I'm taking a break or that I've decided to move on."
The smile she gave him this time was heartbreaking because it wasn't really a smile. "I'm not. I don't want to leave."
For the first time since she'd spoken, her voice cracked. Mitch didn't interrupt or rush to fill the silence, so she kept going, because once she started, it was surprisingly difficult to stop.
"I have a life here." Her eyes drifted toward the window, the trucks. "These people are my family and... I'm good at this. I love this job." The words came out stronger now, more certain but more frustrated. "And that's the part that nobody seems to understand."
She looked back at him, eyes bright, not quite crying. Not yet.
"Everyone keeps talking about it like I'm making this empowering choice."
The word itself sounded ridiculous, like something pulled from a self-help book.
"It's not empowering." The tears finally arrived then. The sort that appeared when you'd been holding yourself together for far too long. "It sucks."
Mitch's expression softened immediately after seeing the tears, but he still didn't interrupt, and she was grateful for that.
"I didn't win some self-respect award." A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away, almost annoyed by it. "I felt like my life exploded. So now everybody's acting like I'm brave because I'm leaving. I'm not brave." Her voice grew quieter. "I just didn't know how to stay."
The room fell silent and for a long moment Mitch simply sat there, giving her the dignity of being heard. Eventually he leaned back in his chair and let out a slow breath. He nodded once, as though he'd reached a decision. "Okay."
She blinked. "Okay?"
"Tomorrow. You, me, Sarah, and my annoying children."
"Mitch."
"A park."
"No."
"Some bikes."
"Mitch."
"A completely unreasonable amount of snacks."
She laughed despite herself and he pointed triumphantly. "What was it? Did I reel you in with snacks? Or was it the bikes?"
"I'm not riding a bike."
"You absolutely are."
"I haven't ridden a bike in years."
"Perfect. You'll fit right in with my children then."
"Mitch."
"And before you say no, let me remind you that my children once spent forty-five minutes arguing over whether ducks have jobs."
She snorted, actually snorted, and Mitch looked delighted.
"You need this."
"I don't know if this is the 'this' I need."
"You need it." Mitch stood and smoothed down his jeans, pointed at her. "Ten o'clock."
"I'm not agreeing."
"Ten o'clock."
"I haven't said yes or no yet."
"You'll be there."
She rolled her eyes but she was smiling now. A real one. And as Mitch walked toward the door, she found herself wiping away the last of the tears that had escaped without permission, because for the first time in weeks, somebody had asked how she was doing and actually waited for the answer.
──────────────
The following morning, she seriously considered not going. Not in a locking-herself-in-her-room, turning-off-her-phone sort of way. Just in the quiet, exhausted way that heartbreak seemed to infect every decision these days, turning even the simplest plans into something that required effort.
By nine-thirty she was sitting on the edge of her hotel bed staring at a pair of trainers she'd already put on and taken off twice. By nine-forty she was trying to convince herself that Mitch would understand if she cancelled. By nine-fifty she was in the hotel elevator. And by ten o'clock sharp she was stepping into the lobby.
The second she appeared, a small voice shrieked. "YOU CAME!"
Before she could react, a tiny body launched itself at her legs. She looked down to find Mitch's eldest wrapped around her knees like an enthusiastic octopus.
"Oh."
The child looked genuinely relieved. "I thought you weren't gonna come."
Something inside her chest softened immediately. "And who told you that?."
The little girl gasped dramatically. "Daddy. He said you can be flakey but I don't know what that means."
"Well, that's rude."
"We can ride bikes together!" the little girl announced. "Daddy says you're not very good."
Across the lobby, Mitch nearly choked on his coffee. "Stop calling me out."
Sarah appeared beside them carrying the younger child, who immediately waved. "Hi."
"Hi."
"You're tall."
"Thank you?"
The little boy seemed satisfied by that answer and Sarah shook her head fondly. "Okay. Before anyone rides a bike or starts insulting anybody's athletic ability, we're getting pastries."
The eldest pumped a fist into the air. "PASTRIES."
"Inside voice."
"pastries...", she whispered slowly.
"That's somehow worse."
The little girl grinned. And just like that, they were off.
The morning unfolded with the sort of gentle chaos that only seemed possible when young children were involved.
Pastries were selected. One chocolate croissant was rejected because it looked "too chocolatey," which she hadn't previously realised was possible. The younger child became briefly convinced that orange juice was spicy. At one point both children spent nearly ten minutes debating whether birds had birthdays. Not whether they celebrated birthdays, whether they had them at all.
"Of course they have birthdays," she said eventually.
The eldest frowned. "How do you know?"
"Because everyone has birthdays."
The child considered this seriously. "What about worms?"
And just like that she found herself involved in a conversation about worm birthdays while Sarah tried desperately not to laugh into her coffee.
By the time they eventually reached the park, she realised something strange had happened. She hadn't thought about Harry for almost an hour. An entire hour. Surprising.Because for weeks every thought had somehow circled back to him eventually. Every conversation. Every decision. Every moment alone. And now she'd spent an hour discussing pastries and worms, which honestly felt healthier.
The bikes came next and unfortunately Mitch had been right. She was terrible, not disastrously, just a bit rusty. The sort of rusty that made children look at you with mild concern.
The eldest watched her wobble slightly before offering, "It's okay."
"Oh good."
"My grandad falls off his bike too."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She looked over at Sarah and she immediately turned away to hide her laughter.
The morning sun reflected off the water as they rode slowly through the park paths, the children zig-zagging unpredictably in front of them while Mitch repeatedly shouted things like "WE STAY ON THE PATH" and "THAT ISN'T EVEN A BIKE LANE."
Nobody listened. Least of all the children. The younger one became fascinated by ducks which led to another conversation, this time concerning employment.
"Ducks don't have jobs."
"Why not?"
"Because they're ducks."
"But what if they want jobs?"
"Mate, I don't know."
The little boy frowned. "I think ducks would like jobs."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"What jobs?" A very long pause. Then, "Police."
She nearly rode into a hedge laughing.
At lunch they sat on a blanket beneath a tree while the children demolished sandwiches with great enthusiasm. Sarah hander her a drink. "You look better."
The comment caught her off guard. She looked up. "What?"
"You do." Sarah smiled softly. "Less haunted."
"Wow."
"I'm serious."
"I wasn't aware I looked haunted. Or that one could look haunted."
"You did."
The honesty made her laugh. But later, when nobody was looking, she found herself thinking about it. Less haunted... maybe. Because sitting here, surrounded by people who cared about her without expecting anything from her, she was beginning to remember something she'd forgotten. The world was bigger than this heartbreak. The grief had become so consuming that she'd accidentally started measuring her entire future against one person. Against one mistake. Against one relationship.
And sitting beneath a tree while a three-year-old proudly showed her a leaf that looked absolutely identical to every other leaf in existence, she found herself realising something that felt both obvious and revolutionary. Her life wasn't over. It was different, sure. Painful. But not over.
Later that afternoon, after ice creams and scraped knees and another argument about whether ducks could become police officers if they worked hard enough, they sat near the canal watching the children chase pigeons. The younger one had somehow acquired a flower. Nobody knew where from, or why, but he handed it to her fror no reason whatsoever. Just because.
She looked down at the tiny crushed flower resting in her hand. Then over at Sarah, then Mitch, and then the children. The sunlight reflected off the water while people laughed somewhere nearby. A bicycle bell rang in the distance.
And for the first time in weeks, she felt something that wasn't anger, jealousy or heartbreak. It was hope. It was small, fragile and still finding its feet, but it was hope all the same.
Not hope that Harry would choose her or that everything would somehow go back to normal. Just hope that one day she might wake up and this wouldn't hurt quite so much. That one day she'd stop measuring every future version of herself against a past version of them. That one day she'd become somebody who talked about this period of her life instead of somebody still trapped inside it.
And somehow, sitting beside a family she adored while two children attempted to negotiate a peace treaty between pigeons and ducks, it felt like enough.
──────────────
The following afternoon, the stadium was still waking up around her. That was always her favourite time of day in a venue. Before the crowds arrived. Before the noise. Before thousands of people turned an empty building into something alive.
There was a strange calm to those hours, when crew members moved quietly through corridors carrying coffees and clipboards, when production notes were still being adjusted and catering was only just beginning to fill with people.
The arena felt less like a machine then.
She sat in her usual spot, tucked away inside the abandoned dressing room she'd unofficially claimed over the last week. Her laptop was open in front of her, though she wasn't really working. A schedule sat on the screen, a spreadsheet beneath it and a half-finished coffee beside her.
Mostly she was just enjoying the quiet. Or trying to.
The day with Mitch, Sarah, and the children lingered pleasantly in the back of her mind. Every now and then she found herself remembering one of the bizarre conversations she'd had with them and smiling despite herself. The younger one had become convinced ducks should be allowed jobs. The older one had spent twenty minutes interrogating her about whether astronauts celebrated birthdays in space.
It had been ridiculous, but wonderful and normal. And for the first time in a long time she'd caught a glimpse of something she'd almost forgotten existed. A future. Not some grand reinvention of herself, just a future that didn't begin and end with Harry. The thought settled warmly somewhere in her chest.
Then came a knock at the door. "Come in."
The door opened, she looked up, and found Harry standing there. For a moment neither of them spoke, his eyes moving around the room slowly, taking in the scene. Finally he spoke.
"So this is the famous hiding spot."
The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. "What famous hiding spot?"
"The one nobody could find you in."
A small smile appeared briefly. Gone almost immediately. "Well... you're here."
"I am."
The words settled between them. Neither uncomfortable nor easy. Harry stepped further into the room. Not enough to feel intrusive, but enough that she knew he wasn't planning on leaving immediately.
Which would have worried her a few weeks ago, back when every conversation between them felt like stepping onto a minefield.
Today felt different.
She closed her laptop slowly. "What can I do for you?"
The question was professional and automatic. A question she'd asked him a thousand times before.
Something shifted across his face at that. He seemed to realise something. The entire time... every conversation, every argument, every confrontation. He had been asking her for things. Understanding. Reassurance. Comfort. Forgiveness. Conversation. Permission to feel better. Permission to move forward.
And standing here now, looking at her sitting behind that folding table with a coffee growing cold beside her and a life she was still trying to piece back together, he understood with startling clarity that he had spent months taking and taking and taking from someone who had already given him more than she should have.
He swallowed and then said quietly, "I told Jade."
Everything inside her stopped. The room seemed to shrink, the sounds outside faded and even the humming vending machine disappeared. For a second she wasn't entirely sure she'd heard him correctly.
Harry looked down briefly before continuing. "I told her." His voice remained steady because he'd rehearsed this. Not the speech, but the honesty of his decision. The consequences. "I should've done it sooner."
The words came without hesitation and without excuses.
"I don't know what's going to happen." A small breath escaped him. "And honestly, I don't think that's really the point anymore."
She remained perfectly still, listening. Harry nodded slightly to himself.
"She deserved to know."
The simplicity of it made her chest ache because it was such an obvious truth. Such an infuriatingly obvious truth and yet it had taken all of this to get there.
"And..." he paused briefly. "You deserved for me to tell her."
For the first time since entering the room, he looked directly at her. Not as his assistant, or someone he needed something from, just as her.
"And it should've happened long before I asked her to marry me."
Neither of them looked away. Eventually Harry let out a breath, the kind that sounded as though he'd been carrying it around for weeks. Maybe months.
"You were right."
Something flickered across her expression. Harry continued before she could respond. He wanted to finish, to do this properly. The way he should've done so many things properly.
"You were right the whole time." His gaze drifted briefly toward the floor and then back to her. "About all of it." A small laugh escaped him btu it was humourless. "I think I spent so much time convincing myself I wasn't a bad person that I never stopped to think whether I was doing bad things."
There was no self-pity in his honesty, no request for reassurance. It was just the truth. The kind she'd been begging him to face from the very beginning. And somehow that mattered more than an apology ever could Because apologies were easy, recognition wasn't. Recognition required looking directly at the damage and accepting ownership of it.
Harry shifted slightly, almost awkwardly and then gave a small nod. "I just wanted you to know." His voice softened. "You don't need to say anything."
He wasn't waiting for forgiveness or absolution. Wasn't waiting for her to make him feel better. He'd come here to tell the truth. Nothing more, nothing less. It was like a knot finally loosening after being pulled impossibly tight. Harry glanced toward the door and then back at her one last time.
"Anyway."
The word sounded inadequate but maybe there weren't better words. He offered a small nod and then turned and walked toward the door.
He turned the handle and opened the door, and for a brief second she thought that would be it. That this would be the final version of them. Not together but not enemies. Just two people standing in the aftermath of something neither of them could change.
Then, just before the door closed, she heard herself speak. The words leaving her before she'd fully thought them through, almost lost beneath the noise of the corridor.
"Thank you."
Harry froze, one hand still resting on the door. His shoulders tightened briefly and for a second she thought he might turn around, thought he might say something. Anything. But he didn't.
Instead he stood there motionless, letting out a slow breath that sounded suspiciously like relief. Then he nodded once and stepped out into the corridor, the door closed softly behind him. Leaving her alone in the room once more.
The silence that followed felt different somehow. Not because everything was fixed and because she wasn't still hurt. There was just a sense that for the first time since all of this began, nobody was pretending anymore. The truth was finally sitting where it belonged, out in the open.
EXAM STRESS
pairing: current! Harry Styles x fem! reader
summary: you're feeling burned out from your upcoming exam, Harry takes care of you
word count: 2.8K
contains: anxiety, self-doubt, burnout, age gap, comfort and reassurance
a/n: Long time no see, hellooo! I wrote this during this week when I was stressed out from my Cambridge exam and needed a bit of comfort. Not sure how I feel about it but I hope you're gonna like it! Tell me how you're doing, I miss talking to y'all!
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ALL MY LOVE AND TPWK, E
You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. Your body didn’t really feel like yours. There was this weird feeling in your bones, chewing on your muscles, running through your skin like electricity. Your eyes felt heavy but you knew it wasn’t from exhaustion. You felt the need to cry but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.
Sitting slumped in the chair in Harry’s study, you mindlessly turned pages in your book back and forth. Sentences blurred together and letters started looking like foreign symbols.
Harry was out running errands. He texted you that in the morning. Right after you made your relationship official, he gave you a key to his house so you could come over anytime you needed. You loved spending time there, his house was big, and Harry claimed you filled the lonely space perfectly. He used to beg you to stay the night almost every other day.
During your exam period, his study became your sanctuary and safe space. He let you lock yourself in and then had to bribe you with cookies and cuddles to take a break after you spent too many hours frying your brain. No matter the many differences between you, from significant age gap to different lifestyle, he cherished you proudly and was your rock exactly in situations like these.
You wrapped your fingers around the fabric of Harry’s hoodie you borrowed in his closet and tightly closed your fists, though the usually calming sensation of the softest cotton didn’t tell you anything. It rather felt like unnecessary weight that was holding you down.
You let out a tired sigh and tilt your head back, resting it against the leather seat. Your eyes fell shut and for once you appreciated the darkness enveloping you.
It wasn’t too long after when you heard the rustling of keys and the sound of the front door closing. Given the muffled sounds, you imagined how Harry was moving through the house. How he most surely threw his trench coat over the back of the couch and went to put away the groceries he bought. How he went to the bathroom to wash his hands and give his growing hair you trimmed a few months ago some shape. How his socks cladded feet thud softly against the stairs with every step, signalling he’s going upstairs.
“Oh baby! What did I do to deserve such a special visit?” You could hear the smile in Harry’s voice when he stepped in the room.
“Mhm hi,” You whispered and blinked your eyes open. Harry was already standing by your side, resting against the edge of the table, and watched you with thoughtful expression.
“Hey,” He murmured softly and reached out to tuck a messy curl behind your ear. “Studying? We’re still not over the exam period?”
The way he said we as if it was his thing too made your heart melt and you jutted your bottom lip out in reaction. Harry knew how rough the last semester was on you. He soothed many mental breakdowns and sleepless nights, fed you when you forget (many times), did skincare with you to make you feel better and took care of you like no one else ever did. And he didn’t mind doing a single bit. He loved to make his girl better.
“Uhuh,” You shook your head as ‘no’ and leaned into his touch on your cheek like a sleepy kitten craving pets. “One more,”
“How long have you been studying?”
“A few hours? I don’t really know, been here since morning,” You mumbled. The clock on the wall seemed to be too loud for your liking, but the small arrow pointed at the number twelve signalled it was noon already.
“And didn’t eat anything, right? Just drank coffee,” There was no point in lying. Harry saw the two big mugs on the desk, now empty but with stains from coffee. “Sweetheart, you know you can’t be running on empty. That’s not healthy for your body. And it won't help you with the studying either,”
“I was planning on grabbing something soon,” You protested with a quiet huff.
“Of course you were,” Harry chuckled but didn’t trust your words at all. He knew his girlfriend all too well at this point.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” You whispered and looked up at him, finally taking him in. He was dressed casually in a pair of beige linen shorts and black sweater, the sleeves now rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattoos.
“What do you mean, baby?” Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. He pulled away from the table and crouched down in front of you, turning your chair slightly to make you face him before he took your hands in his.
“I’m scared I won’t pass… What if- what if there won’t be any good questions? Or I forget everything?” A quiet sob, barely audible left your lips.
“Hey, hey. You will pass. You’re gonna nail the exam, I know that.” Harry cupped your cheek gently in his big palm and wiped away the first tear that was falling down.
“I feel so stupid,” You hiccuped.
“Oh love… Trust me when I say this, you’re the smartest girl I know. So strong, ambitious, my sweet girl,”
“‘M not,” You shook your head again as more tears fell down.
“Then I’m gonna remind you until you’re gonna believe it,” Harry gave you a supportive smile before patting your leg gently and slid his arm under your thighs. “Up you go,”
“Hey! What are you doing? I have to study!” You groaned. Your arms wrapped automatically around his neck in tight hold, as well as your legs around his waist and you let yourself be nursed wherever Harry pleased, the complete opposite of your protest.
“Taking care of my precious girlfriend,” Harry said as if he was talking about the weather. For him this was automatic. Taking care of you, loving you. He cherished these moments wholeheartedly, even when you were grumpy or a crying mess.
Harry made his way in the living room and sunk down in the plush pillows of the couch, pulling you comfortably in his lap. His warmth enveloped you immediately and you snuggled as close as possible.
“You’re taking a break, baby. No studying for another three more hours at least.” He rubbed your hips softly in the soothing motions that he knew could ease some tension and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“We’re gonna get something nutritious and warm in your tummy,”
A kiss to your temple.
“Shower,”
A kiss to the tip of your nose.
“Maybe use the face masks you love so much? I think I still have some from the last time,”
A kiss to your cheek.
“There’s gonna be soooooo many cuddles,”
A kiss to your other cheek.
“And if you’ll be good, I will maybe, and I really mean maybe, revise with you everything you’ve been torturing your brain with today,”
A soft kiss to your lips.
“There’s no way I’m gonna talk you out of this, right?” You mumbled into the wool of his expensive sweater, your head tucked under his chin.
“Nope,”
“I feel weird,” You whispered. The foreign feeling wasn’t entirely gone, you still felt it thrumming through your body.
“How weird, angel? Can you describe it to me?” Harry’s fingers ran through your messy hair, parting the strands gently. He didn’t like the tone in your voice, it made him worry even more about you.
“I don’t know. It’s just so weird,” You started nervously, not sure how to describe something you didn’t have words for. “I feel like my body isn't mine. Feels numb and heavy. And I feel this weird tension too,”
“Mhmm this could be anxiety. No wonder you’re feeling like this, baby, you’re exhausted. Been stressing yourself over the exams so much,” Harry pulled his lips in a thin line and furrowed his brows. He didn’t like it. He hated seeing his girl in pain. Even if it didn’t hurt you physically. You looked as if a truck hit you. So small and miserable.
“I don’t like this,” You felt new tears pooling in your eyes.
“It will stop soon. I will take care of it. Of you. We’re gonna do all I said before, yeah? No stressing or studying,”
“I love you, Harry”
“I love you too, sweetheart. You’re gonna ace the exam, love. You’re my smart girl.”
It didn’t take him long before he moved into the kitchen, leaving you behind on the couch tucked under a fluffy blanket with your favourite TV series on and a chamomile tea coming your way right after to calm your system down. From your place, you had an amazing view at both the bright screen and Harry cooking. You heard sizzling from the stove and a quiet humming of the oven. The smell of chicken and fresh vegetables carried over into the living room and made your stomach grumble, making you realise how hungry you were.
“Love, it’s done,” Harry called from the kitchen while he was plating your lunches with the addition of potatoes.
You moved slowly to the dining table, putting one foot in front of the other felt suddenly like a hard task, your body felt heavy, as if you carried rocks on your back. With a quiet huff, you sank into the chair and give Harry a small grateful smile when he set the plate in front of you. The portion was significantly smaller than his, just a tiny bit of everything to get at least something in your stomach.
“Eat as much as you can, alright? No pressure,”
You didn’t talk much. Only the noises of clinking silverware were audible in the room.
Harry cleaned up everything after you were done with your food. Just a bit of potatoes was left on the porcelain plate. He put everything in the dishwasher and when he was happy with the state of his kitchen, he turned back to you.
“Would you like a shower, angel? It could ease some of the tension in these muscles,” He ran his hands over your arms and then gave them a soft squeeze to feel the tightness beneath the skin. “And then we could get the face mask,”
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” You nodded.
“C’mon” Harry slid his hands down to intertwine his fingers with yours and pulled you up on your feet.
The ensuite bathroom was big and bright. With two sinks and a corner tub you loved to relax in with Harry in the evenings, as well as a huge walk-in shower and more storage space than needed, though Harry always objected that the cabinets are just waiting for you to fill them with your things.
Harry undressed you slowly and with so much care as if you were made out of glass. First his hoodie that was swallowing you whole, then he slid the black skimpy shorts down your legs, kissing each thigh and knee in the process.
“You’re so pretty, baby,” He nuzzled his face in your stomach while he was crouching in front of you.
Your panties and bralette were gone soon and Harry followed the pattern of undressing right after.
“There we go, that feels good, hm?” He murmured in the crown of your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your smaller frame, cradling you close to his chest, as the water cascaded down on the two of you in the walk in shower.
You whimpered but didn’t say anything, just nodded and buried your face deeper in him. He was right. The warm, almost hot water felt incredible on your skin.
“That’s it, just relax. I’ve got you,” He whispered sweet nothings in your ear and you felt his palms run up and down your back in soothing motions, adding just a little bit of pressure to undo the tight knots.
He massaged shampoo in your hair with focused precision until you had a head full of bubbles, dug his nails just lightly in your scalp. You moaned quietly at the feeling.
“This feels alright?” Harry murmured in your wet hair when they were washed and rubbed expensively smelling shower gel in the skin of your waist and back. His hands traveled slowly over each part of your body, memorising every curve and imperfection again
“Feels so good,” You breathed out against his skin. You were putty in his hands, melting with the water.
Harry wrapped you both in the fluffiest towels he owned when you both were washed and smelled like a mix of fruits, flowers and wood. He tapped your skin with another towel gently, wiping all the droplets that were falling down from your hair away.
“That is the cream we use after a shower, right?” He grinned at his need to check, showing you a yellow tube with french text. You used so many creams and lotions and he still wasn’t sure which had to come first and which last.
“Yeah, yeah, and then this one,” You reached for one small bottle out of many on the sink and handed it to him.
If there was one quality of yours that he loved more than the others, it was how much you cared about your body, or at least on the days when you weren't completely exhausted. He learned so many things about skincare from you and even when you weren’t around, he used all the creams you bought him in the morning and before bed. He even learned to use sunscreen regularly, especially after you teased him about the appearing wrinkles by his eyes, something he was always forgetting about before he met you.
“You haven't been using it much lately, have you? Your skin is a little bit dry,” He shook his head fondly as he rubbed the moisture in your skin with his fingertips.
“No,” You pouted.
“My silly girl. Not eating, not taking care of yourself, you’re lucky you have such a wonderful doting boyfriend like me,” He pecked your kiss when he was done with the second cream and cradled your face gently in his big warm palms.
You reached after the opened bottle and put a bit of the cream on your fingers before you smeared it on his forehead, nose and cheeks, carefully dragging your fingers around his moustache and beard.
“Trying to erase my wrinkles, love?” Harry chuckled.
“I like them, they make you look more mature.” You gave him a small smile, one of a few you could muster up today. “But you should use the creams anyway.”
Harry pulled you up in his arms again, one arm wrapped around your back, the other one under your knees, and walked with you in the bedroom, setting you down in the soft cotton sheets in beige colour. He rummaged through the drawers in his walk-in closet, looking for something comfortable for you. You had a good share of clothes in his wardrobe but he knew you preferred wearing articles of his instead. His oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers were enough for you.
“Stand up for me, angel?” He rubbed your shin gently while he was kneeling in front of you, still covered only by the towel loosely wrapped around his waist.
You did as you were told and let him slide his boxers up your legs until they were sitting securely on your hips. He pulled the old hoodie with cartoon characters at the front over your head next, covering your naked body and pressed another kiss to your lips.
Dressing himself in loose sweatpants and an old band shirt, Harry sat down next to you on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your head hit his chest.
“Do you want to lay down here or on the couch?” He murmured in your wet hair even though he knew the answer already.
“Bed,”
“Come on, let’s get you under covers,” The duvet was pulled away and you crawled on your usual spot on the left side of the bed first before Harry joined you, pulled the duvet over your bodies and wrapped his strong arms covered in ink around your small frame, cradling you close.
“Do you want to revise for the exam later? I could quiz you,” He offered softly. Some cooking show was playing quietly in the background, you didn't even notice him turning the TV on. He knew you didn't like complete silence and always had the TV on or played some music.
“No,” You sighed. You really wanted to. Read all your notes and answer all the hypothetical questions you could be asked during your exam. But you were tired. You’ve been studying for days at this point. Your mind and body were screaming for a break. And now laying in Harry’s bed, with him wrapped around you and peppering your face with soft kisses, you knew better.
“That’s a good girl, we’re just gonna rest for a bit. Close your eyes, love,”
“I love you, H. Thanks for taking care of me,”
"Always and forever,"
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CW: in honor of baby being back on tour i am reuploading this bar!singer!harry x fan!reader fic!!! I have one thing to say to yall... LHH!!! sorry guys i know i write about him so much but i lit will never get over him. FYI the reader is plus size and this is very sexy very hot minors please DNI!!1 ENJOY!
WC: 3.5k
Y/N didn’t know what it was about him that made him so incredibly magnetic. Alluring.
Captivating.
It might have been his eyes, piercing jade that swallowed her whole and made her feel all kinds of giddy with a simple glance. It might have been his smile: cheeky, flirty, and charmingly boyish. Or it might have been his voice, a deep baritone that glided over Y/N’s ear like butter on a hot day, settling into her bones and making them brittle with the sheer depth of its timbre.
Yeah, Y/N thought, eyes starry and staring up at the tall figure prancing around on stage, pulling the mic stand close to his cherry lips— it was definitely his voice.
She thinks it can even lull her to sleep if she tries, not because it was boring (heaven forbid), but because it soothed some innate part of her. Covered her like a weighted blanket and petted her hair till she drifted off into a slumber unlike any she felt before.
She definitely had hearts in place of her regular old pupils. How could she not? When he sang about cocaine and sex (embodied it too, even), grinned toothily towards the group of older ladies sitting at the back of the bar, eyed her group of friends closely… maybe a little too closely.
Her gaze met his and the world stopped turning. He smiled around the lyrics, lips curling as he crooned ‘baby’ softly into the mic and stared. In her chest, her heart threatened to pop out of her ribcage and make a show of how fast it pumped, especially when he threw her a sly wink, unabashedly checked her out, and then turned back to darting his eyes all over the crowd.
Ten seconds felt like ten hours, and Y/N was breathing like she just ran ten laps. Around her, her friends noticed the singer’s flirting and erupted into cheers for the poor girl.
“He was totally eye-fucking you!”
“You have to talk to him after the set.”
“Harry’s so hot isn’t he?”
Harry. The name sounded awfully familiar because Y/N faintly remembered his introduction at the start of the night, though she only caught bits of it over the constant chatter at her table.
“‘Lo everyone. I hope you’re enjoying your evening. M’Harry and this is my band Canyon Moon. We’re gonna be performing a couple of songs for you tonight, as we do every Friday. We’ve got a whole lot planned to keep you entertained for the next two hours, so make sure you’ve got your drinks in hand. Or cigarettes, if you’re into that. We don’t discriminate.”
Y/N thought he was cute from the moment he opened his pretty mouth; a glimmer in his eyes and a ghost of a smile on his lips that just didn’t disappear. He had this look about him that could make a person believe he was sitting inside their heads, peeking into every thought— like they were transparent. A hollow figure made of glass, and he was peering inside to read them like a book.
That was exactly what Y/N felt like as he locked eyes with her for ten beats. Like he knew of all the filth swimming around her head while she gaped at him with her lip between her teeth and a blush on her full cheeks.
Canyon Moon sang three more songs before politely excusing themselves for a short forty-minute break. The crowd clapped and awed, faux pouts on Y/N’s friends’ faces when the attractive bandmates slowly slinked off the little staircase by the stage. She cared for only one of them, though, the corners of her glossy lips tipping downwards as he ran a hand through his unruly hair and made eye contact with her again.
He must have read the frown on her face, because he giggled and shook his head, before rounding the same corner his bandmates just did and disappearing behind the mahogany backdrop.
Y/N could have cried at the thought of not being able to ogle him freely for another forty minutes, until her friend, Jade, grabbed her arm rather harshly, “c’mon, we’re going to the bar to get some drinks.”
A dejected sigh slipped from her lips as she reluctantly stood, tugging down her miniskirt as much as she could over the thick of her thighs. She quite liked the look of the little, black fabric, even if old grandmas on the streets muttered disgracefully and gave her dirty eyefuls.
The truth was that she was long over the illusory ideology that bigger girls had to cover up more because they had bigger thighs, stomachs and tits. She had spent too many of her teen years worrying herself over the shape of her body or the flesh that spilled out from the neck of her tops. Wasting her twenties over the same insecurities she worked so hard to get over was not something she planned to do.
Her breasts poured over her shirt, and her thighs filled out her skirt just right. The things that previously made her want to add more layers to her outfits now had her picking out tinier clothing to show off her curves. Although it took her a lot of time and tenacity to overcome her apprehensions, she learned to finally feel pretty and comfortable enough in her own skin. Sexy, even.
And she wasn’t the only person who thought so. After ordering herself a cherry mimosa to take back to the table, Y/N leaned her top half on the bar and propped her chin on her palm. Jade had excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Y/N stranded as she rubbed her lips together and dug her teeth into the shiny skin—a naggy habit of hers that followed her all throughout high school and uni.
She was just about to unlock her phone to distract herself when a honeyed cadence sent shivers down her almost exposed spine.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing such a pretty little thing at the bar all alone?”
Standing to her right was Harry, the lead singer of Canyon Moon. The man she was daydreaming of fucking mere minutes ago. Somehow, he was even prettier up close than under the intense stage lighting. His jaw was sharp, carved by the finest sculptor, and his lips were near sinful as they sang a sweet melody to her keen ears. She rolled her head to face him, drinking in his tight-fitted jeans, long, caramel curls and black and white printed button up.
Her nose scrunched in faux torment, “that’s quite a shitty line, if I’m being honest. I kinda expected more from a singer.”
Harry chuckled at her retort (a smooth, satisfying hum that made her insides warm), head falling forward and hair covering his smooth forehead, “ouch, you’re bruising my ego here. In my defence, it’s hard to come up with a good line when I’ve got a gorgeous girl in front of me.”
She blushed but tried to hide it, rolling her eyes, “isn’t that the whole point of pick-up lines? For them to work on girls you find attractive?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. A coy smile played on his lips, “but it worked, did it not? Got you all hot and blushy.”
“I’m not hot and blushy,” Y/N subconcsiously pressed her thighs together, “It’s just exceptionally… warm today.”
His lip was between his teeth as he shamelessly raked his gaze over her figure, eyes lingering on her plushy hips and tummy. “Yeah?”
“Mhmm.”
They were broken out of their stupor when the bartender asked for Y/N’s attention, sliding the scarlet drink in her direction. She thanked him and pulled the glass to her lips, puckering around the rim and drinking, all while she made eye contact with Harry. Y/N could swear she heard him groan hushedly as he closely watched the movements of her mouth. Purposely popping off with a loud smack, Y/N beamed mischievously and held the glass to her chest.
“Y/N,” she introduced herself, ringed hand outstretched for him to take.
His was much warmer and much bigger, practically swallowing her trembling fingers whole. The thick bands fitted around his knuckles were a cool contrast to her warm skin, “Harry.” He didn’t let go for a couple of seconds, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest, the slope of her neck and shoulders, the necklace nestled at the base of her neck and the sultry, longing look on her face.
A startled gasp fell from her mouth as he used his hold on her to suddenly tug her closer, the toes of their shoes touching. Her drink sloshed over her fingers.
Harry tsked. “Messy girl,” he murmured, taking her glass from her hand and setting it on the table.
In the process of doing so, his touch grazed the top of her chest, making her whimper in her throat. She couldn’t believe what was happening— couldn’t believe how incredibly hot the sight before her was as he gently took her sticky hand and brought it up to his face. Y/N’s mouth and eyes were left agape while he slowly licked the thin droplets of fruity alcohol from the side of her index finger, before engulfing the tip of it in his mouth.
His eyes never faltered from hers, lips suckling softly at the skin and teeth barely clamping down before letting go. There was not a single thought in her head. Her underwear was unbearably soaked as rushes of butterflies flitted about her stomach, and if she had not shut her mouth, surely there would have been drool dripping down the side of it, akin to the current state of her thighs. Her lungs were devoid of any full breaths.
“What ar—”
“Come to the back with me.”
Six words.
Six words that nearly made her knees buckle as he tugged her even closer, his touch trailing down her forearm and digging his nails into the silky flesh. When his nose skimmed her forehead, she sighed in defeat, "Okay."
Y/N looked up to meet his flushed face, and he quickly began pulling her towards the back of the stage, where a little cleaner’s closet was conveniently situated. She was slightly disappointed when one of his hands dropped hers, already missing the warmth of his palm in her own.
People still littered the bar here and there, but Y/N didn’t catch sight of any of her friends around. Jade was still in the bathroom (which meant she probably went to have a smoke outside) and the others were at their table by the stage. Y/N was sort of glad none of them knew of her secret little rendezvous— if they did, she would never hear the end of it.
Once they reached the little closet tucked into a secluded corner, Harry didn’t waste a second to rip the door open and shove Y/N inside.
She didn’t have time to process anything, because Harry’s hands were on her hips, her thighs, her sides, her neck— touching and squeezing like he couldn’t get enough. Finding her mouth, his fingers tightened around her jaw and he used the hold to push her back against the door, “fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered between kisses. The feeling of his tongue exploring her desperate mouth was euphoric; he was a depraved man as he moaned against her teeth and tasted her cherry soaked lips.
Y/N couldn’t help but whimper. Her hands shuddered with excitement when she tried to run them through his long locks. Somehow, she managed a tug, and simaltaneously, Harry’s greedy palms found her thick ass as he sunk his canines into her bottom lip. The same palms travelled up the back of her thighs, his kisses falling to her neck and shoulder. He was having too much fun nibbling and sucking on the supple flesh, almost not noticing the trickle that leaked down her thighs.
A deep groan travelled through his chest and fizzled into her guts when he abruptly swiped his fingers along the sodden fabric of her thong, “Christ, you’re soaked,” he felt her over the fabric, rubbing and rolling before he tucked it to the side. “Harry,” Y/N whined, pushing her hips into his hands. If he didn’t give her the release she so fervently needed, she was sure she would combust into flames.
He kissed the corner of her mouth teasingly, “s’that feel good, baby? Tell me,” warm fingers prodded at her hole, slowly collecting the sticky wetness and travelling up to her aching clit.
“Yes, it’s so–” Her words were cut off by a wet gasp as he began rubbing hot, incessant circles right on top of the engorged bud. Harry pushed all of her buttons, switching expertly between circling and flicking his fingers on the nerves. He worked her perfectly— like he had months to get accustomed to her body and figure out what she liked.
“Hmm?”
Plump thighs trapped his hand between her legs as she threw her head back and moaned, “uh-huh, it’s so good, Harry, please will you fuck me now?” The second the last words left her mouth, Harry’s other hand came down harshly on her ass, making her skin jiggle and jump. He kneaded the flesh right after, “Of course, baby. Askin’ me so sweetly. Turn ‘round f’me.”
Doing as he said, she turned over as easily as she could in the cramped space and put her palms on the door. She couldn’t believe what was about to happen. The same man she had been drooling over was now about to fuck the life out of her. Y/N was practically buzzing with excitement. Harry found the edge of her miniskirt, tugging it up so it rested on the swell of her bum.
Her pretty cheeks were revealed to him, and he couldn’t help letting his palms come down against the skin a couple of times on each side. She jumped and moaned at every smack. Gripping the sensitive flesh hard with one hand, Harry giggled at how reactive she was and unzipped his pants, pulling out his aching cock. He was impossibly hard at the sight of her all bent out of shape for him; tits against the door, back arched and butt on display for him to knead, bite and slap.
Hastily tugging on a condom, he stretched her thong over one side of her ass so her pussy was on display— glistening and silky. “Ready for me, Y/N?” He asked, squeezing her hips and then her sides. His nails dug into her skin, scratching just enough to have her jolting with pleasure. “Mmm. Please, Harry.” The thick head of his cock slid up and down her cunt and he slapped it against her clit for good measure twice before slowly sinking inside.
They both moaned in unison as he entered her; snug and warm, wetness seeping all over his cock and balls. The sight was one for sore eyes, and Harry couldn’t stop staring at where they both connected. He bottomed out, stilling for a few seconds as she throbbed all around him. She had never taken anyone so big before, so she’d be lying if she said she didn’t struggle a little with Harry stretching her out. “Y–you can move,” she squeaked, palms curling inwards.
He pulled out slowly, until just the tip was in and took his time rocking back in, making sure she felt every ridge and vein inside of her, “y’sure?”
“Yes! Please, Harry, I need it,” she reached her hand back and tiredly squeezed his forearm.
Now, how could he ever possibly say no to that?
All his willpower vanished in less than a minute as he began thrusting a little bit faster, a little bit harder, and a little bit deeper. Y/N couldn’t stop moaning and gasping, eyebrows furrowed as she glanced over her shoulder, “fuck,” she whimpered, eyes roaming his furrowed brows and parted mouth.
Harry took the hem of his shirt between his teeth so nothing obstructed his view of her pussy convulsing around him. She was so unbelievably wet— gushing around him and all over his thighs. “You’re so fucking wet, Y/N, Jesus—”
Her pussy pulsed like crazy when he found her g-spot, abusing the poor bump over and over again with each brutal thrust. One of his hands left her ass and slid up her body, wrapping around the front of her neck. He used his grip to pull her back, her spine arching and head falling against his shoulder.
Somehow, he pushed deeper inside of her from this new angle, his pace not faltering once as he groaned right into her ear. His other hand found her clit, rubbing fast, hot circles on it. The pleasure coursing through Y/N’s veins was near blinding now as she shut her eyes and screamed his name a little too loudly. Not wanting anyone to hear her pretty sounds, Harry slapped the same hand that was on her neck over her mouth.
“Y’have to be quiet, angel. Can’t have anyone else hearing what’s mine, can I?”
Y/N tried to moan his name but it sounded funny muffled against his palm. He found her little attempts adorable, though, and he could tell she was nearing her release when she squeezed rhythmically around him, “c’mon baby, come for me. Need it so bad, I need to feel you come all over me.”
One last high pitched cry stuck to the base of his palm as she came around him. Y/N had never felt anything like this before. Sure, she had had orgasms before, but no one ever made her come so fucking hard so soon before in her life. She rid out her orgasm for as long as she could, her body slumping just slightly, but she knew Harry still needed to release.
She pushed his hand off her face, “pull out. I want you to come in my mouth.”
“Fuck.”
As he swiftly pulled out, Y/N’s pussy fluttered around the emptiness. Although she missed the feeling of him inside her already, his orgasm was now her number one priority. She turned around and got on her knees, legs still shaking. Her hands wrapped around his wet, pulsing cock and she tipped it down towards her mouth.
Y/N gave it her all—sucked on his tip and flicked her tongue against the sensitive underside of his dick. She tried to push it in as deep as she could, and the second she gagged around his length once, he was coming.
Thankfully, Y/N managed to pull him to the front of her mouth just in time. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Such an angel,” he praised, as thick hot spurts of come poured into her mouth. When his fingers found her hair, she didn’t know, but she did know that they felt good tugging and fisting the strands while she swallowed his come. The moment she was done, he grabbed her upper arm and yanked her up to her feet.
No words were exchanged as he leaned in to kiss her softly, tongue invading her mouth and tasting himself on her. All the while, his fingers fixed her panties and pulled her skirt back down. One more hard kiss was pressed against her mouth and he departed from her lips, “y’okay?”
“Mhmm. You?”
“Never been better.”
He grinned and patted her ass, “think your friends might be wondering where y’are. And I’ve got a set in…” he looked at his wrist watch, “four minutes.”
Y/N nodded, still in a haze. “Yep. Yes. I’ll get back to them.” Harry noticed that she was still a little out of it, but he figured she’d hopefully be fine once she was around her friends again, “yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Blow me a kiss, will you? While I’m on stage?” Harry smirked, palming her ass over the skirt.
“I will,” Y/N nodded, “good luck.”
Another smiley, lingering kiss was shared with her swollen mouth. “Thank you, angel. I’ll see you out there.”
He zipped himself back up and they slinked out of the little closet, one after the other. Harry went first since he had a set to play in three minutes and Y/N left ten minutes after that to not rouse any suspicions. She took the time to fix her hair and wiped her chin of any stray lipgloss, still processing the whole exchange in her head.
When she made it back to her friends, they all had raised brows, noticing her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “What happened to you? We were looking all over,” Jade asked.
Y/N gave them a soft, convincing smile. Her eyes drifted to the stage to find Harry smirking right at her, eye dropping in a wink and making her stomach flutter. His cheeks were pink and his shirt was half-tucked because of the way he threw his pants on, but he could easily play himself off as just being affected by the humid air. She turned back to her friends and hoped her face didn’t look as hot as it felt.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just feeling exceptionally… warm tonight.”
AN: HEHEHHE HOPE U ENJOYED!!! I REMEBER WRITING THIS ONE IT WAS VERY VERY VERY FUN!!! DO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK AND IF U LIKED IT, AND WHAT SORT OF STORY YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE NEXT!!! just waiting for my exams to finish and trust i will be back with a BANGG!! i have a lot of exciting things lined up for you!! miss you and love you all lotss1!!!!!111!
Request: Could we have an older bf Harry being kind of sick in the lead up to tour, nothing crazy just a sore throat and he’s kinda stressed from that, worrying he might mess up his vocals because of it, runny nose just not feeling very well at all. Meanwhile his gf is just trying to check in on him constantly and cheering him up like “it’s ok your voice just sounds sexier now if anything’. Tysm xx
Harry Styles and [Y/N] have been dating for a few months. She's shy in bed—not because of a lack of experience, but because of the age difference and his background: Harry is older, much more experienced, and uninhibited. He patiently encourages her to talk about what she feels and what she wants. Despite this, she still hesitates to verbalize her desires. Until, after an intense night of sex, breathless and sensitive, [Y/N] shyly whispers: "I want another orgasm." This simple request ignites an intense euphoria in Harry, as if he had been waiting for exactly this moment.
ps: I'm addicted to your stories. 🥹🩷
🌸 His Quiet Girl*
Summary: After long, intense night of sex Harry’s shy girlfriend asks for another orgasm, a moment Harry has been waiting for.
CW: Smut (p in v, minor daddy kink, praise kink, oral (f!rec), strong language, pet names), Agegap!
Word count: 2.4k
Older!Harry x Shyfem!reader
A/N: Absolutely loved this one, thank you Anon for always enjoying my content and asking for this sweet request! 🩷 lmk what you think, I always feel a bit shy to write all smut!
After an exhausting day of running errands, the pair returned to their London home with takeaway boxes and grocery bags. Harry carried them in as he walked behind his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but focus on her backside, utterly exhausted but never for her. He quietly went to the kitchen, began stocking the fridge with their food but his mind wondered. Y/N and him had been dating for a little over half a year. She’d often stay over at his for the weekend. Now, that Sunday was approaching, he was growing rather needy when it came to intimacy with his partner. Y/N was a decade younger than him, and rather shy when it came to the bedroom. Harry recalled multiple conversations with his partner about being straightforward about what worked and what didn’t. He always aimed to please her, especially since he knew she could be rather quiet.
“I’ll handle this, you go get settled.” He instructed, watched as she left. Harry never wanted to pressure his girlfriend but he understood that she must’ve been quietly trying to make a move. At the shops, Harry noticed how she’d brush against him innocently or he’d find herself staring at him a second too long. When they went to their favorite Italian restaurant, Harry saw how she’d squeeze her thighs together under the table, staying rather quiet in conversation and abusing her bottom lip with her teeth whenever she got the chance.
As his heavy footsteps crept against the wooden floor, he paused in their doorframe. The door was cracked as he saw his partner changing. “You don’t have to wear anything tonight, if you don’t want too.”
He said nonchalantly, with a small shrug. He took slow steps towards her. “You’ve been remarkably quiet tonight darling, penny for your thoughts.” He asked as he sat on the bed.
“I’m… I’m just in my head a little,” Harry hummed in response. “About?” He questioned, encouraging her to go on.
“Every time we’re… Together, I just… it’s hard for me to say what I want or what I like,” Harry nodded, bringing his finger to his lips to think.
“I’ve noticed that, darling. I know you’re worried that you may say the wrong thing or you feel a bit shy but when you’re with me, here,” he gestures to their bed. “Nothing is off limits. I’ll do whatever you ask, darling. I want you to feel comfortable enough to uhm, ask what you want, okay?” As she walked closer, he let his hand rest on her bare hip. With only her undergarments on, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her stomach. “I’m always listening to you, baby.” He helped ease her onto his lap, straddling him.
“Tell me, have you been patiently waiting all day?” He smirked, breathing her scent in. When his girlfriend did a slight nod of her head, Harry cupped her face with his large hands.
“Can’t have my girl waiting,” he said, softly before crashing his lips into hers. It was far from gentle, it was urgent and needy. His mouth claimed her own in a hungry, heated manner that knocked the air from both of their lungs. Harry let his tongue slip into her , exploring, teasing and anchoring her all together. He felt her small hands go to his hair, his favorite feeling ever as she tugged gently. He let out a low moan as her body sank deeper onto his lap. It was an all consuming touch, a distraction for both of them. His jeans pressed into her cotton underwear, the bulge allowing for some slight friction. With his large hands on her hips, he shifted his body over her own. He seized the moment before she could over think, placing her back onto the bed. He tore off his dark, long sleeve shirt. His muscles were taut against his chest. He disconnected his lips for a second only to replace them on her sensitive neck. He nipped and soothed love bites all over her jaw and neck as she released soft whimpers that were the only sound of pleasure. As he eased down onto his knees, he let his trail of kisses run lower against her naval.
“You’re so quiet love, so polite. Don’t hold back a sound, ok? I wanna hear you, daddy wants to hear how good I make you feel. Even if it’s a whisper, I want to hear how much you want this.”
“Please,” he heard a soft beg escape her lips as Harry sank his warm mouth against her clothed clit. He feasted over the material, moaning against her. Her body began to squirm against her own. He used his hands to cup her hips, forcing her to stay down onto the bed.
“Can I take these off?” He asked in a hurry, already working at the hem. When he got the nod of approval, Harry pulled her underwear down her legs and placed them in his back pocket. His mouth instantly returned to her skin, nipping at her thigh. He brushed his nose against her clit, inhaling her scent. He groaned in approval, flattening his tongue against her core. He lapped up her juices, his mustache tickling the sensitive skin around her vulva. He felt her tug on his hair with a more urgent force. He smirked against her, letting his tongue expand out to flicker over her sensitive clit.
“It’s a bit unfair, isn’t it, petal? How you taste so good? Don’t think I’m going to let you leave this bed.” He muttered against her, just enough so she could hear. His voice was drowned out by her moans as he continued to work his tongue against her.
“Harry, please,” he raised his head, watching as she whimpered out in pleasure.
“Please, what?” He asked, halting his tongue. “Tell me, darling?”
She shook her head in protest, Harry continued his attack until she was shaking but no orgasm came. He moved from between her legs and worked on his belt.
“You want me, hmm? That’s how you come, isn’t it? With my cock, deep inside you?” The vulgar words came out like silk from his mouth.
“Yes, please.”
Harry took no time, he completely undressed himself and crawled over her. He held her in his arms, taking his time as he looked at her face for any reason to stop. Harry watched the way his girlfriend tugged him down, needing him closer. His cock brushed against her vulva, nudged against her.
“You want me to stretch you out, hm? Are you going to be good for me?” He hummed as he lined up to her entrance. “Words baby, talk to me.”
“I’ll be good for you, so good for you.” With that, Harry eased into her tight grip, he let out a sigh of relief. He couldn’t help but get lost in the feeling as he inched forward until he bottom out. Y/N had her face buried into his neck, placing soft kisses against his skin.
The warmth and slickness of her core allowed him to move with ease, he rocked his hips — hitting the curve of her g spot with skilled grace. He could feel the way her chest raced against his own beating heart.
“Christ,” he cursed, letting out a low moan as the space filled with sounds of their skin colliding and their heavy breathing. Harry changed his position, sat up on his knees and used his hands to grab at her hips for leverage. He thrusted deep inside her, drawing himself out fully then back again with force. One of his hands reached up to cup her breast, playing with the sensitive peaked nipple.
“Ooh,” she moaned, “J-Just l-like that, please.” Her nails dug into his skin as he continued.
“That’s my girl,” he praised. He kept the same motion, easily carrying them both over the edge. Harry groaned out in pleasure as his girlfriend moaned out a soft scream that was muffled by her hand. Harry collapsed on top of her, breathless and head spinning when he heard her speak up.
“I— I want another one,” his girlfriend said, Harry looked at her with a raised brow. “Hm?”
“I want another orgasm, please.” His partner begged, so sweetly. It took Harry a few seconds for process her words, a dimpled smile grew on his face. A switch flipped in his mind, he grew greedy to give her exactly what she wanted.
“Okay, uhm… “ he huffed out, rolling onto the bed beside her. “Can you sit on my face, darling? We can start like that when I’ll fuck you again, if you’re not too sore.”
He watched as his quiet girlfriend climbed over, straddling her knees on each side of his head. He didn’t even need to pull her down like usual. She sat down, moaning out when his tongue harshly toyed with her sensitive clit. His hands cupped her arse, massaging and keeping in place as she became a moaning mess. As his girlfriend rocked her hips against his mouth, he reached around and pressed two fingers in her entrance. Y/N let out a whimper as her core tightened around his digits, swollen and sensitive.
Harry had been waiting for this exact moment, his pretty girlfriend requesting more of him was something he always wanted. Regardless of her shyness, he knew she could handle more. She deserved more, especially if she asked for it. Harry used his strength to flip them over on the bed, pulling her down. She squealed at the sudden change. It didn’t take long for Harry to pump his cock twice and become extremely hard again.
“Let’s give you another one, hm? My sweet, pretty girl deserves it.” He eased into her, taking his time to slowly work her up. When he felt her legs shaking, wrapped around him, he pounded into her at an angle. He earned beautiful, breathtaking moans that he never got to hear before. With a grin on his face, he reached down, playing with her sensitive bundle of nerves just as she came around his cock for the second time.
“Fuck, petal.” He cursed, watching where they were joined before pulled out and came on her lower stomach. He let out a low groan, pumping himself a couple of times.
“There she is… Look at what a mess you made. You asked for that, darling. You took it so well, do you know how incredible you are when you tell me what you need?” He praised, giving her a lingering kiss.
Harry reached to grab a small hand towel to wipe her down. “I love you,” he whispered as he began to do his routine aftercare with her. He pulled her close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“I love you, thank you…”
“Thank you,” Harry replied with a cheeky smile. “You exhausted me in the best way possible.”
“Easy, old man.” She teased, with a smile.
“Hey,” he replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. “None of that.”
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