the man who hung the moon (viscount!harry x debutante!reader)
Summary: A ball reunites Y/N with her best friend's brother and childhood love, Harry, sparking unresolved tension, longing, and desire.
Word count: 3.9k
Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, oral sex (female receiving)
A/N: hey guys, i know it's been a long while, but i wanted to come back in honor of bridgerton returning and take a stab at @jarofstyles prompt challenge. hope you all enjoy!
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“Blue is truly your color, is it not, Miss. Y/L/N?” The dressmaker smooths her hands down your dress after making all of her final changes. You suck in a breath and nod, watching yourself in the mirror.
“I suppose so.” You straighten your spine, jutting out your collar bones, and elongating your neck. “But it’s not truly my color, is it? It’s just their favorite.” You show a faux smile to yourself in the mirror as Cordelia grabs your gloves.
“Well, it’s of their favor for an obvious reason, darling.” She takes your right hand and begins slipping on the satin gloves. “Compliments you splendidly.”
You snicker, “That’s quite enough flattery, Cordelia,” She finishes sliding on your last glove, “Mama will make sure you’re paid plenty.” The modiste gains a flush to her face as she now stares at the floor.
You step down from the platform where she had you stand, placing your hands on your hips, looking at Cordelia. “I do wish that you could attend these balls with me.” You do pity the fact that the sole reason for everyone’s wonderful attire may not attend the events herself. She smiles and shakes her head.
“I believe it is not my scene. I’d stand no chance at a ball with the ton.” Cordelia holds an arm out for you to hold as she begins to escort you from the dressing room.
You scoff, “Oh, nonsense,” You gesture to your outfit then to her, “This is your doing, you should be able to accompany me to parade the fact.” She gives you a sad smile before opening the door.
“I admire you, Miss. Y/L/N, I truly do. Now run along,” Cordelia motions her hand out the door, “You’ve got a ball to attend and Lady Y/L/N shall not like it if you are late.”
You shake your head, “No, she shall not.” You give Cordelia a quick hug before a wave goodbye and skipping to your carriage that awaits you. The door is opened for you and there awaits your mother with a smile.
She reaches forward to grab your gloved hand, “Oh, Y/N, this is wonderful.” Your mother loved every bit of the courting season. From seeing her daughters in their stunning gowns to watching them enter their womanhood. It was her most favorite time of the year.
You, however, weren’t very fond of it. But you wouldn’t ruin it for your mother. So, you nodded with a smile in response, “Yes, Cordelia did quite a good job, didn’t she, mama?” Your mother nods her head in an excitement that warms your heart.
“Oh yes, dear, she just gets better every time.” The smile on your mama’s face is exactly what made all of this worth it. Because otherwise you would have no problem with the ton referring to you as some sort of spinster. And unfortunately, they might start referring to you that way because so far this season, you’ve sent away all of your suitors. Of course, it didn’t make your mama all that happy, but she learned to appreciate every bit of your surrender.
You sit back in the carriage, resting your hands in your lap as you stare out the window. Your mother clears her throat, gathering your attention again.
“Alexandra’s brother is back from his ventures.” She says. Alexandra is your best friend and the daughter of your mother’s best friend, so of course you knew that Viscount Styles had returned. You want to laugh in your mother’s face because you know exactly what has brought this upon her. But you don’t snicker, you just hum.
“Oh, is he?” You could feel your mother’s gaze all about the side of your face, trying to gouge any reaction. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get one.
“He is.” She reached across the carriage to grab your hand. “As I heard it, he’s looking to finally settle down.” The look in your mother’s eyes was so innocent and hopeful that it made you feel guilty. You and Harry, Viscount Styles, used to have a silly connection when you were in your younger years. Him being the older brother of your best friend added a certain charm to him, you supposed. If you had not known him so well, you might really pursue him. But you knew who and how Harry was, and you couldn’t be sure that you would be the one to change that.
“Well, I suppose he should be.” You dropped your mothers hand as the carriage drew to a stop and the doors opened. You climbed out of the vehicle and waited for your mother, looping your arm through hers. “Ready?”
She nodded, “If you are.”
Stepping into the palace, there was an immediate jump in noise, a large crowd chatter amongst each other and participating in some waltzing. You and your mother had only taken one step into the room before you had a man stumbling over to you. A suitor that had made you particularly nauseous. Lord Livingston, Duke of Hampshire, was 40 years your elder and not what you were looking for… whatsoever.
Lord Livingston grabbed your hand immediately, placing a kiss upon it with his brutally dry lips. You tried not to wince as he acted, instead bowing to him, considering his royalty.
“Miss. Y/L/N, how stunning you look tonight.” You painted a smile on your face, as not to displease your mother as she stood beside you.
“Lord Livingston, it’s always a pleasure.” Except it never was. It made you think most terrible thoughts, such as had his late wife died of natural causes, or had she killed herself? You chanced a glance at your mother and she gave you a guilty smile.
“Why don’t you give Lord Livingston your first dance?” She pushed at your back, pushing you closer to him. It was at this moment you wished you didn’t love your mama as much as you did because if it weren’t for that alone, Lord Livingston would not be anywhere near you.
But still you gritted your teeth in a smile, muttering, “Sounds delightful,” following him to the dance floor. You observed him as you followed behind. The man wore a powdered toupee that was so obviously faux, and had a hunch where his nose pointed to his toes. You hoped that years from now you would look back on these days and be grateful you went through this to find the one you love. If that was possible.
A ballad began and you grabbed the duke’s hand, waltzing to the beat with him. He was unbearably slow. It seemed that every suitor so far could never match your tempo, which was truly infuriating. In fact, only one man had ever matched your tempo in your 18 years of living. The same man who taught you.
Livingston stuck his nose in your neck and sniffed, “You smell so lovely.” You felt bile rise in your throat. The duke and his hot breath on your neck was starting to make you spiral.
You swallowed whatever had risen in your throat and smiled, “Thank you.” His hand cruised up and down your waist as you danced painstakingly slow and everything about the moment was making you feel sick. You looked around the room searching for any possible way out. Should you ask him to get you a drink? Should you say you were feeling ill? It wouldn’t be a lie. However, before you had any longer to plot your escape, a hand landed on Lord Livingston’s shoulder.
“Duke,” spoke a voice above you, “Would it be okay if I stole Miss. Y/L/N for a dance of my own?” You knew that voice well.
You looked up and saw none other than Viscount Styles, towering above both you and the duke. The breath nearly left your lungs as you saw him. He looked older, more mature, but in a way that made your stomach swirl. His once short locks now met his shoulders. Everything about his new look sent a wave of unwanted chills through your body.
Lord Livingston grinned, “Ah, Viscount Styles. Back from France I see.” He passed your hand to Harry’s. When your hands connected, a spark twinkled. “She’s all yours.”
Harry bowed his head to the duke before he turned back to you. You were both thankful and anxious at his presence. He could sense this, you suppose, because rather quickly, one of his silly smirks graced his face.
“Y/N,” He whispered as he put you both in the proper position to start a waltz.
“Harry,” You avoided his eye contact and straightened your spine. The orchestra begins and just as you remembered, you and the pesky Viscount fall into a familiar rhythm. You hear him chuckle just slightly over the music. “What’s so funny, Styles?”
He smirks and shakes his head, “Just feels like we’re kids again, doesn’t it?” He spins you and pulls you against his chest. “Remember the first time I taught you and Lexi to dance. She stumbled over her feet, still does. But you, you picked it up right away.”
You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. However, you decided to disregard his statement. “How was France?”
“Relaxing.” He spoke as you both moved in sync. “Had no obligations or pressure,” He paused for a second before speaking again, “I think you would have liked it.” You would have loved it. But how would he have known that? But instead of asking him this, you just chuckle.
“Get away from all of this? Who wouldn’t?” You meant for the question to be lighthearted, but the way that he looked into your eyes after you spoke made your stomach jump. His fingers lightly tickled your lower back.
“I think most everyone here would like to stay right where they are. We’ve always been different.” This was very true. While Alexandra was your very best friend and you went to her for everything, you and Harry always had more similar interests. You both would spend your days in either your backyard or theirs, navigating your way through the croquet hoops in the lawn while Lexi played piano inside. Sometimes you both would get distracted with the bugs in the gardening, trying to collect as many as you could. You would try to bring them inside to show your parents and your mothers would just laugh and shoo you away.
It never bothered you that you and your best friend had differing interests, you were just glad that you did have someone to engage in your favorite activities with. Besides, on the days you would stay in and paint, which you loved to do, it would have a wonderful backtrack of Lexi’s newly learned ballad.
You let a smile slip. “Yes, we have. Grub and worm collectors.” He chuckled and pulled you closer to him as you danced. You two were finally looking each other in the eye and the warmth in your body felt just as it used to when you were young and giddy.
Harry removes you from your little daze as he asks, “Do you still paint?” And while you know the answer to the question, the fact that he remembered at all mixed with just the smell of him made you feel woozy.
You swallowed the saliva in your mouth, nodding. “Yeah, all the time.” You were careful not to misstep as the music began to gain speed and felt yourself begin to perspire.
He leans in beside your ear, so as not to speak over the music, “While I was in the countryside, these lovely folk let me stay in their home. The view from my bedroom,” He paused and you could feel the smile on his face, “Y/N, you would have been in heaven. It’s all I could think of every morning when I looked out. How you would have painted the scene so well.” The thought made your face heat and butterflies flutter against your rib cage.
You pulled back so you could get a proper look at his face. “You thought of me?” You say just over a whisper.
He smiled and lifted his shoulder in a shrug, saying “Hard not to,” as if it was the most simple thing in the world.
But then you began to think about the fact that he never wrote and it made you wonder if he really did miss you, or if this was just some charming facade. You could feel your face curl in confusion and Harry laughed. “What?”
You shook your head, “Just haven’t seen or heard from you in quite some time. Hard to believe you thought about me out in the countryside of France.” Your voice had somewhat of a sour tone to it, and you couldn’t understand why.
The music slowed and the ballad came to a stop. You took a step away and bowed, “Thank you for the dance.” You quickly turned to move toward wherever you could get something to quench your thirst, but your wrist was caught and you were turned back.
“Well,” Harry said as he pulled you back to him. “Did you think about me?”
You felt your chest rise and fall in deep breaths. Nothing within your soul felt like you could lie to the Viscount. So you whispered to him the truth. “Everyday.”
This time he didn’t smirk or grin, he just nodded and brushed a hair off your shoulder, face still as stone. “Very well.” Then he dropped your wrist and left you alone on the dance floor, probably off to a new conquest that would take the bait and end up in his bed by dark.
You stood there, squeezing your hands in fists then letting them go. But in the midst of your sadness and fury, there was a tap to your shoulder. You spun to see none other than your best friend. You painted a smile on your face.
“Hi,” She offered you a flute of something, and you took it from her, sipping it down in a second. She laughed, “Quite thirsty?”
You sighed and nodded, “Parched.” Once you had come to your senses, it occurred to you that you had rudely not greeted Lexi yet. You wrapped your arms around your best friend. “I missed you dearly.”
This, again, made her laugh. “It’s been only a day, Y/N.”
You sighed, “And oh, a day it’s been.” Grabbing her free hand, you asked, “And how pesky has it been having your brother back in the house?”
Alexandra shrugged, setting her glass down on the nearest table. “Honestly? Not bad at all. It’s as if he picked up some manners on his travels. Goes to bed early, really only drinks tea before bed, and you know how he normally reaches for-”
“Whiskey.” You finished, nodding. As much as you had wanted to think that Harry had not changed one bit, it seemed that most signs were pointing to quite the opposite. Most of them, anyway.
However, when you looked over Lexi’s shoulder, there was the viscount, smirking at the words of another lady. You would marry Harry in a second if you knew he’d truly changed. But deep down, you knew he could never shake the person that he was. The countryside of France wasn’t that powerful.
“Y/N” You snapped out of it, bringing your attention back to Alexandra. “You alright?”
You painted a smile on your face and nodded. “Yes, my apologies, it’s just so warm in here I can hardly think. I’m going to grab some fresh air, perhaps out in the garden.”
Lexi’s face seemed to be one of confusion as you turned and tried your best to find your way out of the ballroom. You slipped out of a side door in the lobby, leading yourself out to a balcony of sorts. You find yourself curling over the railing, letting out a deep sigh as you rest your head in your hands.
Why was it that you let the boy, now man, burrow so deeply under your skin? You wished you could understand it, find a way to stop it. When you were a little girl, you looked at Harry like he hung the moon, at least that’s what your mama said. And as much as you wanted that to change as you grew older, the longing only grew stronger. Now, you looked at him like he was friends with the stars and connected to the planets, like he controlled the solar system. That was the problem. Because to him you were just a person on earth, so far below the night sky.
You straightened your body and looked out at the vast field. It would make for a spectacular game of croquet, you thought. You don’t hear it, too deep in thought while staring into the abyss, but the door opens and closes. Before you can stop it, a body leans over the railing beside you. You knew who it was, you could feel it.
“How can I assist you, Viscount?” You voice, sight still set straight towards the forest.
His hand slides across the rail to yours, brushing against it. When he speaks, it’s soft, but sure. “You can marry me.”
Your spine freezes and you take a small breath, finally turning to look at him. The viscount, of course, is already looking at you, nostrils flared and his eyes giving you a look that made your stomach feel as if it caged butterflies. You stared at him for a long moment, wondering if the words had truly escaped his mouth. Waiting long enough with the thought that maybe he would take them back, say he did not mean them. Surely he didn’t mean them. But the longer you waited, the longer he stayed still and persistent.
You let out a breathy laugh, looking away from him, because if you looked into his eyes any longer you would say yes. “That is ridiculous.”
Harry slides closer to you, “Is it?”
You shake your head and pull away from the railing, “Yes, Harry, it is completely foolish and I will not marry you.” You have to laugh again. “You don’t want me and you never will.” You turn, making a start towards the door, “Now, if you’ll excuse me-”
His hand grasps your forearm, pulling you back to him. You gasp, his eyes wilder than before, having a way about them that made you feel completely exposed. Almost as if he was about to yell at you like a father, or punish you like you were a child. Puffs of air began to leave his lips and his brows became furrowed as he leaned close to you.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” Harry spoke quietly, hand dropping your wrist and eyes wandering down to your lips. “You have no clue how mad you make me, how badly I yearn to touch you. To hear the sounds you’d make for me. I’ve been keeping it to myself for your benefit, but holding my tongue I can no longer. Not when I long to taste you on it.” The step forward was tentative but not shy, hand reaching out to your throat as knuckles dragged over the skin, feeling the pulse fluttering like the butterflies that were once caged in your stomach. “Just let me have you. Even if it’s just once.”
Your jaw began to clench, because how fitting was this? But how good did it feel to be wanted? To be so rawly craved and desired.
His hand snaked up to cup your jaw. When you looked at him you realized this was all you had ever wanted, but everything that you could never have. Your eyes closed and your head shook slowly in his hold.
“No, no, no, no,” You whispered repeatedly. You should’ve pulled away from his touch, but you could only feel yourself drifting closer to him until eventually you’re whispering “no” and planting your lips on his anyway.
You wrapped your arms around the viscount’s neck and his dropped to the lower sliver of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. You had never kissed another before but you imagined that they didn’t all feel like this. All the stars that Harry had hung in the sky had now been placed between the two of you.
Harry moved you both until your back touched the cold brick of the house. A noise rose from your throat as you kissed him as best you could. You wanted to kiss him so well he would never think of any of the women before you. That you would be his soul want and need.
He pulled away from your lips, swiftly moving to make a path of pecks down your neck and to the neckline of your dress. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you watched him, your eyes blown wide as he looked up at you.
“You’ll marry me, won’t you?” He whispers as he lowers down to his knees. His hands slide up your bare legs, the bottom of your dress climbing higher with his hands. His lips begin peppering kisses on your thighs. “You love me, don’t you?”
You didn’t answer, instead tried to swallow the sounds that attempted to leave your mouth as he drug your drawers down your legs. He stuck them inside his jacket and his head disappeared beneath your shift.
“Oh-” Your hand left his hair to cover your mouth as you felt his tongue prod at your wetness. The sensation felt so strange, but so good. You had to imagine he knew what he was capable of, he knew how good he was. Harry licked a strip up your arousal before dipping it inside of you as nose nudged at your clit. You knew that the hand over your mouth did nothing to conceal the noises that were flowing from your mouth, but you didn’t have enough care inside of you.
Harry’s mouth detached from you as he pulled his head out from under your dress and pushed a finger inside of you. You threw your head against the wall, not even being able to process that pain that it caused.
“That’s it,” He whispered as he stared at you, almost entranced, “My wife.” You didn’t need to speak the words, he knew you. You’d be his bride without question.
“Harry,” You whined, your hips bucking against his hand. You had never felt pleasure like this and it began to crawl all over your body and infect your veins.
“Just feel it, darling.” He encouraged with the addition of another finger, his other hand traveling under to rub at your nerves.
Your eyes squeezed shut as you shook your head, feeling the pressure build. “I- I don’t-”
And before you could even understand what was happening, sparks traveled throughout your body and your legs became weak and shaky. Constant mutters of his name flowed out of your mouth as he held you up and worked you through the high. When you began to shiver at the feeling, Harry pulled away and straightened your dress, then taking his fingers and sliding them against his tongue.
The viscount stood and his hand returned to its previous spot on your jaw and as you looked at the man who hung the moon you couldn’t help but let the words fall from your lips.
Prompt #2 of the jarofstyles writing challenge (the bold section)
Summary: Three months after your plane crashed, you've grown used to living on an island, wearing the clothes of the dead, and sleeping next to a celebrity you barely know. But you've gotten too comfortable, and with the threat of something new coming, how can you keep surviving under these conditions?
7.7k words
A/N: i wanna thank @jarofstyles for hosting this challenge, this was a lot of fun! and it gave me an excuse to binge through Lost again 😂 i hope you all enjoy it
C/W: overthinking/anxious reader, plane crash, survivor's guilt, mentions of people dying/taking their own lives, food insecurity, smut, oral (f!receiving), p-in-v penetration, pregnancy scare (pretend you didn't see that)
You had tried to follow your therapist's advice. “If you feel nervous, just look out at the fluffy clouds. Imagine landing on top of them, like a very large soft blanket,” she had said. But when you could dare to peek out the airplane window, the vast open sky held not a single cloud, giving way to the bottomless ocean underneath. As if being in a thousand pound flying machine wasn't stressful enough, the possibility of not only crashing, but crashing then being pulled under, dragged into the dark abyss of the sea, your final breath being a last panicked gulp before you're left waiting to run out of air, your body consumed by the creatures lurking in the deep…
Once you got back home, you were changing therapists. You thought she might prescribe you some Xanax or something, not give you useless words of encouragement.
Now, you had to suffer through this agonizing flight to Japan for a bullshit work event with every anxious thought floating around your sober mind. What if the engines failed? What if the plane was hijacked? What if the pilots fell asleep and the autopilot didn't activate and absolutely no one else knew how to fly a plane? What if-
“You alright?”
Ripping your gaze away from the window, you turn to face your seat mate, where- holy shit, that was Harry Styles. Since finding your seat, you hadn’t bothered to look at any other passengers, too frightened to acknowledge anyone else. You had noticed someone sitting in your aisle but your eyes were enraptured by the legal jargon printed onto the back of the barf bag, you didn’t pay attention to who they were. Leaning across the empty seat between the two of you, his eyebrows raised in a knowing, gentle question, Harry waits for a response that’s stuck in your throat, unable to speak around the prickling fear that roots itself there.
“Your leg hasn't stopped bouncing since we took off,” he observes, pointing at your restless leg, his accent even more hypnotic and alluring in person.
“Sorry,” you rush out, holding your leg down with both your hands, embarrassed that your anxieties were bothering someone else, let alone someone like Harry Styles.
“Not much of a flier?”
With a shaky breath, you shake your head. “Not really.”
“You mind if I…” he trails off, rethinking his words until he stands up. “Here, let’s-” Settling back down into the seat next to you, Harry reaches across you to the window, pulling down the cover, obstructing the view. As his arm stretches over you, you notice the mermaid tits that are practically shoved into your face, along with the other tattoos you’ve only seen through your phone screen before. “It might help if you’re not constantly aware of how high up we are.”
An unnaturally high giggle forces itself out, your nerves melting into flustered embarrassment at being attended to by Harry fucking Styles. “Thanks, I’ve never been on a plane before,” you admit, your cheeks flushing underneath his attentive gaze.
His lips raise in a friendly smile, holding out his hand, palm up, towards you. “Well if you get scared, you can always hold my hand.”
At that moment, the plane jostles, rumbling in the air. Passengers gasp at the sudden stuttering, while others laugh, attempting to ease the tension. Your seatmate still watches you, his green eyes never peeling away, the same easy grin on his face. The plane rattles again, then careens forward, a collective shriek erupting from the crowd. A flight attendant falls atop one of the passengers, the cart she was manning knocks over, spilling snack bags and alcohol along the floor. From above, oxygen masks drop, alerting you to the severity of the situation.
Panting with panic, you reach up for the mask but it's out of reach, no matter how far you stretch for it. When you look down, your seatbelt has buckled itself, trapping you in your seat. Your hands are too unsettled, shaking too violently, the belt can't be undone. Plump tears fall as you struggle, fighting to save yourself. You look back at Harry, frozen still with his kind expression.
“Just hold my hand,” he instructs.
Unable to do anything else, stuck in your chair, certain you were about to face your death, you slipped your hand into his. As soon as your fingers close around his hand, his friendly face droops into a deeply exaggerated frown, misery and fear flooding his eyes, his mouth tight as he mumbles to himself. Inching closer, until you can make out his words over the screams of the other passengers, you hear his condemnation, the last thing you’ll ever hear.
“We’re not going to make it.”
Gasping awake, your eyes shoot open, the rest of your body rigid with stress. Your body glistens with sweat, your hair is matted to your forehead, your muscles tight with leftover tension, expecting a crash that already happened. It was bad enough to be haunted by the memories of that disaster when you were awake, then they'd warp at night, following you into sleep with alterations. Sometimes the plane landed in the water, dooming your body to decay on the ocean floor, and sometimes, rarely, the plane righted itself and flew safely home, your mind torturing you with the impossible. And sometimes, like the dream you just had, you died.
The one constant in every version of the dream was when you grabbed Harry's hand.
Three months… three months of being stranded on an island with no idea if you'd ever be rescued, if you'd ever see your family again. Three months of relearning how to live, how to survive without any of the modern amenities you've grown accustomed to. From figuring out how to make the ocean water drinkable, to building a home that could withstand the tropical weather, every day challenged your mortality in new, unexpected ways.
At first, 46 people survived, that number slowly dwindling as their injuries bled them dry. Seven people left in search of the front section of the plane and never returned, four ate berries that they learned were poisonous tragically too late, and one person chose to walk into the ocean, unwilling to adapt to their new life. More time passed and folks grew paranoid about a rescue that never came. After three weeks, one of the passengers snapped, attacking anyone near him until he ran off into the jungle, laughing and howling as he escaped. His body was later found at the bottom of a cliff, mangled and disfigured from the fall.
Morale tumbled at that point. People broke off into groups, no longer willing to put their faith and their lives in the hands of those they didn’t know, believing they could make it on their own.
Now, the only people left at the original beach camp were yourself and Harry Styles, the famous singer who helped put your oxygen mask on when fear paralyzed you in your seat, the man who held your hand through the whole descent.
The man who was currently sniffling awake next to you, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes. “Another nightmare?”
“Yeah,” you say between breaths, practicing the technique your therapist had taught you. Inhale for four seconds, hold, then exhale for four, repeating the process until your white-knuckled grip on the blanket eased. At least you had learned one helpful thing from her before you were unable to attend another session.
Harry rolls over to face you, groaning as he blinks his eyes open. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks around a yawn, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. In three months, Harry’s already used to reaching out for you, feeling you beneath his palm.
Shaking your head, you decline his offer. “It was nothing new,” you diverted, “just the same old dream.” These nightmares infested your brain, but you didn’t see the point in dragging Harry down every time they plagued you. You refused to let your diseased mind spread.
He noses at your shoulder, his fingers gently coaxing your head to turn towards him. Your unfocused eyes sharpen, locking onto his, the pupils overwhelming his irises. “Do you need help getting out of that pretty head of yours?”
“Yes, please,” you beg breathlessly, melting underneath his intensive stare. Tears prickle behind your eyes, threatening to spill over his attentive care but you keep them back. Water was a precious resource, it couldn’t be wasted over trivial emotions.
Since being stranded on this island, without the easy convenience of alcohol or weed, the best way you found to quiet your tumultuous mind was by distracting it with sex. It was impossible for your brain to fret over mortality while bouncing on a cock. And Harry had been all too willing to offer his services, with his fingers, his mouth, any part of him that he could use to help get you off. He said it helped him too, that concentrating on somebody else made him feel less useless, like he had a purpose. So, whenever the tragedy of your situation felt like too much to handle, you could rely on one another to work through it, or, at least, ignore it long enough that it didn’t physically weigh you down.
Your lips rush to meet his, losing yourself in the kiss. Harry suckles on your bottom lip, wetting your chapped lips with his tongue. Groaning into your mouth, Harry rolls on top of you, holding himself up with his forearms, pinning your hips down with his own.
“Run me through your day,” he tells you as he crawls down your body, kicking the blanket down onto the sandy floor. His fingers pull at the straps of your tank top, the white garment stained with sweat and stiff with overuse. Latching onto your collar bone, he sucks another mark next to the others, decorating your chest with pretty purple bruises in the shape of his mouth.
Whimpering underneath him, your nails scratch at his scalp, holding him close. His hair is growing longer, starting to hang past his ear. “We do the same things everyday, Harry, you know my schedule.”
“Yeah, but my memory’s feeling a little foggy,” Harry says, his fingers making loopy circles near his head, his grin deepening into a cheeky smirk. His fingers dip into the frayed hem of your shirt, lifting it up and exposing your stomach. “So I’d appreciate it if you could remind me of all the important chores we have to do.”
Laughter hums in your throat as you lean up, helping Harry remove the tattered top. Your breasts have shrunk, your ribs more prominent, your body flaunting the lack of nutrients. “Well, first, we have to check the nets,” you sigh, closing your eyes when you feel Harry’s tongue swirl around your nipple. “S-see if we caught any… any fish and re-repair any tears in the- in the netting.” Your words catch on whimpers as Harry laps up your tit, twisting your other nipple with his fingers.
“Keep going,” he instructs, releasing your nipple with a wet pop, leaving a bead of spit on the tip. Harry dips down and collects his spit, returning it inside his mouth. The drag of his tongue over your reddening nipple shoots pleasure straight through to your cunt, contracting at the sensation.
Your hands drop to your sides as Harry travels lower down your body. “We have to check on the garden and the traps, see if there’s anything.” Skepticism bleeds through, knowing neither of those methods have yet to yield any food. Was it really worth it to waste the energy marching through the jungle only to find out the seeds you planted haven’t taken root?
“Hey,” Harry interrupts your wandering mind. “Come back to me, yeah?” He waits for the glaze coating your eyes to disappear, waits for you to nod your head before patting your thigh. “There she is. Need you to lift your hips for me.” His hands tug at your underwear, a pair that didn’t belong to you before the crash. You follow his orders, raising up your body so Harry can drag the fabric down your legs, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy, as if his face hadn't been buried between your thighs last night. Leaning down so he's hovering above your crotch, a smile breaking out across his face, Harry stares back up at you. “Ok, and what's next?”
He stays there, his head held high over where you want him most. When your hips buck up, desperate for his touch, he forces your body back down against the layer of sleeping bags that make up your bed, holding you agonizingly still.
Throwing your head back with a whine, you recall where you left off on your chores list. “After the garden and the traps, we should check on the SOS si-" Your words are cut off with a gasp that morphs into a hearty groan as Harry licks a strip up your center. But when you stop, so does Harry, his tongue freezing against your clit.
You lean up on your elbows to stare down at him, dumbfounded by his precise restraint. Blinking up at you, Harry pants against you, a rumbling growl deep in his chest, growing louder as he waits for you to continue. He looks like a predator, like a lion lying in wait for its prey, impatient for its next meal. “W-we should check on the SOS sign, make sure it's, oh God, make sure it's still visible,” you continue, concentrating on not stopping while Harry flicks his tongue against your clit. “Mmm and then we will che-eck on our rain wa-wa-wa-water, refill our… our fuck, fuck, our bottles.”
Harry’s eyes are hooked on you, dark and lustful, intently watching how your body reacts to his wriggling tongue. The way your nipples twist, the goosebumps pimpling your skin, the flex of your hand as you grip the makeshift bedding in tight squeezes. Every word you struggle to form edges him on, lapping at the same spot harder, pressing his nose closer, doing anything to get you to stutter again.
“Th-then I’ll do the… the laundry, oh my God! And then we’ll make d-d-dinner.” You’ve reached the end of your day, listed all your obligations, and with nothing more to check off, you worry Harry will freeze up again.
Instead, Harry’s tongue flattens against your lips, lathering your cunt with his saliva. Between your thighs, you feel wet, wet, wet, unable to distinguish his spit, your sweat-soaked thighs, and your leaking arousal. His emerging facial hair tickles your skin, the prickles of his mustache brush against your clit in teasing caresses. Bristles of his beard scratch at your thighs, catching the excess dripping out of you, collecting it on his chin. Another resource that Harry wasn’t going to waste.
Moans are all that leave your mouth now, sometimes a pathetic plea for more slips out. Harry’s cheeks hallow out as he sucks on your sensitive nub. Your hands comb through his hair, pushing his curls away so you can watch him ravage you. When his eyes glance up, meeting yours, you feel a spark of connection, a flash of something more intimate than when your naked bodies collided together, something deeper than he could reach with just his cock.
Feelings were complicated enough when you weren’t stranded on an island. So instead of focusing on the pang in your chest, you lean back and redirect your attention to the orgasm that’s beginning to rise. Closing your eyes, you block out everything except the feel of Harry’s tongue.
Until he stops.
“What are you-”
Harry’s climbing over you, using one hand to shimmy his boxers down his legs. “I need you to focus on me, okay?” Even though it’s posed as a question, his tone doesn’t offer any room for argument. Maintaining eye contact, Harry lowers himself, sliding his cock over your cunt. “Need you to watch.”
Your body shivers as his head ruts against your clit, a cover for the goosebumps that break out along your skin. “God, you are a narcissist,” you tease with a breathy laugh, masking your insecurity behind jokes.
His dick circles back around, rubbing over your bud again, breaking up your laughter with coos of pleasure, your eyes screwing shut at the sensation. Grasping your jaw between his fingers, Harry orders, “Eyes on me.”
Lazily, your eyes blink open, staring back into Harry’s blown out eyes.
“That’s it.” Without moving his gaze, Harry reaches down, adjusting himself until his throbbing hard cock rests at your entrance, enveloped by the warmth emitting from your pussy. “Ready?” he asks. He always asked, offering you the chance to back out. So far, you haven’t.
Today’s not any different.
“Ready.”
Pushing forward, Harry’s dick slides inside, your cunt giving way to him. Your body has become accustomed to his thickness, to this intrusion, welcoming him back easily. As he continues pushing, slipping deeper, your eyes threaten to close, wanting to revel in the feel of him, to treasure each inch that sinks into you. But every blink is met with the pinch of his fingers, making sure you look back up at him.
“Eyes on me, that’s it, honey,” he grunts, taking in a deep inhale. “Let me see those pretty eyes.”
Doing as you’re told, you watch him. His skin is darker, a faint orange tint lingers from the time he accidently used tanning lotion instead of sunscreen. Hair cascades down around him, curling in on his face. You comb it back, uncovering the constellation of freckles patterned across his forehead. Beneath the beard, the shine of your slick coated his chin. He was easy to look at, you’d catch your eyes drifting towards him while you’re cooking dinner or when you watch the sunset. It’s when his seafoam eyes, bright as crystals, alluring as sirens, look back at you that you alter your gaze, directing them back to the horizon.
Now, he makes you confront his stare, competing with him over who will break eye contact first.
Harry's face tightens once he's fully sheathed, scrunching up his nose and gritting his teeth when he's encapsulated by your quivering warmth, resolving himself to restraint.
In contrast, your eyes widen when the stretch of his dick nudges against the spot that has your toes curling, your nails digging into his scalp. Slack jawed, your groan is interrupted by a sharp gasp, panting shallowly as he pulls back. When he thrusts back in, you greet him with a cross-eyed moan, blinking rapidly.
“C'mon, honey.” Harry twines his fingers with your, moving your interlocked hands over your head. “Need you to concentrate. Need you- fuck, I need you.” He rests his forehead against yours, so that all you can see is him, his eyes, locked on to yours.
Every time he thrust into you, he reached that same spot, your moans pitching with each harsh pump of his cock.
“Right there?” Harry grinds himself back and forth, prodding at the sensitive space. Your legs leap off the ground, encircling his body and pulling him closer, deeper. “Yeah,” he growls, smirking at the way your legs tremble around him. “Right there.”
With nowhere else to look, you’re forced to watch all the emotions that pass through him. The relieved desire when he pushes in, the raw pleasure he basks in when your walls clamp around him, the frustration of pulling out, of leaving your warmth…
The unfiltered adoration when you squeeze his hand, the unrestrained devotion at the sounds you make…
Lost in the depths of his eyes, you're overwhelmed with your budding orgasm, about to crest over the peak. The hand that isn't locked in Harry's grasp pulls his head down to meet your puckered lips, smushing them together, your teeth clicking on the impact. Sloppy, messy, the kiss is far different from the softer emotions he was displaying. Using your legs, you rush your hips up to meet his, trying to speed your way to your climax, forgoing his infatuated gaze.
Harry momentarily freezes before adapting, thrusting faster. Letting go of your hand, he lifts your leg higher, hiking it up his body.
Your moans are swallowed down his throat as he presses deeper into you, your leg quivering in his hold as your orgasm washes over you. Clenching around his cock, your muscles tighten then relax, aftershock waves making your body twitch. Harry keeps thrusting, the pressure around him setting off his own release, groaning into your mouth. Stuttering against you, his hips slow, working you both through the ends of your orgasm, trying to make them last. Tearing away from the kiss, you keep your eyes closed, avoiding the look on his face when he pulls out of you, feeling him flop down into the space next to you.
What was that?
Without his cock to distract you, the flood of worries swarms back in, but instead of the usual concerns about your survival, you’re caught up in the intimacy of the moment you just shared and what it could mean. Did it mean anything? Maybe he just liked making eye contact, he's done it before. But this felt different from the other times, this felt more honest, more vulnerable, more real.
You're not even sure you're brain has computed the fact that you have been fucking the famous singer, Harry Styles, for three months. To you, he's been Harry Styles, the guy who saved your life in a plane crash, the guy who made sure you grabbed enough food to eat, the guy who made your worries disappear with his talented tongue. Sure, you knew of his status, you had been a fan for a few years, but you hadn’t considered Harry’s fame before. Now, you had to consider the guy you knew and the guy who’s album you played on repeat were the same person.
This relationship couldn’t withstand the reality of the real world. This wasn’t even a real relationship, so why were you burdening yourself with these thoughts.
If rescue came, what would it mean to be the person who shared a tent with Harry Styles? Would you become just another survivor, someone who had occupied him for the time being? Did he have a relationship with someone back in the real world? You couldn’t remember if he’d broken up with that actress… Were you the other woman? Even if he wasn’t seeing someone, he had a lot more options off the island. All you did was make him feel useless by letting him have his way with you. Anyone else could offer him that.
“What are you thinking about?”
Turning to look at him, you’re relieved to find no traces of the affection from before.
“If you need me to help again, I can use my fingers,” he offers, wriggling his digits for effect.
Despite everything you’ve thought through, you can’t help but wonder one thing.
What would it mean to be loved by Harry?
You were becoming nauseous with your overthinking. “I'm going to go make breakfast, okay?” Standing up, you grab random bits of clothing, shoving body parts into them as you scramble away, knocking aside the panel of parachute that made up your door, and stepping out onto the empty beach, needing to distance yourself from Harry and his distractions. For once, you wanted your brain clouded and disjointed, so you didn’t have to think about what just happened.
Acid burns in your throat, your mouth filled with the taste of the breakfast you had just vomited back up. Maybe you hadn’t fully cooked the fish, that’s why you were feeling so sick. Another wave courses through you, the bile rising before you make yourself swallow it down. You were already malnourished, you couldn’t afford to waste any more food.
Harry had wandered off toward the traps, checking if any animals had been caught. Someone had suggested building traps around the garden, in case any creatures attempted to thwart your burgeoning produce. Whoever’s idea it was, they weren’t around anymore, the traps were all that remained of them. Unfortunately, the wild animals weren’t attracted to plants that weren’t growing, so they didn’t venture near the garden nor the traps.
Right now, though, bent over the pile of fish you threw up, the thought of having to butcher a rabbit or a small rat, makes your empty stomach turn, equal parts hungry and disgusted.
“Are you okay?”
You sigh before spitting out the bits still stuck to your teeth. “Yeah,” you nod, forcing yourself upright, “I'm fine.” The words aren’t convincing to your own ear, so you add on a big, cheery grin, hoping it will sell your lie better.
Clearing his throat, Harry indicates the area around the right side of his mouth. “You have… you’ve got fish guts in the corner…”
“Dammit.” You turn away from him, cleaning the mess away. When your fingers find the chunk stuck in the crease of your lips, you have to breathe deeply and carefully so you won’t retch again.
“Is that the third time this week you haven’t been able to keep your breakfast down?” Harry questions you, briefly eyeballing the mound of regurgitated fish before pressing the back of his hand to your head. “Your skin is pale and clammy, too.”
“I’m fine,” you insist, angling your body away from his pervasive touch. “It’s just a stomach bug or something.” You were already feeling bad enough, you didn’t want to cause Harry to worry over you.
Harry wasn’t letting up, wasn’t letting you go. One of his hands wraps around your wrist, wrestling with you to keep yourself still. “Will you just let me get a look at you?”
“Get off me, Harry, I swear, I’m fine, Harry I-” you argue with him, twisting and turning in his grip as you try to escape from him. All the movement is making you dizzy, your stomach churning. “God dammit, Harry, stop! Get OFF!” you shriek, yanking your arm out of his hold. The momentum carries you down, landing in the dirt, your cheek scrapping along the ground.
As blood pools from your new scratch, you want to revel in this moment. Trapped on an island with no foreseeable way home, arguing with a pop star who fucks you till you’re stupid, struggling to survive despite a body that wants to give up. Why did you even bother feeding yourself when nothing stayed in your belly? Why didn’t you die like all the others on the plane? If they had survived, they wouldn’t be so careless, they wouldn’t ruin their own meals like you have. But they were dead, and you were one of the lucky survivors. You want to lay in the dirt, near the pile of fish you’ve expelled, and contemplate how exactly you ended up here.
You want to, but someone won’t leave you alone.
“Shit, are you okay?” Harry frets, reaching out for you. The weight of his hand on your head startles you, swatting him away.
“No, don’t! Don’t touch me!” you scream, crawling away from him. Where this sudden anger sprouted from, you’re not sure, but you can hear your blood pounding in your ear, marching you further into your rage.
Raising his hands up, Harry continues to stalk after you, trying to reason with you. “Hey, I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t want your help! I want you to leave me alone!” Scrambling to your feet, you retreat further, putting more distance between the two of you. The lashings you're giving him are undeserved, you know this, but you're looking for someone to blame. For your fall, for your upset stomach, for your plane crashing, for keeping you alive, you assign all the responsibility to him.
Taking a breath, Harry keeps after you, his patience thinning. “Look, you’re food deprived and tired, maybe-”
“Oh, wow!” you seethe, standing your ground, ready for a confrontation you started. Harry nearly walks straight into you, surprised by your abrupt stop. “Suddenly you know my body better than me?”
“I didn’t say that. I meant-”
“You think I’m overreacting?”
“I didn’t say that,” he repeats, running his hand over his face, muttering to himself, “Although…”
Scoffing at him, you spin around, walking back through the jungle reeds, stomping through the tall grass.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He doesn’t follow you this time, though you can tell from the way he agitates back and forth, the grass bending around his restless feet, that he wants to.
“I’m going back to camp.”
“We’ve got chores,” he yells after you, “we have to check on the SOS signal, we-”
“I’m going to do my chores back at camp,” you interrupt him. “You wanna worry about a bullshit sign that hasn’t worked, a sign that no one has seen in three months, then go right ahead. I’m not wasting my time.” Storming off, your anger dissipates with each step, but you march forward, determined to not let Harry see the tears crowding your lash line.
Goddammit, what was going on today?
As the sun begins its dip below the horizon, painting the sky orange, highlighting the clouds with twinges of pink, the island is cast in a hazy glow. The sea sparkles like glitter, the sand radiates the sun’s warmth, the palm trees gently sway in the breeze, creating a picturesque view. Someone could get married on this beach, the sunset creating a perfect backdrop. Wherever you were, it was gorgeous, a paradise. But no matter how pretty it was to look at, no matter how much it felt like a dream being here, this place wasn’t a fantasy. It was real, the plane crash was real, the fight you had with Harry was real.
And the thing wriggling in your belly, that was real, too.
The laundry hangs on a wire extracted from the plane, strung up between two trunks, water dripping from the fabric. After collecting the rain water, washing each garment by hand, and wringing them out before hanging them up, Harry still hadn’t returned to camp. So, you kept busy, performing meticulous duties like shaking the sand out of the bedding, twice, weaving scraps of fabric together for some purpose, you haven’t decided what, and there was enough time to spare for a deep, exfoliating cleanse in the ocean, borrowing toiletries from the luggage storage, pretending that you were in the world’s largest bathtub.
During your sea soaked bath, you could do a full inventory of the changes your body has made, the adaptations it made to live here. Your bones were more pronounced through your taut skin, muscles formed where you didn’t have any before, your breasts were smaller, and your belly…
There was the most minute difference, the barest curve in your lower belly that you didn’t recognize. All the other changes your body had gone through, you knew the cause of, except for this one. Your body had hardened over time, but your stomach was growing soft. Hoping it was some severe case of bloating, you pressed against the curve, trying to flatten the area but it wouldn’t give in, remaining in place. Pressing harder, you almost set off another round of vomiting, but you hold it at bay, refusing to lose your lunch of fish jerky and mangos.
This wasn’t… you couldn’t… then again, you’ve been having unprotected sex for three whole months so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibilities.
Quickly finishing up your shower, you throw on some new clothes, covering up the little bump, hiding it away from your sight. You couldn’t ignore it forever, but without Harry here to distract your mind with his long, skillful fingers, you have to do the best you can on your own. So you wear a shirt that hangs on your bony shoulders, one that stretches down past your crotch, obscuring your body from sight.
The sun finally disappears, leaving only a few strands of light in the darkening sky. You weren’t much of a cook before you landed on the island, and you wouldn’t say your skills have improved, but you could start a fire. While you wait for Harry to return, you filet a couple of fish, and set them on one of the stones surrounding your fire pit, letting them roast by the flames. You sit and watch the flesh whiten as it cooks, too confined inside your head to try to distract it with anything other than what was growing inside of you.
What were you going to do? It was one thing to play house with the famous Harry Styles while waiting to be rescued, it was another to actually build a family, to build a life here. And what if you were rescued? You had already resolved yourself to losing him should you ever return home. This thing between you and Harry had only ever been sex, a distraction, something to get your mind off of everything else. Now, he would be intrinsically linked to you, tethered together for the rest of your lives. Would he resent you for it?
“Hey.” Harry’s voice interrupts your anxious thoughts. Strapped to his back, he carries a net made out of wire scraps, full of freshly harvested green fruit. “I stopped by the little orchard we found awhile back, and the fruit looked ripe. Figured I’d grab some for us,” he informs you, a weak smile pulling on the corners of his lips.
Of course he wouldn’t want to address your fight, Harry wasn’t one to dwell on the negatives. You were usually grateful for his easy dismissals, but this one didn’t sit right with you, your stomach was too crowded for any more confusing emotions.
“Har-,” you start, clearing your parched throat before trying again. “Harry, I’m sorry for earlier.”
“It’s alright,” Harry dismisses, grabbing one of the giant balls of fruit, turning it over and inspecting it carefully. “I think this is a jackfruit, or something. You wanna try one?”
Turning around to face him, you give him an incredulous look. “It’s alright? Harry, I abandoned you in the jungle, I left you to do all our chores-”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And you’re just fine with it?”
“Well, no, not really,” he admits. Using the sharp edge of a rock, he punctures through the skin of the fruit, sawing back and forth as he cuts his way through. “There’s a part of me that’s still upset with what you did.”
“Then do something about it!” you shout, standing up from your spot, immediately resorting to anger again. “Yell at me or, or lecture me, do something!”
He sighs, setting his rock knife down. “I don’t want to do that?”
“Why the hell not?” you demand desperately.
The look Harry gives you tempers your fury, dejection and exhaustion swirling in his eyes, his lips pulled tight. He walks over to you, and your first reaction is to run away, to distance yourself again, but you force yourself to remain still. With his arms outstretched, Harry falls into you. “I'm tired.” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in your throat. Body wrapped around you like a vine, you were overheating in more ways than one but you couldn't tell him to move. You wanted him close enough that you could continue to feel his heartbeat. Arms that strong should feel suffocating with how he wound them around your body and kept you to his chest, but you would happily drown in him if it meant keeping him right in this place.
He was just better at speaking those desires out loud.
“I just want you to be with me all the time. As much as I love coming home to you… I don't want to have to keep leaving you behind. Is that too clingy of me to say?”
His definition of ‘home’ almost makes you laugh. A couple of sticks and leftover tarps wasn’t a home. This island wasn’t a home for anyone. But tangled in his arms, inhaling his sweat, his words seeping into your skin, you can’t find it in you to argue. Lifting your arms, reciprocating his touch, you cower into his hold.
In Harry’s arms, you felt safe, secure. Your anxious brain quiets, the world doesn’t feel so imposing. He didn’t make your problems magically disappear, but he made them more manageable.
It wasn’t a home, but home had never felt like Harry.
“I want that, too,” you admit into his collar bones, barely above a whisper.
Tightening his grip on you, Harry’s lips press into your skin, traveling your neck until he reaches your pulse point, sucking on the spot to make you groan, make you melt into him. You sigh as you give yourself over to his touch, letting your mind clear of anything but the electrifying feeling of his fingers as they explore your body. Threading through his hair, your hands tug him closer to you, whimpering into his ear as he nips at the freshly formed bruise. His fingers pinch your nipple, twisting the bud until your moans pitch up, from pleasure into pain, your body lurching away.
Then his hand lowers, brushing over your stomach, and the touch sends a shock of panic through your spine.
“Harry, wait, wait, stop!”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, pulling back with alarm.
Your words stick in your throat, scared to reveal your suspicions to yourself more so than to Harry. Speaking it aloud, would make it real. But you’re tired, too. Tired of carrying all your negative thoughts without an outlet, tired of questioning why you were still alive, you can't hold it all in anymore.
With a shaky hand, you grab Harry's wrist, directing his hand so that it covers your stomach, stretching your hand over his as you say, “I think I'm pregnant.”
His face is unreadable as the news settles in, his eyes widening, his mouth dropping open. He can't keep his gaze focused, flicking between your face, your entangled hands over your belly, the beach, back to you. A breath rushes out of his mouth. “Ar-are you sure?”
“No,” you sigh, shaking your head. “But I… I have a feeling and-”
Harry drops to his knees suddenly, lifting your shirt up until he can see the slight protrusion, feel the little curve for himself, careful with his touch as he caresses the spot over and over. He laughs, breathy and silent, as he looks up at you with glistening eyes. “You're pregnant?” he repeats, his smile wavering as he starts to cry.
The pure elation on his face nearly breaks you. You'd been so consumed with worry, you hadn't even considered he might actually be happy about it. Nodding as you sniffle, you watch Harry as he showers your belly with reverence, kissing the skin and whispering words of admiration. Your knees give out underneath you at the relief, collapsing next to Harry as your thoughts tumble out of you. “What if we're not rescued and I have to give birth here? Do you think we can really raise a kid here? What if I'm not a good mom? And what-”
“Hey, hey, it's okay,” Harry reassures you, petting your hair and wiping your tears away. When you meet his gaze, he still beams with pride, affection brimming alongside his tears. “We'll handle it together. You've got me, and I'm not going anywhere.”
“Is that just because you're stuck here?”
“No, honey, no.” Harry pulls you into his lap, cuddling you into him. “I’m here because I want to be with you. Because you saved me back when we crashed and I will always be in your debt for that.”
“What are you talking about?” All you could remember doing was grabbing his hand and trying not to get in anyone's way as you completely froze up at the surrounding terror. What use was that?
“I was freaking out, I've flown so many times and never, never was I so close to dying. Even after we landed, I was convinced I would get caught under some debris or the engine would explode, I didn’t feel safe. But you just held my hand through it all, you were so calm in the middle of all that chaos, it helped me to not get so stuck within my brain.”
His version of events makes you laugh, tears falling into your mouth as you shake your head. “I was freaking out the whole time. I was trapped in my head and I was so scared, but you were always right beside me, holding my hand.” Bringing your hands up to his face, you smile up at him. “You saved me, Harry, not the other way.”
Rubbing your wrists, Harry just chuckles. “We saved each other.” Leaning forward, Harry kisses your nose. Before he can pull too far away, you shift your head, connecting your lips with his, your tears shedding onto the other’s cheeks. Soon, your hips are rocking atop his, losing yourselves in the familiar pattern of explorative hands, roving mouths, and heated breaths as Harry picks you up, carrying you into the tent, leaving the fish to burn to a crisp. You could make more later, right now, you needed a distraction.
A loud blare wakes you up, startling you from the dream you were having. Muscle memory kicks in as you attempt to shut off your alarm, but your hand just slaps the ground, grainy sand particles sticking to your palm. Groggily opening your eyes, you look around your tent as you realize it’s not your alarm that’s making that noise.
It’s a boat.
“Harry. Harry, wake up!”
Without opening his eyes, Harry bats at your hands that pester him, releasing a tired groan. “Not right now, honey.”
Another loud horn burst interrupts your attempts to wake him, closer this time, louder. Harry sits up immediately, his chest heaving as he looks over at you. For a moment, you both stay in your bed, staring at each other before you’re scrambling out of your sheets, racing to put clothes on and tumbling out of your tent.
Out on the horizon, drifting near, is a shipping vessel, tall canisters stacked atop one another, the first sign of civilization you’ve seen in months!
“HEY!” you shout across the ocean, waving your hands in the air.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, Harry yells, “OVER HERE!”
“HELP!”
“HELLO?!”
“Harry, stay here, I have an idea.” Running back up the beach, the sand dragging your feet, slowing you down, you reach the stash of extra luggage, rummaging through the bags until you find the black box you were seeking. You carry it back over to Harry, throwing it down in the sand, quickly flicking the metal tabs to open it, revealing the flare gun you’ve kept stashed for emergencies. Skimming through the instructions, you load the ammo into the gun.
“Here, let me.” Harry holds out his hand expectantly.
Handing it to him, you keep reading the instructions, relaying them to Harry. “It says to hold it at a forty-five to sixty degree angle, look away, and then fire.”
“Like this?” he double checks, his arm outstretched, his finger close to the trigger.
“I don’t know,” you admit, covering your ears. “Go for it!”
The flare fires off into the sky, the smokey tail trailing after it, before it explodes, red rays of light drifting back down to Earth.
You look out at the ship, hoping, pleading, begging it will spot your distress call. Those pesky anxious thoughts begin to spiral through your mind. What if they didn't see your flare? What if they chose to ignore it?
Just when you’re about to drown in your worries, you feel Harry's hand on your shoulder, comforting, reassuring. Looking up at him, you recognize your same fears in his eyes, but underlying all those concerns, lies a flicker of hope, a fragment of optimism, that you would be rescued. A reminder that you weren't alone, that whatever happened next, you would get through it together.
It feels like hours have slipped by before the ship slows to a halt, releasing another call of its horn. Then a crackling static plays out over a loud intercom before a voice crackles out. From the distance, the words are hard to make out over the lapping ocean waves.
“What’re they saying?”
“I don't know, but… look!” Harry points out across the sea, to where the ship is lowering a sloop, gently settling the tiny boat into the water. “They're coming over here! They're gonna rescue us!”
“Holy shit! We're saved!”
Laughter flutters out of both of you, the two of you grabbing onto each other, spinning and hugging and jumping for joy, whooping and hollering in celebration. Rescue had finally found you.
“Oh my fucking God!” you cheer, leaping into Harry's arms again, wrapping your legs around his waist as he twirls you around, gleefully cackling into your ear. “We're going home!”
“I can't fucking believe it!” he laughs. Setting you back down, Harry brushes your hair out of your face. “Will you meet my mom?”
“Yes, yes, of course!”
“And my sister, too! She'll love you!”
“My family, too!”
“Yes, yes!”
“My sister will be so jealous!”
Talking over each other, your words meld into a cacophony of speech, promises made, sharing parts of yourselves you hadn't revealed, things that felt irrelevant while trapped here.
“You'll have to come with me on tour!”
“I'll follow you anywhere!”
“I can't be without you!”
The details didn't matter, the real world would have to wait.
“Our baby will be born in a hospital!”
“You're having my baby!”
“That's my sister's favorite song!”
“God, I love you!”
“I love you!” you say at almost the same time.
Then you’re not saying anything, because your mouths are too occupied with kissing, quick pecks morphing into deep, open-mouthed tonguing, before breaking away, declaring your love again, then smushing your lips together once more.
You were going home together! There would be challenges you'd have to face, anxious thoughts that would weigh you down, but you would have Harry with you. As long as you were together, anything felt possible.
the lecture period at my university is almost over which means there are a few assignments to finish up. after that things should be less stressful as I just have to write term papers and don't have classes.
that means that i'll have more time to write in feb/march. i haven't forgotten about the fic challenge set by @jarofstyles either, it's on my list! feel free to send in any requests you may have for a one-shot/blurb.
Despite everything, you've returned home to spend the last of your mother's days by her side, only to see the one person you thought you'd never see again standing on the other side of her front door: Harry Styles. Now you have to face the past, the present and the future as each passing day unearths something new that you'd left buried.
WC: 4.8K
Harry Styles x Male!Reader
Warnings: vague mentions of homophobia, death/preparing for death/palliative care (not for either of the main characters!!), brief mention of edibles, emotion heavy (idk guys i'm nervous to post angst).
AN: Loosely inspired by the first prompt from the @jarofstyles fic challenge! Also, this was my first time writing male!reader and while reader is vaguely described and the story mostly consists of internal thought processes and turmoil it's important to the plot to read the story with male!reader in mind (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ‹𝟹
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
The pavement was sticky, shoes stuck. At least you would like to have believed that was true. Immobile, planted, geotropism– root bound to the concrete below. Everything looked the same from where you stood. The same red door, the same rhododendron shrubs that hugged the porch; the only difference now was a dusting of vermillion paint chips beneath. The curtains were half drawn, a few shades lighter than they’d been when you were a kid. Sunbleached. Still everything looked the same.
Deep breath in, deep breath out, the roots came coiling up.
It felt wrong knocking on the door you’d passed through daily for so many years. Your knuckles rapped against the solid wood and inside you heard heavy footsteps bounding towards the door. It swung open, the face greeting you not the face you expected. The face of someone who should not have been standing between you and the depths of your childhood home.
Snapshot memories flashed in bright bursts like a slide projector as you took in his older, more matured face. Sparks of your quiet giggles, a hand on his bicep, the hush of a ‘shhh’ and light footsteps on creaky old floors. Smoke coiling around guarded fingers and lazy smiles; the veil of uncertainty rising like ash in the dead air of the night. Petichae blooming across the pubescent swell of his chest like unfurled threads beneath your nails as the shudder of a laugh choked down to the low drawl of a moan with the shift of your hips.
“Hi,” Harry smiled, shallow. It didn’t quite meet his eyes, but still you saw the new indentations of age that graced his skin. Fine lines that clung to the corners of his eyes and mouth and those same dimples you’d pressed your fingers into so many moons ago. His hair was shorter now, and at the tip of your fingers you swore you could feel the softness of his once long locks brushing between your fingertips– the memory of it etched into the very valleys and grooves, ingrained deep in the DNA of who you were today. It hit with a pang, the changes in his appearance a reminder of what you’d forfeited all those years ago, a winding blow that struck your ribs and stole your breath.
“She’s been moved to the office,” He paused, scanning your face “It’s easier that way,” The clinical tone of his voice shocked something in your system, gone was the lilt of fondness you’d once been privy to.
Trepidation prickled beneath your skin, twisting at the cords of your throat as you dared to glance back at him. It wasn’t unexpected– returning home always brought back old feelings– but the rise in which all your past walls of vigilance came barrelling up still surprised you. The bygone fear of being seen together returned, grasping at your lungs as you scanned the street for any passerbyers.
“No one cares,” He conceded as a certain softness settled in the corner of his eyes.
Something sharp tangled into your expression, his lenity no match for the truth at hand, “I care,” You bit back, “Now can you let me in?”
The office, once nestled in a quiet corner in the back of the grand home unfurled before you as a transformed oasis of comfort care– “palliative,” was the word the head nurse on your mothers team, Irene, had said over the phone.It didn’t matter how quiet his footsteps were, you knew he was there trailing behind you. Before stepping into the room you glanced back into the hallway, his expression was pensive, albeit remorseful. The latch locked into place, in turn shutting out the memories that threatened to rise at your lash line with a quiet click.
Regardless of death, your mother’s taste for opulent things was ever present. She lay, propped up against a throng of silk cased pillows, the sheets the same expensive cream colour she’d always had on her bed upstairs. Although familiar, the bedding did little to masquerade the fact she was propped up in a hospital bed. A fresh bouquet of flowers sat in a crystal vase by her bedside, accompanied by a compact of rouge and her favorite lipstick. A cart stacked full of medications and medical supplies to her right.
It was strange to see her skin so pale, her wrinkled skin now pulled taut by gravity. The years of botox you knew she’d gotten seemed to have done nothing for the end of her days. Her always honeyed hair cascaded in a halo around her head, a clear demarcation from when it was last bleached harsh against her scalp. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen her without her hair styled, the loose waves she’d kept hidden all your life a reminder of the priorities she’d held throughout your childhood.
As a child, when you’d tiptoed down the hallway to her room after a bad dream, she’d seemed rigid, even in sleep. For once she looked peaceful. Her face was relaxed, or at least something that could be read as contentment woven beneath the flesh, but you were only guessing.
There was nothing to be said in the repose of the room, at least nothing that meant anything at this point. So you sat back in the overstuffed armchair that had been moved from the parlour to her bedside, and you sank into the tranquility you’d yearned for in her presence your entire life.
Brushing your thumb over the back of her hand you noticed how her skin had grown crepey, veins thick and protruding through the thin membrane of her body. No amount of cosmetic surgery could fix the truth of the matter, her hands an evading minatory of the truth: your mother had aged, dementia had settled into the valleys of her brain, eating away at everything you’d ever known of her, ultimately robbing you of the fleeting hope that one day she’d be kind.
Despite your best efforts, there was no stopping the tears that welled in your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, choking back the sob that pressed against the base of your throat. There had been so much time to face reality– so much time you’d wasted on trying to forget the past. But how could you face her in such an unknown? You’d done your part. You’d coordinated her care, hiring a nursing agency and clicking the green ‘approve’ button on the website they used for payroll every Sunday. You nodded through their weekly updates, approving changes in her care plan without the blink of an eye; “Whatever you think is best, uh-huh, sounds good.” None of Irene’s updates ever really stuck.
Facing her, even in her final days, was an admission of your failure. Failure as a son. Failure as a man. And worst of all a failure to yourself.
You let the tears fall in cascading rills past the peak of your cheekbones. They were the fat, hot kind of tears. The ones that bring a wave of phlegm and labored breaths. Her fingers were cold between your hands. The spark of the woman you’d known extinguished deep in the hearth of her body. She was alive, but barely.
Maybe it was better that way.
A quiet knock stirred you and your hands fell from your mothers, the brief moment of connection snapping like a taught wire at your fingertips. You sucked back the snot that begged to drip from your nose, wiping away the salt that glazed beneath your eyes. Just as quickly as your walls came crumbling down when you’d stepped into the room, her room, a stronger enceinte rose in its place at the sight of Harry.
His lips pursed at the sight before him, eyes rounding just enough to show a softness you so desperately needed but couldn’t quite take from him. “Sorry to bother,” He murmured, “It’s time for her medication.”
“Of course,” You mumbled as you wiped your hands on the rough denim of your pants.
Rising from the overstuffed armchair you made your way towards the door, just barely crossing paths with Harry as he reached for the cart of her medication.
“You can stay, I’ll only be a minute,” His voice was calm, even in the chaos of your mind. It carried a confidence you so desperately wished you could possess in that moment.
“No, it’s okay, I need a minute.”
You didn’t look back as you exited the room, too afraid of the sight of Harry tending to your mother’s care– tending to the one person who made any prospect of a life with him impossible.
The estate was always quiet, your mother wasn’t one for undue ‘raucous’ as she’d called it. She’d never played music. She’d rarely had friends over. It always felt like such a waste of a home; all this space, all these lush things, and yet it was reserved only for her. Moving through the kitchen you reverted to the same vigilance you’d had instilled since birth. Quiet footsteps, careful deposition– no clanking, no clattering. Even the kettle whistling on the stove top felt like a crime.
As you waited for your teabag to steep, Harry padded into the kitchen, his hands deep in the pockets of his pants. Suddenly the grout of the floor became the most interesting thing in the world.
“She’ll probably be out until this evening,” He broke the silence, “The gabapentin always puts her out for a few hours, at least.”
“Okay, thank you,” You said, raising the mug to your lips, not caring that the brew was still weak.
From your periphery you watched as he leaned against the counter opposite you, arms crossed. Something unspoken hung in the air– a mix of unease and remorse. Something neither you nor Harry felt could be named. You couldn’t bear to look at him, even if he could you.
“I’m really sorry,” Harry broke the silence, the careful timbre of his voice the right frequency to crack whatever fortification you’d built, “I thought you knew.”
Glancing past the rim of your mug, you met his eyes for the first time since your arrival. His lips were pursed, pulled to one corner of his mouth in thought. There was an edge to his features you had yet seen, one that reminded you of the lost years between the two of you. One that reminded you of the robbery of maturing together you’d been forced to endure.
Still you kept yourself guarded, eyes narrowing in cynicism, “It doesn’t matter.”
Dismissal felt like betrayal on your tongue– to uphold the coldness you’d obliged in the transference into adulthood. A betrayal to who you wanted to be and what you wanted to become. A reminder that you were your mothers child.
“I think it does,” He challenged, arms steady across his chest.
He’d always been this way: A challenger to every notion you’d had instilled. A disruption to the corrective course you’d been placed on since birth. A threat to the sanctity your mother had inculcated your entire life– he was a threat to your predetermined promise, a kindler to the vein of truth your mother had worked hard to suppress. He was wrong– wrong for you and more importantly wrong for your mother.
His presence in this very home was a testament to the state of your mother’s wellbeing. A reminder that she was unwell. A reminder that the vindictive bitch she’d always been had died and been replaced by someone of unsound mind. She’d never have let him in if she’d known– but she was gone in that sense and Harry was here now.
“I’m not staying here,” You paused, “If you were wondering.”
“Okay.”
You placed your mug on the counter, the worry of leaving a ring on the marble a fleeting thought, “Call me if anything changes.”
Your shoulders barely skimmed as you brushed past him.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
The night dragged on endlessly. No combination of edibles or subpar hotel wine could satiate the ebbing ambivalence of your emotions. You cocooned yourself in lush hotel sheets, your mind wandering in between the static states of the present and the past.
Part of you was surprised Harry was still here, still in your hometown. That he’d clung so close to home after all those late nights the two of you had spent daydreaming about the future, about getting away. Reverie had gotten lost along the way, not just for him, but you too. In the quiet of the night fingertips had etched so deeply into the skin of your waist that you’d thought Harry was worried about you disappearing beneath his touch. He’d whispered softly into the shell of your ear quiet murmurs of promise and hope, things that only could be uttered in the sanctuary that your bodies created beneath crisp cotton sheets.
At the memory, you recoiled beneath the cold cotton of the hotel bedding, the ghost of his touch almost there. You weren’t two kids in love anymore. The relationship had ultimately been one soaked in delusion and naivety. But part of you missed the bygone days of puppy love; a series of firsts and ultimately a series of lasts. Nothing had felt as right since you’d left the unwavering authority of your mother and gone off to university. You’d since fooled around and dated. You’d let yourself explore queer identity without censorship or prying eyes. But nothing ever stuck like Harry did– and you hated that admission.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
You visited in short bursts over the following days. Popping in to check in on the state of your mother and speak with her aides. Irene and Susanna were lovely. It was clear in their crystalline eyes and kind smiles that they held no judgement for your detached involvement. They were here for you now, and that, you accepted with what little grace you’d carried in with you.
Irene’s touch was soft on your shoulder as she rounded your chair in the vacant parlour with a fresh mug of tea for you. She spoke with a candor and confidence that felt intransmissible over the phone. Already you knew that time was fleeting, but hearing the truth in digestible and professional terms began to settle the uncertainty you felt about the coming days.
You checked off lines on your mental checklist as the signs of death rolled in. Visiting just enough to get the run down from the aides and to not feel guilty about being absent. You managed to mostly avoid Harry, visiting only in the morning when you knew Irene or Susanna were there.
Despite your boss granting you a leave of absence, you still filled your spare time with work. Maybe it was foolish, dedicating yourself to what was ultimately busy work, but it gave you something to do that was not thinking about what was lost and what you were losing.
It was two nights before her passing that Susanna called you to let you know things were near. With clear skies and an edible clouding your mind you caught the bus across town. It felt good to walk and you couldn’t help but admire the clement skies. Looking up you swore the cloudless night held a promise of clarity, one you couldn’t pass up on. A newfound calmness washed over you, a quietude like the hush the town carried. You’d prepared for this, to say goodbye, and already in a sense you had when you’d left for school.
The red door was illuminated by the golden glow of the porch lamp. The lights were off upstairs but you knew that someone was inside. Your feet didn’t feel so stuck when you stood on the street, admiring the home that raised you. Those roots had been yanked long ago and new ones had taken their place without you even realizing.
There was no need to knock, whoever was there would know you were coming. It felt more natural than the visits before as you stepped in. The house was quiet, but not absolutely so. Soft voices came muffled from where your mother resided. The hush of their tones gentle as you approached the cracked door.
the quiet of the house no longer felt like a warning.
Pushing open the final barrier between you and her, you were greeted by gentle smiles. Susanna was seated in the armchair you’d sat in when you’d first arrived, Harry on the opposite side in a chair from the dining room. Something about the incongruity made you smile. If only your mother knew she’d be dying in a room with mismatched furniture.
“Hi,” Susanna greeted in a hushed tone, “Here, I’ll make you a cuppa,” She quickly excused herself and you assumed her chair.
You looked between your mother’s sedated state and Harry. He sat with his elbows to his knees, hands clasped before him and as you took a deep breath the revelation hit that it wasn’t so scary sitting across from him, albeit still enigmatic.
“How is she?” You asked, already knowing the answer.
His face twisted into something unsure, an amalgamation of everything unsaid and said, “She’s comfortable,” He settled on, the hesitation in his voice a clear indicator that the words didn’t feel right on his tongue.
All you could do was nod in response as you glanced back at your mother. Susanna, you had guessed, had applied some rouge to her wan cheeks, the same pink she’d pressed to her skin every day of your life. Her wavy hair was brushed out, soft curls fluffy and buoyant around her face. The application of her favorite lipstick and blush brought a humanness to the moment, one you’d be eternally grateful for.
“She looks beautiful,” you whispered as you took in her now soft features in the warm light.
The admission hurt, but not in the painful way that brought you back to youth– the painful and ever present sting that seemed extensive and universal throughout your childhood. It hurt to admit that only in the absence of everything you knew to be true about her, that you could finally see her as beautiful. Despite this revelation something else settled. Something so deep and wounded you wouldn’t know how to bandage it if you’d tried.
Tears welled in your eyes blurring your vision into something fragmented and marmoris. With your elbows digging into your thighs you pressed your palms to your eyes, hiding behind the phosphenes of your closed lids. The warmth of a hand pressed to your back, another to your thigh, just above your knee. The touch was too tender, too charged with emotion, too familiar to be Susanna. You let him linger and more importantly you let yourself revel in the comfort he brought.
“Let it out,” He crooned softly from below, “Let it all out.”
And you did– sobs wracked your body, a relentless force that there was no reckoning with. You felt the heat of your tears spill into your open palms, the taste of salt on your tongue as hot rills descended to your lips. You sank further into Harry’s touch as it stayed warm and constant through the layers of your clothes.
Cocooned in the cacophony of your emotions the outside world fell away. Gone was the rasp of your mothers breathing, the tell-tale sign of what was to come. Gone were the worries of unsanctioned discovery. All that existed then was the glow of his touch against your body and his murmurs of solace.
Susanna returned with the tea, a clattering tray that awakened you from your perturbed state. Harry’s eyes were blurred, irises like the lichen covered rocks who’d found home in a creekbed darkened by the flood of a freshet. Pinkness nipped at the highpoints of his face, the rubicund flood of emotion a reminder that you were not alone in this. He looked up at you with a softness you knew you didn’t deserve, as the two of you choked back the tears that threatened to fall.
“You’re okay,” He whispered, “Why don’t we have some tea, okay?”
Nodding, you wiped away the salt that clung to your cheeks.
Looking around the room you were thankful to see that Susanna had left the tray of tea atop the old desk that still sat in the corner. Harry was the first to move, murmuring something along the line of “I’ve got it” as he moved across the room. As he poured your cups you dared to glance back at your mother. She lay just as peaceful as she had before, oblivious to the turmoil she always seemed to bring. For a fleeting moment you wished she’d return to awareness. The pang divided between a search for the familiar: high pitched and full of shame. And the unfamiliar: the draw to comfort you’d not once received.
A warm mug was pressed into your hands, breaking you from your unattainable and melancholic desires. Harry reassumed his seat against the unyielding wood of the dining chair, a mug pressed between his hands.
Taking a deep breath, notes of jasmine and chamomile rising from the steam of your mug, you felt like you were walking into a thunderstorm. The charge in the air was unlike anything you’d faced before. Somehow stickier and more saturated than the turbulent goodbyes of your past. You glanced at Harry, a grounding rod in the uproar.
For a while you allowed yourself to just be. Focusing on the warmth between your palms and the crackle in the air you let the storm roll in. Every heavy, tepid, untouched and unspoken entity of your past and what would soon be your future rolled in with unbridled force
Deep breath in, deep breath out, you embraced the chaos.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
Susanna poked her head into the room, exchanging a look with Harry that you didn’t quite catch but knew meant she was leaving for the night. It felt foolish but something akin to jealousy rose at the unsaid exchange. You envied the notions of their connection, even if it was a self told concept. Time had passed, he had grown and you had no right to his life, his relationships, his choices. Still you couldn’t help but smile, as the brief moment of jealousy gave pause to the turbulence of your own world.
Your tea ran cold between your palms. The ceramic mug became nothing more than a smooth surface for you to focus on. The silence stretched into something sharp and too reminiscent of your youth.
Harry sensed your agitation before you had and he rose with an abruptness you hadn’t expected. But after days of careful footsteps and hushed whispers the action brought a realness you hadn’t realized you’d missed.
His voice came out with a rasp that reminded you all too much of quiet sun soaked mornings, “Let me take you home,” Despite how badly you wanted to mouth back, there was no room for questioning in his tone. It was a declaration, one you were not equipped to fight back on.
Wiping your palms along the top of your trousers you glanced back towards your mother, a silent question of “Will she be okay?” But you already knew the answer.
In a matter of days, everything you’d thought to be true about yourself had whittled down into a fine point you barely recognized. You’d prepared for a degree of upheaval, spent weeks working with your therapist to prepare yourself for the reality that this would be a pivotal moment in your life. But you hadn’t expected Harry to be a part of the equation. You felt like a shell, a hollowed out husk of yourself, as you followed behind Harry into the foyer. There were no guards to send to the parapet you’d kept maintained, and the proximity was pulverizing to what little armor you had left.
Harry’s keys dangled from his hooked pointer finger, jangling and catching the faint glow of amber light that danced from lit sconces. It was hard not to focus on the scintillating refraction as you toed your shoes on. He watched in amusement as you wobbled on one foot, the glint of a smile almost tugging at the corner of his mouth.
For a moment everything hung in suspension, hung between the dichotomy of unprecedented normalcy and habitable turbulence. The normalcy that crept in between the cracks was terrifying. The brief moment was enough to send you spiraling. With your back pressed against the wall you felt torn– torn between what could only be classified as defeat and the admittance that you deserved this. Him.
Harry recognized the look in your eye as you pressed yourself further into the wall, “I’m not going to let you walk,” He said, voice entirely too calm for the conflict you felt bubbling.
Tilting your head back, the column of your throat exposed in a reminiscent arch, you clung to the comfort of what you knew. Resistance was safety– hyper-vigilance the only home you’d known. Past echoes of your own voice swarmed, younger, higher pitched, defeated, “We can’t, we can’t, we can’t,”
“Look at me.”
You tried jerking away, tilting your head at an angle that would make him disappear, but Harry was there, his eyes level with your own. Actinolite, mullein, lichen. You were pinned. His eyes were so calm, so vivid, so certain as he scanned your face.
His hands found your biceps, fingers indenting. Every muscle in your body froze, immobilising you in the pits of contradiction. His touch unleashed a heavy stone, dropping like a weight to the depths of your gut. Weighted, hot, it fell into a snarl of roots bound too tight. His touch scorched like coals. Coiling, unbridled, the flames crept higher, alighting a flush across your cheekbones, your neck, your chest.
On instinct your eyes darted down the hallway to the sliver of light that escaped through the cracked office door. The sight, the reminder of her, it broke you. The scene was all too familiar; Harry’s hands on your body, the foreboding hush of the old house, the ache only he could bring. But now it was like gasoline had been poured over every inch and crevice.
His words floated beneath the current of everything, “Breathe.”
Eyes like slits, your vision snapped to him, the calm of his voice suddenly infuriating. Beneath a blur of tears his features came loose, emulsifying into the abstract of a face. You wanted to scream. To throw your whole body to the ground and let whatever it was that had ravaged the inside of you for so long loose. To put him in the path of your wrath. Not because he deserved it, but because it needed freedom, an outlet, something else to destroy.
It wasn’t fair you’d been the one to endure its hunger.
Steady hands framed your body, bracketing you to the swath of his broad chest as your weight fell. Harry held you, one hand cradling the base of your skull as he pulled you impossibly close, his other hand wide against the swell of your shuttering ribs.
The noises you made were not your own. Too snarled, too broken, too gauche. The beast finally unleashed, open mouthed, brine eyed. Tepid skin slicked with liberation.
Beast or not he held you, unafraid. Your bodies moved like the sea as he rocked you, soft words like wind in your sails as he cooed against the crown of your head.
Eyes shut tight, face pressed into the crook of his neck, the glow of light from your mothers room disappeared. Your senses filled solely with him: the smell of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the steady press of his ribcage to yours with every breath.
The beast quelled as you were refamiliarized with the feeling of your bodies moving in tandem; settling to find a home in the cradle of his arms.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
Too prideful, it would take you a while to admit that he needed to be a part of your reshaping.
Together you’d traverse this new landscape, moving the rubble at the periphery into something new. It would take some dirt beneath your nails but the gaps and crevices between surface roots would fill in with fresh soil, lambs ear and mullein. Golden light would take on new meaning, the shadows nothing more than a shady place to rest. Thunderstorms would become something fared together beneath the safety of crisp cotton sheets.
Together you’d move forward through the hard days that laid ahead. Closure would take time, but you’d get there.
CW: None minus Harry is a bit grumpy in the beginning
Word Count: 3.3K
Trope: Kinda sorta love at first sight if you have bad vision
A/N: I got inspired by the hotel aspect of the Aperture music video so here we are and here you go! I thought this would be a cute little submission for @jarofstyles fic challenge! I hope y'all enjoy ✨
Summary: Harry just wants more pillows and you try your best to get them to him in a timely manner✨
Harry likes to think he’s a reasonable person, he doesn’t get upset when they get his order wrong at his local cafe, he doesn’t even flinch when someone bumps into him on the sidewalks in whatever city he’s visiting, not to mention he only ever really finds himself raising his voice to shout over the music in a club with his friends, but even relatively level headed individuals like Harry do have their limits and his is teetering on the edge of being reached. He lets out a loud sigh as he sits on the edge of his freshly made hotel bed, his hands are folded in his lap while his eyes are glued on the small clock on the nightstand.
As he watches the numbers change he chews on his bottom lip, he starts messing with the ring on his index finger while his mind swirls with possible reasons as to why a simple task such as bringing him two extra pillows is taking so long. When he called down to the front desk he spoke to a lovely woman who assured him it would only be a few minutes until someone from housekeeping would be knocking on his door to deliver his extra plushy pillows, but that was almost an hour ago so with every minute that goes by it’s as if Harry can feel his patience wearing thinner and thinner.
Normally he wouldn’t be this bothered by a few measly pillows but the events of the day have turned his mood a bit sour and when this happens all Harry finds himself wanting to do after a long hot shower is lay in a nice bed and cuddle a pillow close to his chest, having always found the feeling of something soft being tightly tucked up against him oddly comforting but he can’t exactly do that with the bed how it is currently since it only has one pillow. He doesn’t even know how he ended up with only one, having stayed in countless hotels in numerous cities he knows the normal amount is usually two and if he had that many he wouldn’t have had to call down the the front desk and ask for extras and he surely wouldn’t be sitting on the edge of his bed like a little kid who just got scolded for something and sent to their room while waiting for someone to drop them off.
“This is ridiculous.” He huffs as he stands up and turns to look towards the door of his hotel room. “You’re a grown man Harry just go down there and ask for more pillows.” He grumbles to himself as he walks over to the dresser directly across from the bed that the tv is sitting on so he can grab his wallet that has his room key in it. After slipping his wallet into the back pocket of his dark grey slacks he adjusts the jumper he has pulled over a button up dress shirt as he walks over to his door. He takes a few deep calming breaths as his hand wraps around the cold metal of the door knob, not wanting to be in too foul of a mood and end up being rude to whoever he’s about to speak with at the front desk. But just as he’s about to turn the knob and pull the heavy door open he hears a voice coming from the hallway.
“Hi sorry to bother you-did you call down for more pillows?-no? Okay have a good night! So sorry again.” Harry quirks a brow as he leans in closer to the door, the voice is soft and a little too cheery for the time of night as it drifts down the hall and under his door. He hears a muffled noise just before the sound of a door closing, he leans in even closer so his ear is practically pressed against the door letting him hear the sound of footsteps.
“Shit.” He hisses as the sound of two heavy knocks on his door rings in his ears making him fumble backwards as he shakes off the slight buzzing in his ears while trying to regain his balance.
“Housekeeping.” The voice is still soft and cheerful but just amplified so he can hear it through the door, two more knocks have him scrambling for the knob and pilling the door open. “House-oh hello I’m sorry to bother you but did you happen to call down to the front desk and ask for extra pillows?” Harry just stares at you as he stands in the doorway only a bit disheveled with his hair looking as if he’s run his hands through it a few too many times and the collar of his dress shirt that’s poking out of the top of his sweater appears to be a little crooked.
You give him a smile as you lower the two pillows in your arms down just enough so he can get a better view of your face. Harry swallows thickly as his eyes roam over your features, taking in your pretty eyes and warm smile that have him completely forgetting the reason you’ve even knocked on his door. Something about you has managed to catch him completely off guard so he doesn’t even notice it’s been well past the socially acceptable amount of time between you asking him a question and him answering it making you just tilt your head just a smidge and raise an eyebrow at him.
“Are you okay?” Your question has Harry realizing he’s been staring at you for far too long making him clear his throat and run a hand through his hair causing it to become even more unruly looking.
“Uh I-” you give him a reassuring smile as you stare at him, patiently waiting for him to answer your question. For the life of him Harry can't understand why suddenly his mind isn't function properly, not letting him form complete and well articulated sentences resulting in choppy slightly incoherent messes all because you're looking at him. “Yes I’m-I’m fine…those are n-nice.” He stutters as he motions towards the pillow in your arms while his eyes not so subtly drift down towards your chest making you let out a laugh because this isn’t the first time a guest has appreciated the perfectly tailored fit of your housekeeping uniform. “I mean the pill-pillows those look nice I did uhm…need them I only have…one.” He explains as he feels his face get hot, you just nod and once again find yourself waiting on him to say something or at the very least reach out and take the pillows from you.
“I’m Harry.” He blurts out after a few moments of awkward silence, you look down at his hand that he stretches out and can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from deep in your chest and out of your mouth. At the sound of you laughter Harry understands his mistake and quickly drops his hand down to his side, but he can't deny the fact he quite likes the sound of your laughter even if it is directed towards him for doing something embarrassing.
“Lovely to meet you Harry.” You tell him with a comforting smile that lets him know you don't mind the little missteps that have taken place during this brief interaction, his eyes dart over to your name tag and for some reason Harry can't help himself from opening his mouth and saying something that to you seems like something he would say to anyone to seem polite but the reality is it's very unlike him.
"I love your name- s'very pretty." Your smile grows bigger making Harry instantly add to his already uncharacteristic compliment. "It's very fitting that such a pretty girl- I mean uhm woman would have such a pretty name." His eyes stare into yours while you register the words that just tumbled out of his mouth, your cheeks get warm and you have to look away from him before you get too caught up in the greens of his eyes and forget you're still technically on the clock and are here to do your job.
"Thank you that's very kind of you." Harry smiles, pleased with himself that he's managed to get at least one complete sentence out without sounding too ridiculous. "Now did you say something about your bed only having one pillow?" Your voice is laced with a sort of concern that reminds him of when a loved one calls just to check on him and make sure he's okay and well taken care of and this has Harry's heart practically melting at the idea of you being that concerned about his lack of pillows.
"Oh yes I uh well- come in and you can see for yourself." Your eyes go a bit wide as Harry turns around and heads into his room, leaving you no choice but to go against your better judgment and follow him. "I'm not lying or anything I really only have one and that's the whole reason I had to call down for more." Your eyes do a quick once over of your surroundings once you hear the door click shut and you follow him deeper into the small space, your shoulder start to relax and your heart rate begins to go back to normal when all you see if a small duffel bag on the table near the window and his jacket draped over one of the two small chairs that accompany it.
As he stands off to the side of the bed you can't help but let your eyes do a quick inventory of the odd but charming man that occupies room 605. You appreciate the slight view you have of his profile while you stand at the foot of his queen sized bed that does in fact only have one pillow on it, his jawline is impeccable and you like how the darkness of his hair accentuates the green of his eyes and you get a sense by the broadness of his shoulders and the sheer size of him that he has the ability to come off as intimidating or a bit harsh, but as he stands there it's as if he can feel your eyes on him and you catch the way the corners of his mouth twitch as if he's fighting back a smile and that small action has all the hard edges of him softening. Then you take a few moments to really look at his outfit, the softness of his sweater vest gives him a more approachable yet still professional vibe while the fun lip pattered dress shit underneath it tells you he likes to have fun, at least with how he dresses and that makes you smile as you come to the conclusion that there might be more to Harry than what meets the eye. You don't try to hide the fact you just let your eyes roam over his tall frame for a solid two minutes, not seeing any harm in it especially since he did the same to you but with a more hungry look in his eyes, while yours hold a soft sort of curiosity to them.
"I really don't know how this happened." You tell him truly stumped at how anyone on the housekeeping staff would check off on this room being ready for the next guest with only one pillow at the top of the bed. "But don't worry I will go and get you one more so you can have an even four- something about an odd number of pillows just doesn't sit well with me." Harry lets out a small chuckle as you place the two pillows down at the end of his bed.
"Three is fine really I don't-"
"It's not fine. You only had one instead of two and you called to ask for two more meaning you're supposed to have four so just let me go grab one more and I'll be right back now that I know what room you're in." This has Harry rising a brow at you as you grab one of the pillows and walk around to the opposite side of the bed that he's standing at so you can place it next to the sad lonely pillow he already has.
"What do you mean now that you know what room I'm in? I told them my room number when I called." He explains as he walks over and grabs the other pillow so he can place it in the middle of the bed making you give him a small appreciative smile before reaching over and grabbing it so you can place it neatly on top of the one closest to you.
"Oh yeah you spoke to Jane she's new and- she's lovely and wonderful but forgets things so all she could tell me was that someone needed two extra pillows and that they were on either the fifth or sixth floor." Harry feels his face twist up into one of confusion and disbelief because if you didn't even know what floor he was on that means you had to knock on everyone's door before finding his. "That's why it took so long- I normally respond to these types of requests in a very timely manner but there's about twenty rooms on the fifth floor and then I knocked on another ten on this floor before I finally got to yours." Your voice is far too sweet with an almost joking undertone to it for Harry's liking, not finding it very funny that you had to carry around his pillows for an hour just because someone else isn't very good at their job.
"That's- that's unacceptable." You look across the bed at him as his words hit your ears and when your eyes find his you can see the sharp edges of his personality starting to poke through the softness of him that you just saw a few moments ago. "You shouldn't have to knock on twenty plus rooms to find the one you're looking for you should know exactly where you're going- Jane should write things down if her memory is so horrible." You don't miss the slight protective edge his voice takes on as he places a hand on his hip, his eyes soften just enough for you to know he isn't upset at you or even Jane really its just the situation in general he's not thrilled with. "I- I was on my way down to the front desk when you uh knocked on the door." He admits shyly as if he doesn't want you to think he's the type of person to go and complain about things like this because he honestly isn't.
"Really? You waited an hour before deciding to go down there and asking what's taking so long?" Your shocked expression has Harry's worries of you thinking he's some sort of hot headed impatient person fading away. "I would've been calling again after half an hour- you're way more patient than me." You tell him with a laugh and a shake of your head that makes him smile after letting out a quiet sigh of relief. "Now just sit tight and I'll be right back with another pillow okay?" Harry just nods at you before you turn and start walking towards the door.
"O-okay I'll be here waiting for you-or not uhm for you but for you to return with…with the pillow." He mentally scolds himself for sounding so stupid as he follows you to the door, you just let out a laugh as you turn to face him.
"I'll let you in on a little secret okay?" You quirk a brow at Harry who just nods in response making you smile as you raise a hand up and place it on his arm making him wish he wasn't wearing a long sleeve so he could feel the softness of your hand on his bare skin. "I don't mind if it's me you're waiting for and not the pillow." Harry feels his heart start to pound in his chest as his eyes glance down at your hand as it gives his arm a little squeeze.
"I'll be right back." That's the last thing you say before releasing your grip on his arm and turning around so you can pull open his door, he quickly moves to grab it so he can hold it open for you allowing him to see the smile on you have on your face as you walk out of his room. He pokes his head out and watches you walk down the hallway towards the elevators, a sense of almost sadness and longing building up in his chest with each step you take. You turn your head and give him a wave and a grin before disappearing around the corner making him let out a sigh as he steps back into his room and closes the door.
"I think I just fell in love." Harry whispers to himself with a small chuckle as he leans his back against the door. "Thank goodness for missing pillows." He mumbles as he runs a hand over his face that he can't seem to keep a grin off of as he starts to replay the infectious and bubbly sound of your laugh over and over again in his mind.
"Holy shit." You all but squeal as you place a hand over your chest while standing in front of the elevators waiting for the doors to open. "Did I just- there's no way that just happened." You say with a laugh as the elevator dings before the doors slide open, you have a silly little grin on your face as you press the star button that will take you back down to the lobby. When you walk out of the elevator Jane gives you a questioning look as you walk past her station at the front desk towards the back staircase that will lead you to the closet in the housekeeping area where all the extra pillows and blankets are kept.
"You okay? You look a little…out of it." Jane asks making you just shrug as you continue on your way towards the stairs, only pausing at the end of the desk in front of the small candy bowl full of mints so you can grab a few and shove them in the front pocket of your housekeeping dress.
"I think I'm in love with the guy in room 605." You tell her with a dreamy sigh, this has her eyes widening but it's not over what you just casually admitted it's because your words spark something in her mind that she had forgotten up until now.
"Oh he needs extra pillows!" You pause and look at her over your shoulder making her give you a minor look of panic. "He called like- I don't even know how long ago do you mind bringing him some?" You rub your lips together to hold off a laugh at the fact she doesn't even seem to remember sending you on the errand an hour ago, just giving her a nod in response. "Thank you! You're a life saver!"
"No problem- it'll be my pleasure."
"After that feel free to clock out- Stacy is here for the night shift." You just smile and give her a thumbs up before continue on your way to go grab Harry's pillow, a tiny bubble of excitement growing in your tummy with each step that brings you closer and closer to getting to see the man in room 605 with the bright emerald eyes and a smile that makes your heart flutter.
Summary: "and then his hand was finding your waist, pulling you gently into the pocket of space beside him, away from the crowd, tucking you both into the shadows like a secret, like being close wasn’t enough, like he already needed more of you."
A/N: Even though I'm bummed as fuck, I planned on posting this today. For those who need a little pick-me-up. This is for the @jarofstyles Fic Challenge. All the new promo was super inspiring, and I kind of veered off course from the original prompts... sorry!!
Word Count: 8.2K
Warning: Drug Use. Dance Floor Smut, Bi-Fem!Reader.
You hadn’t known him, the stranger from across the tent. In theory, you were only two aimless souls in a sea of people living two different lives, who probably would have never met in the real world. But as your bodies came alive with the electric pulse of the beat pounding through the space, you felt it, the rhythm thrumming like a never-ending heartbeat, pulsing from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, and you knew this night was different. Because in that moment, all you were was heat and air, and the breath that left your body, as the fevered euphoria of those surrounding you, danced through your limbs and raced through your discoed hearts, like the beat was never going to die—and when the two of you finally locked eyes, it hit you like a breeze of sound brushing over your damp skin, and your heart swelled with a new determination, as a thrilling chill tingled up your spine, forging the tether that would be drawing you to him before the end of the night
Your only goal tonight was to dance, to be somewhere outside your normal existence, and thrive with the current of life surrounding you—the people, the music. You wanted to lose yourself, mind, body, and soul—and that was what you had done. All night, you had moved from tent to tent, as the hours of the night drifted with the songs racing through your veins. You hadn’t gone alone, but somehow, you lost your friends along the way, and when your phone died, you gave up searching, because you didn’t want to suck the fun from the night when you rarely had this kind of chance to let loose and be present like this.
After drifting from tent to tent on a whim, you told yourself this would be the last spot, then you would figure out how to get home, or at least try to find a charger. Earlier, when you found yourself alone, you made friends with a girl named Sam, who was vibing the same way you were, and as you hit it off, you decided to journey through the night together. At some point, she mentioned that her brother was working a VIP tent, and that she could get you in, saying, “I owe you, girl, tonight would have been shit without someone like you to make it fun.” And you laughed, wondering how something like this could not be fun, but then you guessed, based on the way she navigated you guys from space to space—easily setting the mood like a perfectly curated playlist—that she must have done this thing all the time.
The minute you stepped into the tent, you knew it was a different playing ground, the quality of life much different from your own, the kind of people that payed for a good time, yet Sam fit right in, and as she pooled you along you just took it in, not quite ready to dip your feet into the sound experience just yet. That was when you first saw him, not thinking anything of it, just an attractive guy entering and leading a group of his friends into a tent, nothing major, but he stood out, and that was what you noticed right away. As you watched, unable to take your eyes off him, he must have sensed you looking, because he caught your gaze just as he put on a pair of sunglasses, and for a moment he held your stare.
When he finally looked away, you stood there observing his movements, his casual demeanor, like nothing about this was a big deal, yet you could tell it was, you could tell by all the influencers you kept spotting, some even talking at their cameras, even the random celebrities told you that this was the spot to be. Then your eyes almost lost him as he and his group made their way to a small corner of the tent, tucking themselves away, but you didn’t think anymore of it. “Here, take this,” Sam said, dropping a tiny pill into your hand, then shoved a bottle in the other.
“Don’t worry, I tested everything…I saved it for exactly this, because this DJ is the best one we’ll see tonight. Do you see all these rich idiots? They’ve paid thousands of dollars to be drugged out of their minds on whatever tickles their fancy, but tonight, dude…tonight we’re going to live like we’re one of them...and this Molly is just the trick.” And as you stared into her big brown eyes, something about the way she was looking at you made you want to do anything and everything that came out of her mouth just to match the energy she was giving.
Then your gaze dropped to the pill, already sticking to your sweaty palm, and she said, “Listen, this is my brother…” When you looked up, a guy with eyes similar to Sam’s was standing across from you, giving an assuring smile as if he were completely at home in this situation. “This is Josh, okay, take a picture of his face…If we get separated, you can trust him, I promise…” she told you, popping her own tiny pill into her mouth, and you watched as she chased it down with water.
And for some reason, without another thought, you did the same, so that you could free up your hand to grab your phone, and as the pill hit your tongue, the salt from your palm flashed across your taste buds, followed by the acrid taste of sulfer, and your water was opened in seconds, just to get the foul taste out of your mouth. It had been years since you rolled last, not since college, you weren’t necessarily a chicken, it just wasn’t normally your first choice, and it’s not like it was ever offered in the settings you found yourself in these days, so you thought, why the hell not, you could live, you could take chances.
“Smile, Josh!” you told,” Your heart pounding from the surge of adrenaline your simple choice brought you, yet you knew it was a risk, and you could feel it surging to the tips of your fingers as you took the picture.
Josh’s grin widened as he looked into the lens of your phone, and you snapped the picture, then you shoved the phone into your pocket, thinking something told you this wasn’t his first time playing guardian to his sister’s newfound friends. “Have fun, ladies,” he said, already melting back into the shadows of bodies behind him, and before you could process anything else, Sam’s fingers were lacing through yours, her grip firm and sure as she pulled you toward the pulsing heart of the tent.
“Come on,” she laughed, and there was something magnetic about the way she moved; you had felt it all night, her alluring gaze, her captivating smile, reeling you in like she was already riding the wave you were about to catch, “Let’s get lost in this.”
The energy was already there as the crowd swallowed you whole, heated bodies pressed close in the humid darkness, and for a moment, you felt that knowing glint of uncertainty, because of course, you didn’t know these people, hadn’t been this embedded in a world of circling drugs and VIP anything, or been this close to a drug dealer, who just happened to be your new friends brother, who was casually dealing to the wealthy with a wink and a smile. But then Sam spun to face you, her soft hands finding your waist, and gosh, her eyes were so bright and inviting, making your chest tight with the anticipation of what this night could bring.
“Hey,” she said, her mouth moving closer to your face, her breath on your cheek, “Try and loosen up, okay? We were having so much fun earlier... don’t think about anything else. Just let it all happen.”
And she was right, you guys had been having fun all night, almost instantaneously, the two of you sharing this undeniable chemistry, the way she had been so attentive to you all night, this complete stranger, like you guys had been friends your whole life. And now, maybe it was the way she said it, or maybe it was already the beginning of whatever was in that pill, but suddenly the fear was dissolving like sugar on your tongue, sweet like her smile, warm like her touch, turning into something headier. Then the bass line dropped, and you felt it thrum through your bones, and when Sam started moving, she pulled you closer, your hips meeting hers, and you moved with her, just like before, as your bodies found the rhythm. When your eyes met hers, you shared a knowing smile, something familiar, something you didn’t know you were craving.
Then that was all there was: just the breath filling your lungs and the blinking flash of the strobing lights overhead, smearing everything in hints of neon pink and electric blue—your mind solely focused on one thing, just the girl before you, watching as the light illuminated the gorgeous features of Sam in a fractured, brilliant hue—every detail—the sheen of sweat glowing across her collarbone, the way her long brown hair stuck to her neck, and every so often she would gather and lift it, allowing what little air was circulating to graze her damp neck. Then you would watch as it fell, in awe as the long strands hit her shoulders—and god, she was like magic, easily the most beautiful person there—it was everything—her touch, her focus, how her hands seemed to know exactly where to connect, making you forget everything except this moment.
And maybe this was the moment you truly let go, because you weren’t sure when the dancing had become something else, when the space between your bodies disappeared entirely, when her thigh slipped between yours, and your fingers tangled in her hair.
All at once, she was air and life, and everything that you needed, because around you, even as other bodies pressed closer, all the random hands brushing against your arms, your back, Sam seemed to be the one who anchored you—Sam, whose soft lips were suddenly so close to yours, so close you could taste the sweetness of her breath. She was like the drink of water you needed, because suddenly you were so thirsty, so fucking thirsty, and your only thought was maybe a kiss could be the only thing that could quench your thirst. She was tantalizing, the softness of her curves luring you closer and closer, as the crowd moved as one organism, swaying and pulsing to the beat, and you were part of it now, melting into the mass of heat, sound, and touch, as everything began to feel different—everything liquefying under your fingertips, like skimming your fingers over the surface of water, colors and sounds bleeding brighter at the edges of your vision, as every brush of skin against skin sent sparks down your spine and vibrated through your entire body, slowly awakening each tiny cell one bye one with each breath that you forced in.
Then Sam’s hands were on your face, your eyes drinking her in as your mouth went completely dry. Her thumbs were tracing your jaw, each touch making the skin come alive in it’s wake, as you felt the pulsing hum building between you, her thigh lifting between your legs, flush to the cotton panties under your short dress, as your clit pulsed with a racing need, your whole body canting toward her, pulling at that inevitable pull that had been there all night—and as her mouth inched toward yours, your heartbeat raced through your body, making your lips and face numb, your eyes blooming wider, as your vision narrowed to just her—and you thought, how crazy it was that fear even exsisted, how quickly it could dissapate when the heart knew what it wanted. Because you wanted this; wanted to feel the supple softness of her lips pressed to yours, as your grip on her hips tightened, afraid that if you let go, she might disappear.
In that aching breath of need, time seemed to drip like honey down your spine, each second becoming minutes of sweet desire, as you felt the chemical warmth ripple and spread like tiny waves through your veins, making every sensitive sensation sharper and deeper, more intense, and just as her lips were brushing yours, just on the sweet edge of a kiss—your legs clamping around her thigh tighter—a voice cut through the moment like a knife, and suddenly there was a guy beside you, his energy too eager, his pupils blown. “Hey—sorry to cut in, ladies—but you guys look like you’re having a good time—do you know where my friends and I can score some dust?”
Then he gestured back toward the corner of the tent, and your eyes followed automatically, past the writhing bodies and the fog machine haze, to where a small group stood apart from the crowd. And there he was—the stranger from earlier, sunglasses still on despite the darkness, and there was something about his posture that made him seem both part of and separate from everything happening around him, a mystery that loomed around the glow of his body as the light hit his face, and then he smiled, and you couldn’t force your eyes away, it was like his stare was a thread taking root, and you wanted to be closer, just to know, just to hear the sound of his voice.
When he nodded back at you, your breath caught in your chest, and without thinking, you leaned into Sam, your lips brushing her ear as your hands found her arm, grazing over the soft skin that felt like velvet, as your fingers slowly worked their way to her hand, and laced through them. “I saw that guy earlier,” you whispered, your words coming out breathless, now honeyed with a new want you didn’t quite understand. “I think I want to dance with him.”
The molly was hitting, you could tell by the weight of the words rolling off your tongue, lapping like waves of euphoria, making your skin feel like it was made of stardust glittering under the lights flashing above you, as your eyes slowly left his, and when Sam turned to look at you, her pupils were wider, as a giddy laugh bubbled up from her throat, and you both started giggling, the laughter taking over, the feeling so powerful you couldn’t stop as you felt it burst bright behind your eyes—everything was suddenly hilarious and perfect, and beautiful, the feeling almost too much, but in the best way.
“Oh my god,” Sam breathed, her hands still on you, still holding you close even as she turned back to the guy who was waiting, and you buried your face into her neck, feeling playful, feeling shy. “Take my friend with you. Then meet me by the DJ booth.” She blurted, her voice sticky-sweet with her own high, as her words ran together. “I know where to find some.”
Your face ripped from her neck in a dizzying haze, as you watched the guy’s face light up. Then Sam was pressing a kiss to your cheek, whispering, “Go have fun, baby, get what you want,” before she was slipping away into the crowd, probably heading back to find Josh, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering and your skin on fire, the stranger’s friend already reaching for your hand.
And as you took it, you felt like you were entering a different world, one where the ledge of freedom was boundless, where danger didn’t exist—where the temptations of your desires were slowly unfolding before you.
His friend’s hand was warm in yours, his grip loose but guiding, as he pulled you through the crowd like you were made of water—your body flowing effortlessly between the swaying mass of people, making each brush of skin against your bare arms send little ripples of sensation cascading down your spine. All you could see was the flashing lights and the stranger’s destination ahead, like the sea of bodies were parting just for you, as the glinting rays of violet and gold lingered in your vision, seeping into trails of light that glimmered at the limits of your eyesight, making your body pulse. And then you were there, crossing the lucid threshold into the corner of the tent where the stranger and his friends had carved out their own little world, and when you finally stood before him, everything else seemed to fall away.
He was already looking at you, like he had been waiting, like he had known you were coming all along. Up close, he was even more striking than you had thought—tall and lean, his body loose and relaxed in a way that made you want to melt into him, and when he smiled, dimples dipping, it was slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. Then he was taking off his sunglasses, revealing the true nature of his eyes, and god, they were green—the kind of green that made you think of jumping into deep water on a sunny afternoon in the heart of summer—and the way they were looking at you now, had your stomach flipping with the waves running through you, making your heart beat with the rhythm of his energy—an energy that you could feel yourself ready to consume.
“I’m Harry,” he said, leaning into your ear, his voice low and warm, cutting through the pounding bass like it was nothing, like his voice was already part of a song you were listening to, and then he leaned in even closer, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin near your ear sending chills up your arms, as you caught the clean scent of mint, and something earthy under the sweat and the smoke that clung to everyone around you—and then his hand was finding your waist, pulling you gently into the pocket of space beside him, away from the crowd, tucking you both into the shadows like a secret, like being close wasn’t enough, like he already needed more of you. Because maybe it was the drugs, or you were just horney, but even the slightest touch had your body vibrating, like an instrument he was tuning, playing each note, making your body sing out, desperate for more, for anything and everything, all at the same time.
And when he said “I noticed you,” his lips brushed your ear as his warm breath ghosted over your skin, making every tiny hair stand on end. You shivered, the racing sensation shooting up the back of your neck, and burst with the pulsing lights overhead, making you gasp and cling to his arm, as a wave of sound swelled through your body, then crashed low in your belly and spread outward like a slow fire. “When I first came in. You were standing by the DJ Booth—you looked like you were ready to have fun. I think I saw you take something…”
You turned your head to look at him, and the movement felt slow, like the thick liquid of syrup, like time itself was stretching and bending around you, and when your eyes met his, you felt that tether again—that invisible thread that had been there from the moment you saw his from across the tent—pulling taut between you, anchoring you to this stranger whose name you now knew but nothing else.
“Yeah…it must have been after I lost track of you,” you told him, and your voice came out different than you expected, softer, breathier, glazed with whatever was rolling through your bloodstream, making everything feel more, feel deeper, feel like it mattered in a way that nothing had ever mattered before. “I noticed you too...I was curious…”
His smile widened, and there was something knowing in it, something that made you feel like he could see right through you, like he understood exactly what was happening inside your body, the way the chemicals were cresting and falling like waves against a never-ending shore—and you watched as he tilted his head, those green eyes gazing at you with a magnetic focus that was stealing all your consentration, so intense it made your breath catch, and then he leaned in again, his hand tightening on your waist just enough to draw you closer.
“May I ask what you took?” he questioned, and there was no judgment in it, just curiosity, just a genuine desire to know.
“Molly,” you breathed, and suddenly saying it out loud made it feel more tangible somehow, more aware of the way your heartbeat was thrumming through every inch of your body, or the way your skin felt like it was humming with static—teeny, tiny little electric beats, dancing and swaying with every touch and sound even as you were completely still. “My friend, Sam, gave it to me. Her brother—”
“Oh, yeah—Josh.” Harry said, completing your sentence, nodding as if he understood, “Sam is usually with him, but never with a friend, not like this…” He said, pulling back as his eyes roamed down the length of your body, like his intentions were being set, like this was all perfectly normal, and maybe it was, in this world, in this tent packed full of rich humans doing lavish, careless things. “He’s a good guy. We all know him. You’re in good hands.”
Then he reached behind him, his body shifting, and when his hand came back, he was holding a metal bottle, and he held it out to you like an offering. “Here. You should drink some water…stay hydrated.”
You looked at the bottle, then back at him, and something playful blinked through you, cutting through the haze of want and warmth just enough for you to raise an eyebrow. “I know better than to take drinks from strangers,” you teased, as a flirtatious streak inched through you in a way you hadn’t quite intended but didn’t regret.
Harry laughed, and the sound of it did something to your brain, made your chest feel tight and giddy, made you want to hear it again and again until you had memorized every note. “Smart girl,” he told you, and then he was bringing the bottle to his own lips, tipping it back, and you watched—spellbound, and fucking hypnotized—as the water slipped into his mouth, as the long column of his throat worked with each swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that made your mouth go completely dry. Then a single drop escaped the corner of his lips, trailing down his chin, catching the light right before he swiped it away with the pad of his thumb, and slowly dragged it across the swell of his bottom lip—and you felt your thighs press together involuntarily, felt that aching throb between your legs begin to quake.
When he lowered the bottle, his heated gaze found yours, his stare bringing something darker, more intentional, and you licked your lips without thinking, suddenly so thirsty, but not just for water—for something else, something more—your mind already reeling over how quickly the heart’s desire could shift, could want something new, something overwhelmingly different, in the span of a single breath.
“Your turn,” he rasped, his voice rough, and he pressed the bottle into your hand.
Without hesitation, you took it, feeling the cool metal surge through your palm, and slowly—still skeptical—you brought it to your mouth, never taking your eyes off him. When the water hit your tongue and slid cold and crisp down your throat, it was incredible, like the best thing you’d ever tasted, so damn good that you actually moaned, the sound escaping before you could stop it. The sensation broke through you like a dam opening—the cold rushing and spreading through your chest and meeting the heat in the boom of your belly, creating something electric, something that flashed and fizzled along every nerve ending until your toes were curling inside your shoes and your eyes fluttered half-closed from the pure relief of it.
Suddenly, the water was sacred, and reviving, and you drank deeper, not caring anymore how it looked, or when the water overflowed past your lips and spilled down your chin, trailing cold paths down your neck, and pooled in the hollow of your throat before continuing down, like a river, slipping between your breasts and into the cleavage of your dress, and soaking into the fabric, but it felt so good—the cool only amplifying the vivid waves coursing through you. You would have poured the entire bottle over you if you hadn’t felt like you needed it more. In that moment, you had no shame, you didn’t care because you could see the way Harry was watching you, the way his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, the way his eyes tracked every drop of water as it made its journey down your body, and you knew—Because you could tell by the way he was looking at you—that he liked what he saw.
When you finally lowered the bottle, gasping, your chest heaving, Harry took a step closer again, eliminating what little space had crept between you. His hand came up to your face, and for a second, you thought he was going to touch you, and then thought you might actually combust if he did, but instead, he just brushed his thumb across the corner of your mouth, catching the last lingering drop of water there.
“Better?” he questioned, but you could only nod, your voice lost somewhere in the rush of your own heartbeat.
Then his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you in, and you went willingly, your body moving like it had been waiting for exactly this, like every step you had taken tonight had been leading you here, to this corner, to this stranger named Harry who was looking at you like you were the only person at the entire festival, and now all you could feel was the heat radiating from his body, could feel the solid warmth of his chest against yours, and when he started to move, guiding you with him, his motion was slow, matching the rhythm of the bass still pounding through the tent, and strangely enough, despite all your fear and shyness, it felt like the most natural thing in the world—for his strong hands to be holding you against him, while swaying in time with the breath leaving your body, as your bodies began to find the same pace—the gesture was entrancing, intimate, as your body sang out, moving in sync with his.
As your connection grew, time became this mystifying concept that stretched and veered like elastic, as fluid as the movement of each sounding beat, pulsing through the space, expanding and contracting like lungs taking in air, flowing in and out in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. Yet, there you were, you and Harry somehow existing in your own realm, your own private world etched out from the chaos around you, as the dancing became talking, became touching, became something that had no name, just a feeling. His hands moved across your hips, then your waist, then traced up your sides in a way that only made you want more—and when the words stopped, all that told you of the man pressed against you was the way he moved—the way your bodies fit like matching pieces, melding together into the shape of one being, forging a familiar connection, the kind you only ever felt after sex—Because who was this mysterious man who seemed both completely at ease and somehow watchful, like he was used to being looked at but not used to being seen, yet he let you watch him, didn’t shy away, and that only made you more intrigued.
And all the while, the waves kept coming—rolling through you in peaks and valleys, each one making your skin feel more alive, more sensitive, more desperate for contact. Every brush of Harry’s fingers was like a tiny explosion of pleasure, sparks cascading down through your body, making you gasp and lean into him, and you could tell by the way his breath would catch, by the way his pupils would blow wider in the darkness, that he felt it too—that maybe he was on something similar, or maybe you were just that intoxicating to each other.
“There you are!” a familiar voice shouted, cutting through the captivating haze of Harry’s presence. Reluctantly, you turned, and the movement felt like swimming through honey, to find Sam emerging beside you. Your eyes scanned over her, reacquainting with the features that had stolen you so entirely earlier—her flushed cheeks, her glowing beauty, that wide and wild smile that had drawn you in from the start. She was holding something in her hand, her fingers curled around it protectively, and when she looked between you and Harry, her grin turned knowing.
“I see you’ve been making friends,” she said, and then she was pressing close to you, her body fitting against your other side, and god, the sensation of being sandwiched between them—between the soft curves of Sam and Harry’s strong stature—made your head spin in a frantic frenzy to hold onto every feeling buzzing through you.
“I brought you something,” Sam continued, and when she opened her hand, there were three tiny pills nestled in her palm, catching the fractured light of the changing strobes above. “Round two. For the best part of the night...” She told you, leaning closer, then pressed a kiss to your cheek.
You looked at her, then at Harry, who was already plucking one of the pills from her palm with a casual ease that said he had done this before, probably many times, that this was just another night in a life that seemed as foreign, and beyond any concept in your mind, like wishing on a distant star, hoping that the wish would come true. He raised an eyebrow at you, a silent question, and something in you, maybe some last lingering thread of caution, whispered that this was probably too much, maybe even too fast, or even the exact kind of thing you would regret in the morning—
But then Sam was pressing the tiny pill into your hand, and her fingers lingered against your palm, and god, all you could think was how beautiful she was, as she looked at you with those big brown beautiful eyes, and Harry, dammit, he was looking at you too, and the music was pounding and the lights were flashing, and fuck, weren’t you already so far from the person you had been at the beginning of the night? And in that split second, the distance from you now, and that person then felt unbridgeable—you were already here, you were already doing this, and now you were going to see it through.
“Together,” Sam yelled, holding up her own pill, and Harry did the same, and all of the sudden, it felt like a ritual, felt like a pact, felt like you were sealing something between the three of you that couldn’t be taken back, a contract that would be set for the rest of the night.
And so you raised your pill, brought it to your lips, and when all three of you swallowed at the same time, you felt something shift in the air around you, felt the charge in the power of choice, an electricity rising with the knowing—the thrill gesturing a promise of what was to come.
The next wave hit harder than the first, building and building until you felt like you might burst at the fucking seams with it, like whatever you had felt before was happening ten times over—you had no control, you were letting it take you, your body moving to the beat as you danced. Before long, Sam’s hands were finding your body again, the two of you picking up where you had left off, your attraction peaking as she pulled you into her. Her hands moved to your face, and then her mouth met yours again, but this time with no reservation. The kiss was soft, slow, as her lips melded to yours, as if the wave rolling up her spine was in sync with your very own, and as it crested, you felt the hunger set in.
Because then her tongue was sliding across your lips, asking for permission, until you opened for her, letting her in, as every ounce of her energy poured into you, and your tongue basked in the sweetness of her mint-stained breath, letting it all rush to your head. All you could think was how perfect, how fucking good it was, as you moaned into her mouth, your desperate hands already seeking her waist, her hips, the curve of her ass through her thin dress, and you gripped, pressing her closer, and her thigh slid between yours just like before—just like those moments before everything spiraled into something else.
The energy was still shifting, settling into whatever silent pact the three of you had formed, because as you were getting lost in Sam your body was still aware of the heat at your back—the feeling unwavering and sure, as you felt Harry’s chest press into you harder, felt his heated breath on your shoulder, as his hands found your hips from behind—and there you were caught between them now, poised between Sam’s softness and Harry’s strength, as your body became a vessel for sensation, for pleasure, for every overwhelming feeling that was crashing through you like a fury of power you never knew existed.
Harry wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted, as his lips brushed your shoulder, your neck, leaving tingling trails of vibrations in their wake. His hands were searching, moving down your body in a slowed frenzy, taking his time until he slid his large hand down between you and Sam’s bodies, and you gasped into Sam’s mouth as his fingers found the space where your hips met Sam’s thigh, and when he pressed, when they both pressed, you choked on your moan, your whole body jolting with a pleasure so overwhelming and sweet it edged on an aching pain to be ruined. Yet, there was Sam, swallowing every sound, each one only making the kiss deeper, as her hand came up to tangle in your hair, and you felt Harry’s other hand slip around to your stomach, pressing you back against him, letting you feel the heat of him, the hard, bulging want of him against the curve of your ass, and you pressed into it.
You were lost, completely, and utterly lost in a universe they were creating, each body connecting and moving until you had no clue where you ended and they began, as your mind losttrack of everything except the rhythm of your three bodies moving together, finding a pace that was entirely your own in a tent full of strangers—Sam’s mouth, Harry’s hands, the throb between your legs that was mounting and climbing with every brush of flesh, every whispered word, every roll of hips. At some point, your bodies had shifted, and you realized the bare thigh between your legs was Harry’s, and now, it was pressed against you, pressed against the thin wet fabric of your panties, and without thought you were grinding against it without shame, chasing the friction, chasing the relief that was building like a scream budding at the back of your throat.
Your mind kept moving through pockets of reality, moving as fast as the bass pounding through you. As the second pill hit its peak, Sam and Harry’s faces became a blur—who was kissing who, whose mouth was on yours now, whose hands were where, you didn’t know. It was euphoria and madness competing, and you found yourself struggling to keep your eyes open through all the pleasure, through all the moments when your body felt like it would explode from another touch, but then a kiss was breaking, and someone’s mouth was leaving yours, and when you forced your eyes open at a moment of control, it was Sam again, and you both stood there panting, and she pushed her forehead to yours, her eyes glassy and unfocused, her smile so beautiful it made your chest ache. “God, Girl…” she breathed, “you’re so pretty like this. So fucking pretty.”
And then Harry was there, his mouth at your ear, his voice a low rasp that rippled through your entire body. “She’s right,” he said, and his hand was moving now, sliding down from your stomach, down over the front of your dress again, down to where you needed him most. “You’re fucking stunning.”
His hand began to move, and suddenly, you didn’t know who to turn to, who to kiss, who to cling to—you wanted them both, wanted everything they were giving you, wanted to drown in the sensation of being wanted by two people at once, of having your cup overflow with attention and desire and the touch of hands that were needy for you. And they seemed to understand, seemed to read you flawlessly, because they kept moving with you, kept touching you, kept making you feel like you were the center of the galaxy opening up between the three of you.
As you shifted again, Harry guided you backward slowly, his hands gentle on your waist until you felt the cool press of the tent wall against your back, tucking you into the darkest corner of their little section, hidden from view by shadows and bodies and the sheer mess of the crowd beyond. Sam followed, her body now pressed against your front again, as Harry moved behind you, letting his weight rest against the tent wall, sandwiching you once more. It was; something about this change felt safe and dominating at the same time, as the heat of their bodies burned through you.
Sam kissed you again, taking each movement slower this time, more intentional in the way she moved. Then Harry’s hand slid down to cup you through your dress, his palm pressing against your throbbing core, and you whimpered into Sam’s mouth, your hips rolling into his touch without conscious thought, as his fingers began to move in slow circles, elevating the pressure, slowly rising and swelling, and you were already so close, had been close for what felt like hours, and everything was heightened, every sensation amplified a thousandfold until you couldn’t tell if you were coming, or if you had been coming this whole time, but still you wanted more.
And this time, when Sam pulled back from the kiss, her lips trailed down your jaw, down your neck, sucking at the pulse point gently, and you let your head fall back against Harry, let your eyes flutter open just enough to see Harry’s face above you, his green eyes dark with want, his lips parted, his breath coming faster now. And when he leaned in to kiss you, it was nothing like kissing Sam—it was harder, hungrier, his tongue demanding entrance, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a way that made you cry out against his mouth. His fingers kept moving, kept pressing, kept circling that spot that was driving you insane, and you were climbing, surging toward something you could barely comprehend.
Sam’s mouth was drifting, pressed to your collarbone now, her tongue tracing the line of it, and you felt her hand slide down to cover Harry’s, felt her guide his fingers more firmly against you, and the combined pressure made your knees buckle, made you grateful for the sturdy hold of Harry’s body and the way their bodies were holding you up.
“I want to watch him make you come,” Sam whispered, lifting her mouth to your ear, and fuck, her words were like striking a match, like pouring gasoline over fire, and you had to reach down, had to grab Harry’s wrist and still his hand, because you were right there, right on the edge, and you weren’t sure you could survive going over just yet.
“I’m going to go dance with his friend,” Sam continued, pulling back to look at you, her eyes encouraging and mischievous at the same time. “But I’ll be watching…”
You nodded, at a loss for words, and your body trembled with the effort of holding back, of not letting go right there with both of them still pressed against you. Sam smiled that smile—that sexy, knowing smile that had reeled you in from the very beginning—and pressed one last kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, lingering just long enough to have you wanting.
Then her gaze flicked to Harry, and something passed between them, some wordless communication that you were too far gone to interpret. “Have fun,” Sam said, and then her gaze swept back to you, and her smile widened, and she was slipping away, just like that, melting into the crowd as if she had never been there at all, leaving you alone with Harry.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Harry’s hand was still between your legs, motionless and waiting, his body rigid with the tension of holding back, his restraint barely steady, like he was holding himself accountable by sheer force of will. And you realized, in that moment, that you needed to tell him—needed him to know—because suddenly the wanting was too much, was consuming you from the inside out, because if he didn’t touch you, you might die.
“I want you,” you said, turning to face him, your voice wrecked, but you knew he heard it, knew by the way his eyes flashed in the darkness. “Don’t stop, okay? Whatever you do, just please don’t stop.”
He nodded, and without pause, he was moving, switching your positions, until your back was flush against the wall, and he forced his body against you, solid and heavy, the perfect weight and pressure. His thigh moved between your legs again, and you could feel the hard length of him against your hip, could feel how much he wanted you, and the idea of his dick made you dizzy with power and need.
“I won’t stop, this is your warning,” he forced, his voice rough, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Let go for me…I’ve got you, okay…”
And then his hands were at the hem of your dress, sliding underneath, his fingers finding the waistband of your soaked panties, the material rendered useless and ruined, evidence of everything you had been feeling all night. He hooked his fingers into the fabric and pulled, slowly, dragging them down your thighs as your body shivered with the anticipation, as his steady hands moved past your knees, until you were stepping out of them, and you watched, breathless, as he balled them up in his fist and shoved them into his pocket as if they belonged to him now.
“For later,” he said, and the promise in those words made your clit throb so hard you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning out.
Then he was pushing his thigh up to your bare pussy, and when you looked down you notice the hint of a tattoo, peeking from where the hem of your dress had bunched, and holy fuck, this guy was so hot, you thought, as his skin heated seeped into your slick folds—and as his hands grasped hold of your hips, gripping hard enough to gain control, his eyes bore into yours with a hunger that made you feel like you were never going to be the same again.
“Take what you want…what you need, love,” he said. “Use me.”
And so you did…
Because then you were rolling your hips, letting the slick of your pussy coat the damp skin pressing into you, as you ground against the hard muscle of his thigh. The friction was glorious, was everything, was the answer to every question your body had been asking all night. As you grabbed hold of his shoulders, you noticed Harry was watching you, and you took inventory, taking in the hard line of his tight jaw, his ragged breath, the way his hands were guiding, but not controlling, letting you set the pace, letting you chase your own pleasure while he held you steady.
You knew it wouldn’t take long; you could already feel it building the second he stole your panties—that wave, that fucking crest that felt boundless. Your body was climbing higher and higher, as you rocked and ground your hips against him, bearing your weight into his strong thigh, as your fingers dug into his shoulders, your head falling back against the wall as the pleasure spiraled tighter and tighter, puddling into liquid molten, your pussy making a mess of him.
“That’s it,” Harry groaned, his voice straining, as his thigh flexed beneath you. “Fuck, Love, you’re so wet—I can feel you—you’re close, aren’t you?”
But, you couldn’t answer, could only whimper, could only nod, could only keep moving, keep chasing, keep reaching for that edge that was so close now you could taste it, could feel it aching through your gritted teeth as you forced back your moan, holding your breath because you knew this was it—that you were going to take it, your hips gliding with such ease against his soaked skin, and just as you were about to tell him, felt the words about to burst from the back of your throat—he pulled his thigh away without warning.
And fuck, the sudden loss of pressure made you cry out, made your eyes fly open, made you reach for him with desperate hands as you found your footing—but he was already there, already catching you, already sliding his hand between your thighs to replace what he had taken from you. His fingers slid to your entrance with ease, your pussy so slick and ready that he groaned at the contact, and when he pushed two long fingers inside you, you nearly shouted his name, as the stretch and the fullness sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating out through your entire body.
“I’ve got you,” he said again, and then he was moving, his fingers curling inside you, working you, inching toward that spot that made stars bloom behind your eyes, as his thumb pressed into your pulsing clit, and you moaned into his shoulder, your whole body screaming with pleasure as you rolled your hips to meet his hand, and you lifted your leg to wrap around his hip, to pull him closer, to drive his fingers deeper.
You were there, you were right at that edge, peaking with every thrust of his fingers—it wouldn’t take long, not with everything that had been building all night, not with the drugs still singing through your veins, not with the way Harry was touching you, knowing exactly what you needed, like he was in your mind controlling every movement, anticipating every need that was rising, as the pleasure crested and broke, and you came with a cry muffled against his neck, your tongue dragging across the salt-slick flesh of his throat, tasting him, claiming him, as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through you, each one more intense than the last, until you were shaking, your whole body trembling, barely able to stand.
Harry held you through it, his fingers still moving gently inside you, drawing out every last ripple of pleasure until you were gasping, your oversensitive pussy shuttering, as you pushed weakly at his wrist—and it was only then that he pulled his hand away, and you watched, dazed, your mind a blissed-out chasm of need collapsing in on itself, as he brought his glistening fingers to his lips and licked them clean, making you swallow hard as your mouth went dry.
“Mmmm,” he breathed, his pupils blown wide. “I knew you would taste good.”
And holy shit, you were a goner, and your body went limp in his arms, growing weightless as you sagged against him, every limb liquid and loose, and for a long moment, you just breathed together, his heart pounding against your chest, yours pounding against his. And then, slowly, your hand drifted down between your bodies, as your fingers fumbled and grazed over the thick bulge straining against the front of his shorts, and you palmed him through the fabric, feeling him twitch beneath your touch.
But before you could do more, his hand caught your wrist, halting any further actions.
“Not here,” he forced, trying to gain his composure, but you could tell he was desperate, and there was something in the way that he was looking at you that made you want to fall to your knees right then and there. “Come back to mine with me.”
It was a suggestion yes, but more a plea, and as you looked up at him, at his flushed face and swollen lips, his eyes were still burning with want, and you knew—you just knew—that if you went with him, this night would become something else entirely, something that would mark you, change you, leave indents on your soul that would never fully fade.
“Not without my friend,” you told him, because even now, even lost in the haze of him, you couldn’t abandon Sam, couldn’t leave her behind.
Harry smiled, something slow and knowing, something that hinted at promise. “Okay,” he answered. “But only because I want you so bad.”
And you leaned up on your toes, and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, and let your breath ghost across his skin as you whispered your answer.
“Good,” you said. “Because, now I’m going to let you have me any way that you want.”
Y/n is Harry's Boundaries & Harry is Y/n's Desires
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"I'm tired" His voice was muffled as he buried his face in her throat. Body wrapped around her like a vine, she was overheating in more ways than one but she couldn't tell him to move. She wanted him close enough that she could continue to feel his heartbeat. Arms that strong should feel suffocating with how he wound them around her body and kept her to his chest, but she would happily drown in him if it meant keeping him right in this place.
He was just better at speaking those desires out loud.
"I just want you to be with me all the time. As much as I love coming home to you...I don't want to have to keep leaving you behind. Is that too clingy of me to say?"
or
Yn is Harry's Boundaries and Harry is Y/n's Desires
(19K+ words)
Authors Note: Massive, massive thank you to @jarofstyles for including me in the #jarofstylesficchallenge !!! Had an absolute blast writing this and cannot wait for the next challenge! If readers are looking for new content, follow along with the #jarofstylesficchallenge Hope you enjoy, would love to hear what everyone thinks! <3
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Y/n was a hermit.
She would choose anything over a crowded party with sweaty bodies pressed together. She wouldn't even hesitate if she was presented with the option of staying home or going to a party with Niall. She loved Niall to pieces, but going to parties was so stressful for her. If she wanted to get hammered, she would rather it be at her flat with her best mates. Or even at her favorite pub that not many people knew about. Y/n enjoyed those nights in, much better than any of the parties Niall had dragged her to.
And over the years, Niall had dragged her to far too many parties. On special occasions, she would accompany Niall without too much thought. Like for his birthday or if they both had a particularly rough week and Niall promised her a burrito and back rub at the end of the night. Both things she deemed worthy of stressing over for a few hours while Niall loosened up with a few drinks and mindless chatter with his mates.
Most of the time, she would find someplace quiet- or quieter than right beside a speaker- and would sit and keep to herself till Niall had messaged her, he was ready to head out.
Tonight was no different.
She sat underneath the familiar weeping willow tree. The party was at the old campsite that college students took over a couple years back. Generally, the parties were held out here. It was secluded enough so people wouldn't call the police because of the loud music, but it wasn't in the middle of the forest where people felt like a serial killer was around the corner. The paths were cleared and the fire pits were still here for the parties after winter exams.
Y/n enjoyed the parties here more than the parties held at the frat or sorority houses close to campus. Those were much too crowded and by the end of the night, she smelled of liquor and sweat. And with the campsite, she had a tree she would sneak off to and just sit while scrolling through her phone, or sometimes Rhett would accompany her if he hit his quota for the night. Once in a blue moon, she would sneak a drink or two for herself, and enjoy the way her phone light would illuminate the branches of the weeping willow. This would make her wait go a lot faster, but tonight was not one of those nights.
Niall had coaxed her into coming out with him. She didn't give in right away. Instead, she reminded him how piss drunk he was last time and how his aim suffered- and because of it- she had to buy a new bath rug. And also warned him, she didn't grocery shop so his late night munchies wouldn't be satisfied if he crashed at her place. Although she was still dragged from her flat, she noticed the internal battle Niall was having and took note of that for next time this happened.
Because it was bound to happen again.
She had only been sitting for an hour and she swore it felt like three hours had passed. Her skin was covered in goosebumps and her tummy grumbled. Despite warning Niall she had no groceries, this also meant she still hadn't eaten since breakfas. She wished she was cuddled into the oversized blanket on her bed, a large stuffed burrito in her hand, and her lazy fur ball warming the bends of her legs.
Instead, her bum was numb and cold from the roots peeking out of the dirt. Her phone was dying slowly from her phone light illuminating the branches consuming her. And her mind played with all sorts of numbers to help justify her burrito cravings. All justification was thrown out the window when her stomach roared to life and she was determined to stop at a drive through before driving her and Niall home.
Y/n always felt guilty spending on fast food, especially with how often she does it, but she's always exhausted at the end of the day. Cooking is another chore to her and her muddled brain always gives in for something quick and already made.
Her inner battle consumed her thoughts, she hadn't heard the crunching of the leaves till she noticed a shadow entering the weeping willow's branches. She hadn't meant to jump as hard as she did, but this wasn't an area many drunk students stumble too. Throughout her time hiding out here over the years, she had never had someone approach her tree. Y/n almost felt territorial over her little area.
Which was just beyond silly.
"If 'ya got 't wee, I suggest finding a different tree," She spoke from her little spot against the large trunk of the tree. "This ones taken" Y/n's announcement startled the shadow as he walks closer to her.
Luckily the light lit his features as much as it possibly could. His button nose was bitten red and his lips matched the rosy splotches of his cheeks. His lips seemed a little irritated from the cold or possibly his front teeth dragging against his bottom plushy lip. From here, Y/n could see his wild, vivid, green eyes which pulled heat to the tips of her ears when paired with his fluffy brown curls peeking from his skewed beanie.
Y/n couldn't remember the last time the tips of her ears burned just at the sight of someone attractive. Which only made her flush even more as they continued to look at one another.
When Harry had stumbled his way over to this tree, he was convinced he'd either be the only one near this area or he'd find a couple nuzzled up in privacy. Despite neither happening, he's glad he found her. Even if he didn't know who 'her' was.
"'M sorry...didn't think anyone would be over here," Harry softly rambles. Within seconds, Y/n could tell he was a bit drunk. The soft slur in his voice, how he shifted side to side on his feet, and his eyes became a bit hooded the closer he got to her phone light. "But I don't have 't wee...definitely wouldn't wee on 'ya tree either. Think that would be a bit rude" He continued.
Despite being slightly pouty, Y/n felt the tiniest tug at the corner of her lips. Before she could form a response, he plopped down on his bum in front of her. His eyes blinked owlishly at her like he was waiting for her to say something. "What's made you wonder all the way over here? Usually, nobody stumbles in this direction" She questions with a limp shrug.
It took a second or two for Harry to formulate an answer. His eyes were too busy wondering over her features. She was clearly tired, he could see her blinks getting slower, but she also seemed so cuddly with her knitted, beige, oversized crewneck. The sleeves seemed to swallow her hands and if she had pushed her knees to her chest, there would be enough room for her crewneck to hug them. Her hair seemed so soft and shined brightly under the dim light. Perhaps Harry had drank a bit more than he thought because he was itching just to touch the material of her sweater and run his fingertips in her hair.
"Need'a minute to clear me thoughts," He murmured. It felt like he was still swimming in his observation but the way the cold air nipped at his skin helped ground him. "Gets hard 't think straight wit' all 'em people. 'N 'm a shit drinker, can't keep up wit' the rest of 'em" Harry admits with words slurring together.
Her lips tugged at his confession but the wind had picked up. A strong shiver shook her bones and she would give anything to be tucked away in her blankets, a crime show playing, while she balances on the edge of reality.
"Do look a bit starry in the eyes," She teases with a little tilt of her head. "If 'ya a shit drinker, why're you drinking" Y/n asks just to hear him ramble again.
Harry grumbles softly like he was giving her a soft whine. "Always underestimate how much I can drink," He mumbles. "Never feel like 'm drunk and everyone says 'm not drunk, so I get handed another drink. 'N I don't want to hurt their feelings, so I always drink it. But then I feel it all in me head" Harry explains, his chin resting in his palm and lips in a big wetted pout.
"Don't be lettin' 'em peer pressure 'ya into anythin' 'ya don't want 't do," Y/n responded with a bit of a pout. Although she despised when her friends would pressure her into something she didn't want to do, she made sure her voice was stern but not too stern to scare him off. Said peer pressure had made her a natural at this. "So 'ya just came to hide out here?" She questions.
Though his chin was still resting on his palm, he nodded slowly. Before he could speak, his mouth opened in a large yawn. "Bit knackered," He murmurs. "Been up since 6 this mornin'....wit' lectures 'n all that. Then Angela from economics asked if I was going to the party t'night... didn't really want to but it sounded like she wanted me here" Harry rambles with his blinks getting slower and words coming out sluggishly.
Watching him almost curl up in himself got Y/n a bit sleepy herself. More sleepy than she originally was. "Oh yeah? Where's Angela now?" Y/n asks after shooting a message to Niall that she was leaving in the next five minutes with or without him.
(She would never leave him, but if she didn't threaten it then Niall would wonder his way over in the next hour and half...like he'd done previously)
Harry shrugs with his shoulders nearly touching his ear. "Dunno, she said hi to me at the beginning but when I declined her offer for a 'little walk', I didn't see her much after that" He explained.
Y/n hadn't meant to snort out her laughter, but she wasn't expecting that. She didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't that. "Sorry," She apologized with a shy smile. "Why did 'ya decline her offer? Scared of wondering into the woods?" She had asked to help reestablish the flow of his rambling.
A drunken grin spread on Harry lips. "No, but I dunno...just didn't see her like that...guess it would've been a nice moment 't get my rocks off" He shrugs unknowingly.
When another set of crunches seemed to be getting closer and closer, Harry had whipped his head towards the noise. Y/n had picked herself up from the tree trunk and brushed any dirt that might've stuck to her bum. The material of her jeans was cold and almost appeared wet at the first touch. She knew she would rid herself of these jeans the moment she got home.
"Who's that?" Harry questions, chin pointing towards her as she stood over him. His jawline nearly being highlighted with her phone light.
"It's Niall, c'mon, g'na make sure you get home safely...don't need 't be pressured into drinking anymore" She offered a friendly smile and holding her hands out for him.
He'd placed his feet firmly on the ground and reached for her. With a tight grip on his hands, she tugs his arm to encourage him to stand up. He stumbles a bit getting to his full height- his head nearly bumping her shoulder- but she helps him regain his footing with extra help holding his hands. "Left 'ya here for a couple hours and you've already got Harry all over 'ya Babe!" Niall mocks with a wide grin.
"Oi, shut it" She sasses, holding onto his hand just incase the floor felt like it was going to break under him.
Niall giggles to himself. "Are you done already Styles!" He questions.
"No" Harry immediately smiles, taking steps like he was going to rejoin the party with Niall.
She squeeze his hand before letting go. "Harry's not done, but I am," Y/n yawned. "I'm knackered, 'n I'm takin' 'ya both home. Let's go"
"At least buy us dinner! We're not cheap fucks Babe" Niall jests.
"Should be buyin' me dinner after t'night," She murmurs as the growls of her stomach began to groan again. "Been sittin' here hungry and grumpy...c'mon then. Got a little walk 't the car" Y/n began leading the way towards her car.
Niall and Harry had made drunken conversation on their walk. Niall poking fun about Harry rejecting Angela's offer and Harry gasping about how he knew such a thing. "Anegla's been pouting 'bout it all night," Niall laughs. "I overheard her talkin' 't Oli 'bout it. Apparently she'd been trying to woo him after 'ya told her no. But Oli wasn't having it" He continues to giggle.
Harry shrugs his shoulders as they had reached Y/n's car after a short five minute walk. Niall threw himself in the back seat and offered what Y/n was hoping he would. "Since 'ya been such a blessing Babe," Niall chuckles. "Swing by that ol' drive through. Wit' 'em fries and burgers. 'M treating'" He pats his stomach.
Y/n knew exactly what drive through he was talking about. And she couldn't express how grateful she was. Her excitement may have gotten the best of her because she had done the fastest u-turn of her life.
Both Niall and Harry had been thrown into the side of the car, she heard them simultaneously thump into the car. "Christ Babe!" Niall gasps as he tried to hold onto the back of the seats. "Felt like the bloody car was on two wheels! Would've offered after the u-turn had I known you were going to turn into a stunt driver!" He groans as he situates himself back into the seat.
She giggles as she sits a bit taller in her seat. Stealing one or two glances at Harry, who looks like a stressed Mum teaching their sixteen year old daughter how to drive. "Stomaches been eatin' itself all night Ni! Fucking hungry" Y/n sighs before promising to drive a bit more safely.
"Should've said something befo' the party!" He taunts like he always does.
Y/n grumbles beneath her breath and shoots him a little glare. "Dickhead" She whispers.
Niall gasps with an 'offended' hand over his peck. "Do 'ya hear how she's treatin' me Harry!" He whines. "Here I am, buying all the food her tummy can possibly want, 'n she has the nerve 't call me a dickhead! You wound me heart Babe" Niall directs the last line to her.
Both Harry and Y/n giggle at Niall's little show. "G'na be gettin' Harry 'n I a milkshake too if 'ya don't put 'ya bloody seatbelt on!" She sternly scolds as she notices Niall fall forward after she started breaking.
"Will be gettin' myself one too Babe, don't leave me out of it" He fusses as he defeatedly buckles himself.
-
That night, they all had a big sleepover at Y/n's flat.
The three of them sat around the coffee table in Y/n's living room with Bourbon's orange tail rubbing against any part of their body he could touch. Niall encouraged everyone to get a shake, and they passed around the different flavors they had each gotten. Which then resulted in a heated debate between the three of them. Niall swore his was the best but he was gulping down Y/n's like it was his.
Y/n thought Harry's was better than Niall's, which made Niall want to try Harry's again. "Heyyyy," Harry whines after a large gulp from Niall.
"Still think mines better" Niall announces despite him nuzzling Y/n's milkshake straw back in his mouth.
After their debate, she made a pallet on the living room floor for Harry as Niall claimed the couch for himself. "We can snuggle if 'ya want, but Y/n's pallets are comfortable either way" Niall offers.
She'd already started spreading out an assortment of blankets on the floor when she snorts at Niall's offer. "Don't do it Harry," She warns. "He's a couch 'n a blanket hog. Nearly growls at me when I try to steal some blanket back" Y/n teases.
When they were both tucked in, Bourbon followed Y/n to her room as she did the last little steps before crawling into her own sheets. She decided to leave the hallway bathroom light on, just incase either of them had to wee throughout the night. She also left her bedroom door cracked just incase they needed her. But with that, she snuggled deep in her blankets with Bub's warming her feet.
It'd been a couple days since that night. The next morning she had slipped out early to go grocery shopping and by the time she returned, Niall and Harry were gone. Harry had folded all the blankets into a nice little pile and left a thank-you note for her. Which Niall had signed as well.
Harry lingered in the back of her mind which warmed the tips of her ears and the apples of her cheeks from time to time. She would force herself to shake him out of her mind, especially since she knew someone like Harry had girls after him. She knew she didn't stand a chance and she didn't see herself as someone Harry would want to woo anyways.
She had spotted him sometimes throughout campus when she was in between classes. Y/n could recognize some faces that surrounded him, but she would also notice a few girls lingering around him. Which made sense. Harry was gorgeous, it was no surprise to her that Harry would get this reaction from a few lasses and even blokes. And she sure as hell couldn't blame them.
Instead she would admire from a distance and even then she would stuff her face deeper into her book.
-
His heart slightly raced in the cavity of his chest as he walks out of his lecture. He had tried to fulfill his plan the first week after the party, but sometimes his friends around him made his thoughts a bit fuzzy. Or he would have trouble getting away from the suggestions thrown his way. "Are you going to this party Harry?", "Do you want to study together tonight?", " Up for some coffee before your next class?", and even some lasses being a bit forward and giving a suggestive glance toward the storage closet.
That last one had him choking on his own saliva as he declined with a "No thank you. Maybe next time" Before he and Oliver could reach the quad. The grassy area was the heart of campus and had a lot of students doing their own thing. Picnic tables surrounded the area with plushy grass and even large trees that provided a good amount of shade for the warmer days. If students weren't sitting down with friends or even by themselves, they were walking toward the little food hall or rushing to lecture rooms across campus.
It seemed like there was a place for any student needing one.
Harry had tried to make his way to one particular spot the next few days after the party, but it never worked out. He'd notice her sitting on the grass, next to the tree, similar to how he'd stumbled on her at the party. She was always occupied with a book, her phone, or even Niall and Rhett, who'd he'd recognize after Oliver pointed him out to Harry. And as the days grew cooler, she would always be cuddled into a soft looking sweater. Harry had thought maybe the desire to cuddle into her sweater was drunken thoughts, but that desire was slowly but surely poking at the back of his mind whenever he saw her.
He would wonder what she was reading, whenever he'd look at her, she was always so engrossed in her book. It was no secret to him that she was a reader. He sees a different cover throughout the days he's seen her and he vaguely remembers her living room having bookshelves surrounding her tv. He even vaguely remembers trying to read certain titles, but they hadn't stuck to his muddled brain.
When he finds her in the same spot, book in hand, and a bag of grapes beside her, he just about runs toward her. He'd remember approaching her being a bit easier when he was drunk because as he got closer to her, she finally lifted her eyes to him. Her brows raised a bit when she noticed him walked toward her but she gave him a friendly closed-lipped-smile as he joins on the grass. "Hey there curly," She greets him, leaning further against the tree. "Gotten anymore offers for walks in the woods?" She slightly taunts.
His nose scrunches up as he smiles. "No, but did get a suggestive look to the storage closet" He banters.
"Oooo, little romp action in the closet. How scandalous and romantic," She continues to tease. "What's brought 'ya over?"
Harry still has the smile on his face as he shrugs his shoulders. His shoulders relaxed tenfold just sitting in front of her. Although his heart was still racing, he felt a little lighter than he had been. "Wanted 't hang out with you," He says with the corner of his lips still up. She narrowed her eyes playfully as he giggles. "Also want to say thank you fo' driving me after the party" He says with a grateful smile on his lips.
Y/n's eyes were still-playfully- narrowed at him. Her hands mindlessly pick the bag till a bright green grape sat between her fingers. The grape was quickly plopped in her mouth as she shrugged. "Can I tempt 'ya wit' some grapes then?" She offers, holding out the bag for him to take one.
He'd stuffed his hand in the bag and happily munched on the fruit. The second his teeth sunk into the skin, it popped, and the grape juice fills his mouth. "What're you reading? Looked awfully focused before I disrupted you" Harry pokes, eyes landing at the book still cradled in her other hand.
Y/n's thumb was between the stack of pages and her eyes were quick to glance at the book. It was a crimson red hardcover with a deep gold summary on the back. "Oh umm," As quickly as her playful banter appeared, it was washed away with shy eyes, and even a soft red to the tips of her ears. "I bought a hardcover of this book I read in high school. It was my favorite so I was just revisiting" She explains sheepishly.
This was different. Harry hadn't seen her so sheepish, despite only being with her for a very limited amount of time. "Yeah? Tell me 'bout it" Harry smiles, leaning against his pack and locking his ankles together.
By the palms of his hands resting on his lower tummy, he looked comfortable. Even that dimpled lazy smile had gotten Y/n's ears warming a bit more. "It's just some teenage romance book about a vampire prince and whatnot" Y/n's shakes her head, eyes admiring the hardcover.
"I'm a sucker for romance!" Harry encourages. "And vampires?! I've seen Twilight once or twice before" He muses.
Y/ was quick in kissing her teeth with a lazy grin of her own. "This is not about a vampire who sparkles in the sunlight! This is so much better than a vampire and a werewolf fighting over a girl! This is about vampire royalty from Romina!" She gasps, fingertips holding onto the book a bit tighter.
"Yeah?" Harry laughs.
"Yes!" She puffs. "Lucius Vladescu would take great offense, knowing you would compare his royalty and superior race to that of something out of Hollywood! He would be very disappointed" Y/n argues, earning a wider grin from Harry.
If Harry had known that asking Y/n to explain the book she held in her lap, would've set her off on an exciting tangent, he would've asked so much sooner. He didn't think he would enjoy this conversation nearly as much as he actually did, especially over a book he'd never read.
She was so passionate about the details throughout the book. There were so many moments where Harry was just captivated by every little word she spoke. He caught himself leaning forward as Y/n noticed how long she had been rambling. Her cheeks were painted nearly the same crimson red as the book cover and her hands hid inside the sleeves of her sweater.
This was only his second time being around her. He'd thought that maybe his drunken mind hadn't remembered the night correctly. Or even misinterpreted the warmth spreading in his chest for her kind gesture of taking care of him when he was drunk.
But it didn't seem like that was the case.
-
Much like Niall dragging her to parties, Rhett and Libbie had the habit of doing the same thing. Studying with Libbie and playing video games with Rhett was more bearable than some of the parties Niall dragged her too. But regardless, she would agree to tag along after a bit of back and forth. Even when she really didn't want to study or hear Rhett whining about how his controller was working against him in a game of Mario Kart.
Yet, the last thing she wanted to do was meet Libbie after lectures in a reserved study pod on a Friday evening.
But Y/n still did.
"Hey" Her bright blonde bob with tinsel tied at the root smiles at her. Her manicured hands reached to assess the mess of folders, binders, notebooks, textbooks, and skewed pens- creating a little space for Y/n's materials. "Guess what happened in labs today?"
The way her hazel green eyes shimmered told Y/n what she was holding her breath for. This study session wasn't going to be filled with just studying. She didn't know why she had been so against being in her own thoughts as of late. Instead of going around and around in daydreams, lesson material, and new books she was reading like she normally did- she demanded her own thoughts be distracted by something else. Her brain had grown tired of being stuffed with information and daydreaming was becoming treacherous waters for her.
So she was delighted to hear all about the chemical reactions Libbie was experimenting with in her lab course. Even if she had no idea what thermite reactions were. (By the sounds of it, it was explosive and fiery)
"They did that in labs?" Y/n questioned after Libbie had demonstrated the crackling and neon orange reaction she observed.
"Yeah! I mean it was outside and the class was standing like twenty feet away," She shrugged. "Even got to snag some of these! There from the molten iron" Libbie presented three pea-sized iron balls that was smudged with black debris.
Y/n picked one up, rubbing the cool metal between her index and thumb. "That's mighty cool" She softly smiles and placed the trophy back into Libbie's palm. "Reckon I wouldn't have believed you had you not had 'em little pebbles" Y/n teases.
The lab results was the first of many different topics they discussed. Libbie covered all areas from lectures, work- she had many different odd jobs- and personal life. Y/n offered questions here and there, getting lost in everything Libbie was telling her. Especially the workplace drama between owners at a local pub she was hired at. "He did that in front of the customers?" Y/n gasped.
Libbie gave her a fierce nod. "Yeah, made it totally awkward. Like I get why he was mad, but it wasn't punching a wall bad," She shrugged, her fingers twirling a pen. "It was even worse having to act like everything was totally chill. A few customers closed their tab and left...everyone left after they went into the walk-in and started yelling at each other" She winced like she could still hear them.
"Sounds messy, have you been back since?"
"Nope." She popped the 'p'. "I had to request a few days off for school, but Will told me that it's been super slow the last couple days. Probably because everyone saw them arguing"
Y/n scoffed through her nose as she nods.
"Can I ask you something?"
"I'm not going to take one of your hot pilate classes." Y/n shook her head. "Rhett and Niall are dragging me to another party tomorrow so I'm not waking up early on my day off to 'detoxify my body' and make a fool of myself in front of everyone. I'm sorry, I just can't"
Libbie tossed her head back, hand covering her mouth as she laughed. "No! I wasn't- I mean one of these days you're going to take my hot pilates class, but that's not what I was going to ask you." She continued to giggle as Y/n let out an audible 'oh'. "Just wanted to ask what's going on with you and Harry?" Her tone was teasing and suggestive when she said Harry's name.
As quickly as she was able to let go of her thoughts and just indulge in the work drama with Libbie, everything came flooding back. The bit of tension of having to come up with an answer. Her heart racing in its cavity hearing his name. Hell, the tips of her ears and length of her neck flushed deathly hot like they had been doing since he wondered over to her under the weeping willow.
"Nothing." She stated, her tone even and luckily masking any and all nervousness she was feeling. "Why do you ask?" Her real curiosity peeked out.
Libbie shrugs, a soft and reassuring grin over her lips. "Heard Angela complaining 'bout how Harry had left her for you." She admitted. This didn't help settle Y/n's nerves or racing heartbeat. "Wasn't sure if she was just being dramatic or whatnot. But I did see Harry siting with you the other day." She was so nonchalant about the conversation it made Y/n flush even more for being so jittery. Y/n knew even if Libbie hadn't taken this nonchalant position on the topic, she would still be understanding if Y/n didn't want to talk about it.
"Oh," She let out a small breath. "He just came to say thank you for taking care of him. I had him and Ni spend the night after a party. Went shopping the next morning and when I came back, they were both gone" She felt the need to explain herself.
Her friend nodded. "Guess Angela took that as Harry leaving with you. But I could'a sworn I heard Oli say she was trying to woo him." She tilted her head. "Or maybe it was Niall. Anyways, are you and Harry bezzies now?" Libbie thought out loud, proving time and time again that she blurts out whatever comes to mind.
Y/n shrugs, "Dunno." The same thought had been swirling through her own mind. "Just been hanging out between lectures. Just assumed he's got nobody else to hangout with during that time" She answered honestly, despite a little sting echoing in her chest.
Her friend gave her a skeptical glance, her eyes squinted and lips pressed together. "Nobody else? 'M sure someone like Harry has loads of friends...and if not friends, plenty of suitors wanting to spend some time with him" Libbie had a point there. Y/n had seen this first hand. He was always surrounded by friends and classmates. She felt like a creep after she'd taken note of a new face surrounding him everyday.
It made her skin spike with goosebumps as she mentally scolded herself. "I guess you're right." She agreed. "I dunno, guess I haven't really thought about it...certainly didn't think someone else would be so up in arms about it either" She lied.
Of course that thought had crossed her mind. More specifically as she tried to fall asleep for the night. As she revisited the events from the day, her heart would pick up ever-so-slightly recalling Harry finding her again under her tree with another book. The same question of what she was reading would break the ice till they've gone off on a tangent, which was only broken when either of them realized they were going to be late for their next lecture. Y/n wondered if he only hung out with her because he felt guilty about the party. Or maybe like he needed to repay her for her kindness and hospitality. She would pout at the idea of him feeling like he needed to repay her. But even during these thoughts, Y/n would daydream of Harry actually enjoying her company. She would play these events, picture them as if she were reading a book, and often fell asleep with a smile on her face as she played pretend.
"Don't sweat it" Libbie had giggled softly. "Was just curious. Hey, do 'ya wanna pack up and grab dinner? Kinda wanna stuff my glob while watching Teen Wolf"
-
Y/n was better prepared for the night.
She didn't feel like she was-in the beginning- when Rhett and Niall decided to pregame at her flat. They had brought over beers to guzzle from as she debated which sweater would keep her the warmest. Which wasn't a problem till they're boisterous laughing picked up and ten second later she heard ceramic breaking. When she had rushed out of her bedroom, it was silent, Rhett and Niall were already looking in her direction. Both of their fingers were blaming each other for the broken vase.
Despite the broken vase, she had stuffed an old flashlight she found in her closet into her back pocket and made sure she had a portable charger with her. She'd gotten lucky last time with Harry stumbling over to her and Niall being hungry to leave earlier than normal. But since Niall would have Rhett, it wasn't going to work in her favor.
So, she got comfortable against the weeping willow. Her flashlight illuminated better than her phone did and she killed a lot of time reading a book she stuffed in her bag. Mindlessly, she began reaching for the bag of crisps she'd thrown in there and snacked.
Rhett had sent her a few messages throughout the first hour and half of being out. Asking the normal questions like are you alive, are you sure you don't wanna join, do you have any snacks on you, and why wouldn't she bring a bag of crisps for him. She giggled at the last question, rolling her eyes as she rejoined the fantasy world of her book.
Enjoying the book was too much of an understatement. Not when the book had her blushing, squealing to herself, and even checking over her shoulder to make sure that nobody could see the absolute filth she'd been reading. And especially not when she didn't even hear the whisper of her name and crunching of leaves coming closer to her.
The sting in her cheeks and her hand trying to cover up the splintering grin on her face could be seen through the shadows of the willow's weeping branches. Harry hummed to himself, equally surprised but completely expecting to find Y/n in her natural state. The sight of her pulled a boyish smile on his lips, drawing him in deeper to the little oasis she always created.
An oasis he couldn't find anywhere else, not that he bothered trying.
He was finally in front of her when she'd let out an audible squeal, her fingers tightening on the cover, and eagerly turning the page. Harry gave a tummy-filled chuckle as he watched. "Is this about Romania vampire royalty too?" He asked through his amusement.
If the chest tightening gasp didn't show her surprise, then her wide eyes and slaw jaw did. "Harry!" She squealed, dropping the pages but not before her thumb sat between the pages. "Where the hell did 'ya come from! Scared me to bits" Her hand was flushed to her heart as she could feel the pulse in her fingertips. The sheer panic had made her regret wearing the warmest sweater.
"Was calling y'er name when I came up" Harry laughed, hands in his front pockets, layered jackets over his torso, and beanie pulled over his ears. "What's the best way to interrupt someone who's so submerged in their book, they don't even notice someone walking up to them and hollering their name" He questioned rhetorically.
Y/n's neck craned up to him as she displayed a pout. "That's easy! You don't!" She playfully scolds. "Especially if they don't even hear you hollering their name." Her eyes rolled but a smile replaced her little pout.
"Noted" He nodded his head. Harry had took confident strides till he was closer to her and sat down. His smile was still painted on his red lips and he'd never looked so soft and boyish. "This book have vampires like the other one?" He pointed with his hand hiding in his jackets pocket, toward the book in her lap.
She shook her head softly, running her fingertips over the skull on the front. "I mean yes there's vampires, but other creatures as well...but no, no vampire royalty." She regretted for the second time that night, wearing her warmest sweater. It felt like she was suffocating in the knitted fabric and sweltering emotions.
"Tell me about it"
There it was again. The question that made her glance at the book and to the boy in front of her. And then came all the scenes her mind painted for her as she read.
She was-really- going to suffocate if she didn't get ahold of the blush, embarrassment, and adrenaline running through her.
"I-It's a bit dark. A romance fantasy book...umm it plays with the nine circles of hell. But there's magic and games." Y/n's skin was on fire and she couldn't stop fidgeting with the necklace hanging from her throat. It felt taboo-not only explaining the book- but being excited to do so. But then that voice at the back of her mind made her words fumble over one another.
Harry smirked, hand reached out and asking to see the book. 'He's trying to kill me' Y/n thought as she handed him the book, remembering the page she was last reading. She doesn't know why she handed it to him. She once again regretted her decision, especially as he began inspecting the book.
Her heart was a pounding mess. "Huh, would'a never guess," Harry teases, pointing to the skull, red roses, and golden necklace over the book's cover. However, it wasn't till he opened the book that her heart completely stopped. "What's a Blackwell?" He asked with a crunched nose.
All her words were failing her and she desperately needed the cold winter air to slap her across the face. "Uhh he's a phantom...the love interest in the book" She choked out.
"Ye alright love?"
'No!' Her brain screamed. Against her better judgement, she nodded and gave a tight smile. "Yeah" She reaffirmed.
Which ultimately made Harry go back to the book and browse over the page he opened. And that's when her worst nightmare happens in front of her. An even wider smirk spread across Harry's lips and his eyes glanced over to her. Almost like his eyes were a sword, holding her against the tree trunk, she couldn't even swallow without feeling the sharpness of his stare poking her in the throat.
"Well I hate to spoil this for you...but Blackwell just tore off her clothes" Harry taunted.
"Harry!" She gasped, immediately hiding herself in her hands and crunching herself into a defensive ball.
This set Harry into a fit of laughter, closing the book, and holding it against his tummy as his shoulder bounced. "What?" He giggles, wiping under his left eye. "There's nothing wrong with reading this. Some people watch porn, you just happen to read it" He continued to joke.
Y/n grabbed the book from his hands- scared he would read even more of the smut- and threw it into her bag. "Nobody likes to be caught with porn, whether they read it or watch it" She murmurs.
Harry threw his head, laughing more, but this time Y/n offered him an amused grin. "Well, depending on who you ask. Otherwise, very true." The comment had both of them laughing, Y/n shook her head.
"Any other suggestive looks at storage closets or walks in the woods?" She asked, tilting her head till it rested on the bark behind her.
Once again, Harry's lips were painted in a boyish grins as he shook his head. "No, think everyone took the hint 'm not a cheap fuck" He bantered. "Deserve at least a movie and dinner"
"Glad they got the hint" She teases.
"Me too" Harry genuinely smiled.
An army of butterflies fought war in her tummy and the tips of her ears felt the surge of blood rushing to the tips of them. She felt lightheaded- like she was held underwater for hours and she had just came up for a breath, gasping for air, and trying to clear the muddled fog in all her senses. If she didn't know any better, she would accuse Harry of magic.
But rather than letting her mind conjure up anything and everything, she asked, "What's brought you this way, hmm? Don't seem spacey in the eyes and you're not slurring."
"Came to find you" He immediately responded. Which hit her like a splash of cold water. And it was not helping the control over her thoughts. "Saw Rhett 'n Niall a while ago. Was trying to find the right time to leave the group, basically ran this way when everyone was arguing 'bout some footie game or whatnot"
"Didn't have 't leave the fun. I'm basically g'na be here all night" She sighed with a content smile.
Harry shrugged. "Wasn't fun over there. Having more fun now than the whole two hours I spent wit' all 'em" He responded.
"Angela invite you again?"
The question was abrupt. It didn't give her time to mule over Harry's soft eyes and even softer response. Nor did she have time to reanalyze how it might've sounded a bit pushy.
Luckily, Harry didn't seem to give it a second thought. "No, Oliver actually dragged me to this one. Said something 'bout how Holly had a friend who was interested in me and well he likes Holly so I didn't have a choice" He shrugged.
"I don't know curly, sounds a lot like a suggestive glance to a storage closet" This time she couldn't pass up the opportunity to throw a little taunt.
And it seemed like Harry took it as just that when he chuckles with her. "Did your little smutty books tell 'ya that?" He poked right back.
Y/n couldn't stop her snort. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to cover the laugh that was crawling up her throat. She failed as she felt a tug in her tummy and rather than fighting it, her hand hovered over her smile as she giggles. "My smutty books didn't have 't tell me anything. That's just common sense"
"I guess so," He tucked his chin to his chest. "Common sense or not, didn't wanna hangout wit' 'em. Not when you're a better time"
The last fifteen minutes of suffering in her flushed skin didn't compare to the sweltering heat that consumed her at his admission. Every pore and centimeter of her skin was set ablaze and it felt as if she was the chemical reaction Libbie had told her about. She wanted to throw off her sweater and be left to the cold elements- an attempt of many she would make just to ground herself a bit more before she said something she would regret.
"Aish, y'er just saying that because 'ye wanna another floor pallet 'n milkshake t'night" She jabs with a slow shake of her head.
"Aish! 'Ya caught me, guilty as charged." Harry placed his wrists together- hands once again hiding inside his jacket pockets- and acting as if he had handcuffs over them. "A milkshake sounds great right now...despite nearly freezing me bullocks off"
"We'll have 't stop fo' one on the way home" Y/n giggles, shaking her head at his comment. "Dunno how soon that'll be, suppose Rhett 'n Niall are having the time of their lives" She mocked.
Their banter only went on from there. Harry had no trouble making Y/n curl up in laughter while she threw jab after jab to continue the jokes they were bouncing off one another. Both their laughter had echoed in the deserted surroundings and it felt as if they were hiding from the world. Like they were children hiding underneath a blanket or in a tree house, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. The flashlight illuminating their own little hideaway as they got comfortable on the forest floor.
Harry had inched closer to her throughout their conversation before he finally crawled to the space next to her. Muttering something about how his back was a bit achy and he needed the trunk to lean against, which Y/n didn't second guess till he sat right beside her. His body heat came in overpowering waves and his arm was flushed with hers. Finally, her mind took control and played with their scenario. Playing with countless "what if's" and trying to convince her of something she was certain didn't exist. His back simply hurt. Nothing more, nothing less.
Sitting beside one another, they rest on the body of the tree and just looked into the weeping branches that swallowed them whole. Their giggling had faded into an appreciated silence and the music echoing from the party sounded even further away than before. The warmth of their interaction and the boy sitting beside her made a soundless yawn escape, wondering if today was the day she would fall asleep while waiting for Niall and Rhett.
But it seemed like her thoughts had summoned them both. She could hear Niall's boisterous laugh and Rhett's snickering grow in volume with the crunching of leaves. Despite not knowing what they were giggling about, Y/n could surely tell they were drunk. Niall's laugh was flowing like the beers were and Rhett was spewing everything that came to mind.
"Babe! Is 'ya phone off or somewhat? Why in the bleeding fuck are 'ya-" Rhett entered the harbor created around Harry and Y/n. His voice stopped at the sight of the couple and a grin spread over his face. "Well guess 'ye weren't ignoring me texts! Told 'ya so" He pointed toward Niall.
"Oh fuck off! 'Ye didn't tell me shite!" Niall slapped his accusatory finger. "'Ye just moaned and groaned that she wasn't answering. The fucker thought 'ye got eaten by a bear or some shit" He admitted.
Although Y/n had been enjoying the comfortable silence around her and Harry, she thought Rhett and Niall were pretty entertaining. "Sorry Darlin', hadn't checked me phone or noticed 'ya text. Are 'ya having fun?" She questions, bending her knee to point toward the height of the tree.
Both lads grunt similarly. "Guess I wouldn't be checking my phone either had Harry came 't visit me," Rhett taunts. "Can't believe you traded 'ya lads for this little cozy place...can't blame 'ya though. Just know, she promised me a cuddle t'night"
"Oi, fuck off," Y/n's giggle was careless and soft. "Didn't promise 'ya anything besides a ride home. 'N Harry didn't trade anyone. I dragged him over here. Couldn't stop yapping 'n the gent was just entertaining me" She lied so smoothly.
She could feel Harry's arm grow stiff and practically saw his heart stutter at Rhett's accusation. Immediately, she could foresee Rhett and Niall teasing Harry. Which was just part of their personalities, but Y/n wanted to mediate a bit, so the lie slid off her lips so easily. But as she thought about it, it wasn't total lie! She was yapping a bit so Harry really didn't have an opportunity to rejoin the party. Even if he said he didn't want to.
"She does yap a lot" Niall muttered, plopping on his bum in a clumsy way.
Y/n rolled her eyes. "Shut it, 'ya gave Rhett, Libbie, 'n I a three hour presentation 'bout golf strategies 'n how your life dream is to attend the championships 'n get a green suit or whatnot" She kisses her teeth playfully.
"Nooooo" Rhett whined, tossing his head back, covering his eyes with the balls of his hands.
"Oi, 's called The Masters 'n 's a green jacket!" Niall defended with an offended gasp. "Some presentation I gave if 'ye can't even remember that!"
"Wasn't paying even the slightest bit of attention Ni" She admitted.
"Me either" Rhett sighed, sitting down beside Niall.
"Libbie has always been me favorite anyway"
Everyone- including Niall- stopped for a second and just giggled. Giggle at the chaos of conversation and just how quickly everyone was poking at each other's buttons. Nothing but friendly fire before it was brushed off and a new topic was brought up.
Rhett put his arms behind him, leaning against his palms as he tilted his head side to side. "Didn't 'ya come wit Oliver, Holly, 'n Holly's friend...Bianca?" He asked, eyebrows crunched.
Harry had been playing with his beanie, having swiped at his hair underneath it a bit till it was to his liking, and put the beanie back on. "Yeah, they still out there?" Harry tilted his head.
"Yeah, think Bianca was actually looking fo' 'ya." Rhett admitted. "Someone had said 'ye went 't the bathroom 'n then she went out looking fo' 'ya"
Within his many layers, Harry inched a bit close to Y/n as he searched for his phone. One of his jackets had a breast pocket on the inside where he had pulled out his phone. The light blinded both him and Y/n as he tapped it to life. As Y/n was going to look away from the screen, he turns it to show her. Oliver had sent him a handful of messages that they were both reading.
*Oliver: Where'd 'ya ran off too? Being a bloody woodland nymph!
*Oliver: Holly, B, 'n I are by the fire
*Oliver: Alive????
*Oliver: Hello????
*Oliver: Oi, Bianca is complaining to Holly about you ditching her. Where tf are you???
*Oliver: Alright now Bianca's feelings are actually hurt, come find us ASAP
"Guess 'ye weren't the only one ignoring someone's messages." Harry smiles at Y/n just as she finished reading the texts. She didn't know how Harry would've smoothed this over with Oliver or Bianca. She felt guilty for stealing Harry and keeping him to herself. Especially when he admitted that Bianca had came for him.
Poor lass was probably thinking the worst of Harry. And what would she think if Harry reappeared with Y/n at his side.
Y/n shook her head. "C'mon, got 't go talk 't her" Y/n announced. She picked herself up, dusting her bum off and grabbing the nearby flashlight.
"Who Babe?"
"Bianca." She double checked her bags inventory and zipped it up once everything was accounted for. "Don't want her feelings 't be hurt because I yapped Harry's ear off. Especially if she came 't spend her evening wit' him...'ye lads wanting 't stay longer?" Her eyes skimmed over Niall and Rhett as they got up messily.
It seemed like the floor wobbled underneath them as they caught their balance with a few extra steps. Which told her everything she needed to know.
"No. Party was a bit of a bust." Rhett reached to the sky and Y/n could hear the little cracks of his knees and back. "How 'bout a movie 'n food at 'ya flat" He suggested.
Y/n shrugged. "G'na have 't pick something up, don't wanna cook." Without another word or protest, the four of them made their appearance to the campsite.
Usually four to five fires were going and the overlapping conversations would be louder than the music. The campsite would ooze with energy and the crowds of people were easy to spot even from Y/n's willow tree, despite the distance.
But not this time.
Instead, three fires were crackling, a soft hum of conversation echoed, and music was playing over the conversations. A lot of people were still enjoying their time and it was still busy enough for Y/n to retreat to her tree. But it wasn't the busiest night the group had seen.
When Rhett had found Oliver, he got to him with everyone else just behind. "Harry! Where've you been!" Oliver's eyes were a bit wide and Harry could feel the heat rising up his neck to his cheeks.
Harry hadn't been thinking. He didn't consider disappearing would hurt Bianca's feelings or that disappearing might've pissed off Oliver. He- at the very least- could've popped back in or sent a message explaining where he'd gone. Harry just wanted to see Y/n. He didn't get to see her Thursday or Friday after lectures and he hadn't asked for her number. It was almost like he was fixing for a hit of the high she always gave him. Everything was just so easy around her and she had a way about her that made Harry attracted to her.
All of these thoughts had flooded his mind despite Oliver waiting for answer. Like a deer in headlights, Harry froze. "My fault Oli, hadn't realized I was holding him up. Couldn't stop yapping 'n then Rhett and Ni joined. We all lost track of time."
If Y/n was proving something, it was that she would take the fall no matter what. Harry didn't know why she didn't just throw him under the bus. Even the first time Harry had stumbled toward her, she took the bullet. Y/n had covered for him and Harry felt guilty just telling her do that. She shouldn't have to be the bad guy just because his brain stops working around her.
"'S not 'ya fault Pet." The nickname had fallen off his tongue, he didn't even realize he said it till the heat enclosed around his ears. Harry was grateful he'd just tucked his ears back inside his beanie. "Shouldn't have wondered. Went 't look fo' a drink, stumbled on Y/n, 'n had me phone on silent."
By then, Bianca and Holly had joined their circle. Bianca's arms were crossed and Holly looked a bit peeved at Harry. "Leave it 't Y/n 't prattle someone's ear off" Oliver immediately began to joke.
Y/n's jaw went slack and her eyebrows crunched. "Do I really talk that much!" She squealed playfully.
"Just teasing 'ya" Oliver giggled at his own little joke. "y'er as quiet as a mouse! Don't know how you became friends wit' Rhett and Niall here"
"They took my silence as me listening and never left"
The once quick tension instantly melted away. Oliver had threw his head back while Niall and Rhett started grumbling on about something. Even Harry couldn't help the little grin on his lips, but it faltered when Bianca stepped closer to him.
Conversation had grown mute to him when the fellas started throwing playful jabs to one another. Harry had rubbed his hands on his pants and smiled softly to Bianca. "Sorry 'bout running off. I was g'na head out right now, but here. I can shoot 'ya a text next time Oli 'n I go out or somewhat" The words had escaped his mouth before he could rethink everything.
It didn't help when Bianca snatched his phone out of his hand and immediately input her number "Or you can text me to grab some dinner. I'll be free Thursday night, we can grab coffee Monday after lectures too" She smiled and handed his phone back.
Harry didn't bother to look at his phone. Instead, he clicked it off and shoved it in his pocket. "Umm sure maybe" He'd never been so thankful for Niall when he announced he needed some food. "Bye" Harry awkwardly waved and followed Y/n.
"Burgers?" Rhett offered as everyone shoved themselves inside her car.
"Nooo burritos!" Y/n twisted her key and immediately started pressing all the buttons for the heaters.
"I vote burritos too" Niall stated.
Like meerkats, everyone turned toward Harry- who had just buckled his seatbelt in the passenger seat. "Thought we were getting milkshakes?" He looked over to Y/n.
"Its a tie"
Y/n and Niall looked at one another, seeing if either one of them wanted to change their answer. "I'll fill up 'ya tank if we grab both" Niall offered.
"Deal"
"She's on empty mate"
-
Despite her mixed feelings and many swirling thoughts, she couldn't help the warmth sprouting from her chest. It oozed from her heart and flooded her system. It was almost like the biting cold and stiff joints from the cold temperatures didn't matter. Her insides were warm and her mind was finally liberated from everything trying to constrain it.
Her flat smelled of burritos, greasy burgers, loaded fries, and this time Rhett had joined in on the debate of favorite milkshake flavors. "Ni's is straight shit" He pointed at the foam cup in-between Niall's palms. "Think Y/n's is my favorite...I even like Harry's better than mine"
"Ni's isn't that bad" Harry shrugged. "It's just pistachio...should try it with chocolate added to it."
When their food mess was forgotten on the coffee table, Y/n brought out blankets, turned off the lights, and gave the remote to the lads to fight over. She claimed the whole length of the couch, laying down on her side, curled up in the softest blanket she reserved for herself. Rhett had grabbed her ankles and lifted till they were settled over his lap. Niall sat on the floor where her hand had been resting, picking it up at the wrist, and pushing it in his hair. Harry took the spot next to Niall, pouting that he hadn't thought about Y/n running her fingers through his hair.
Well, he had definitely thought about it. But he was afraid she wouldn't like that idea.
It was inevitable for Y/n to fall asleep. And she did before the title was even shown on the screen. So it was a surprise for her when she woke up in her bed the next morning. In desperate need for water, she shuffled to the kitchen, stopping in the living room to see the three lads sprawled out on the floor.
So, yeah. Her heart was really warm and she etched this image in her mind before grabbing her water and going back to sleep.
-
Y/n was fucked.
She tried to prevent this, she really did. But it was just one of those situations that no matter how hard she tried, it was bound to happen sooner or later. At least that's what she was telling herself to make her inner turmoil settle.
It wasn't working.
Not when her heart was pattering against her ribcage, her cheeks were flushed, and a splitting grin was over her lips. Goodness, she probably looked loony sitting underneath the tree, after class, with the smile that had wormed its way on her mouth.
Her book was split over her thigh, her last page forgotten when she checked her phone after it vibrated with a text. An unknown number had sent her two messages, introducing himself, and asking a question that had been similar to one within her suppressed daydreams.
*Unknown: Hiiiii it's Harry!!!
*Unknown: I saw this rad bookstore that made me think 'bout you! Wanted to know if you wanted to check it out with me tonight? I can pick you up at 5??
So much was running through her thoughts. How did he get her number? He thought about her? How often? Or was it just when he saw books she would pop into his mind? Was this a date? Or was this just friends hanging out?
It had to be friends just hanging out. Right? If he wanted it to be a date, he would've said it was a date. And Harry would've asked her in person rather than over the phone. Especially if he was sticking to routine that they had built of joining her under her tree after his lecture. Plus, it was Monday night. Totally not Friday night or Saturday night when dates normally take place.
Right?
*Harry: Hope 'ya don't mind me asking Niall for your number! I had wanted to ask for it the other night, but that milkshake debate got heated!
Regardless of her questions and attempt to go back to her book, she sent Harry a message agreeing to his offer. The feverish blush didn't go away and would only intensify whenever she saw the hours dwindling down to 5. The excitement of browsing new isles filled with books and maybe finding a book or two she would fall in love with had her heat picking up. Of course, not because of the lad who thought of her when he saw a bookstore.
Nope, not because of him.
And definitely not when he knocked on her door at 5 sharp. Or when she opened the door to find him in another beanie, layers, and a boyish pink smile.
Harry must've been excited to see the books as well.
"Hey Y/n." Harry wanted to slap himself. His voice came out breathless and his mind couldn't even process the events throughout the day. All the predate anxieties twisted his stomach into painful knots while his heartbeat was pounding underneath his skin. He wanted to rip off the beanie as his skin was on fire with his two jackets following as sweat was sure to start building on his skin.
"Hey curly" Y/n had stepped out, locking the door behind her, and flashed him a wide smile. "So, where's this infamous bookstore 'ya found? Think it's time I broke my book buying ban" Her laugh had shook his head, legs feeling like jello as he hadn't registered that they were walking toward his car.
"A ban from buying books?" He felt like a fish out of water just repeating what she said. "Why would you do that?"
"I asked myself that for..." She picked up her phone and looked at the screen. "...two months. But I was spending wayyyy too much money on books. Especially when I couldn't read them fast enough. But I think I earned a new book or two" Y/n shrugged, trying to ignore Harry opening her door and not closing it till she was settled comfortably.
"But every time I see you, you've got a new book in 'ya hands" Harry commented, his car roaring to life, and warm air shooting out at them. "Surely you've got 't be reading them fast"
"Ehhh, faster than the average college student maybe. I revisit a lot of books"
"Why's that?"
The drive was filled with her explanation and more questions. Listening to her talk allowed Harry to relax, but when she'd laugh and throw her own little joke after his, reassured him that she was enjoying his company. For as much as she could explain the books she read, list off all the books she still hasn't read, and throw witty comebacks, it left Harry confused.
Not because he couldn't keep up with her explanation. Never because of that. Y/n always explained in ways that allowed him to follow and gave him opportunities to ask questions when he didn't.
Harry was confused on what her feelings were towards him.
Y/n was so nonchalant in the most responsive ways possibles. Like when she would joke with him, but then ask about the offers thrown his way and Angela. Or when Y/n would smile and blush for the compliments or flirtatious comments Harry would give her, but pivot the conversation to something else. And the way she looked at him with wide eyes and a squeal in her throat, but disappear into the maze of books.
It gave Harry whiplash at times. Like now, when he was trying to find her among the piles of books.
"There 'ya are, I lost 'ya fo' a second." He smiled, seeing her sitting down at the base of a shelf, five books stacked to her right, and a sixth book in her hands.
Harry sat beside her as she gave him another one of those soft smiles. "Sorry...guess I should'a warned 'ya. I'm a wonder-er in bookstores." Her cheeks ran pink and her eyes flickered from her book to Harry in a shy glance. "One time, Rhett had to have help from staff members to find me. Still took 'em fifteen minutes to find me. Wish I could show 'ya their faces when they saw it was me they were looking for and not a five-year-old"
Again, Harry sat beside her and giggled. "'S okay, 'm glad 'ya liking it here. Was really nervous it wouldn't be up 't par wit' all the other bookstores 'm sure you've visited" He admitted.
Y/n looked at him as if he had five heads and snakes for a beard. "Are 'ya kidding! Love this place already! These types of bookstores are my favorite! Like how cozy 'n home-y they feel. 'S not all sterile 'n polished like other bookstores 've been too" Her words were spoken in a tone of conviction and it took the load off Harry's shoulders.
She loved this place. The place that Harry had stumbled upon and showed her. Harry was the reason behind her smile and appreciative glaze on her eyes.
"'M glad 'ya like it Darling." His voice was from the core of his chest and ignited the heat that spread over her skin. The nickname once again slipped, but it didn't make him mean it any less. "Maybe we can find a book we can read together." He'd been thinking about asking her the first time he saw her with a book. It could be a makeshift book club- just the two of them- that he could use as an excuse to spend more time with just her. Harry would even take her to the weeping willow tree, book and picnic basket in hand, during the day so they could build that sweet oasis again.
"Really? I-I didn't even know you liked to read" The question or conversation hadn't come up, surprisingly. Y/n had meant to ask him- but partially assumed Harry did read since he brought her here.
Harry shrugged with another boyish grin. Damn that boyish grin and its pair of dimples. "Yeah-" Harry didn't even know he liked to read till Y/n asked. "I would even be open 't reading all that filth 'ya like so much." He jabbed.
A surprised smile inched over her lips and Harry's never been so close to just smashing his lips on hers. "Can't just let 'ya jump into the filth! There's levels 't this H" She laughed, the pink deepening in color.
"What like I need 't have prerequisites before reading smut?"
Y/n shook her head side to side. "Kinda! I mean, can't just let 'ya read-...think of it like learning how 't swim! 'Ya don't just jump into the deep-end. You start in the shallow with floats 'n whatnot" Her tone was in between a constant state of teasing and being totally serious.
"Bloody hell, what are they doing in these books!" He was both serious and amplifying his curiosity. "Are they fucking with tools, guns, 'n goblins?" It was a rhetorical question, one that he was hoping to get a rise out of her.
But when he sees her eyes go a bit spacey, his eyes widened. "Don't think I've actually read one where goblins fuck" Y/n mindlessly reveals, many different plots, scenes, and characters coming to the forefront of her mind. None with goblins. "Yeah can't say I've read a book with goblins having sex" She firmly stated.
There's a pause between the conversation. Harry stared at Y/n as Y/n stared back at Harry. Of the list Harry had stated, he fully expected the goblins to be a yes and everything else would've been a no. How would someone even have sex with a gun or tools? Neither seemed very erotic to think about.
"Wow" The word slipped out breathlessly. "You're amazing"
A snort escaped Y/n before a flood of giggles erupted from her chest. She never would've expected Harry to call her amazing, especially after she'd admitted to reading sex scenes with tools and guns. Y/n expected a lot more questions following her omission. Certainly not Harry giving her starstruck eyes and compliments.
"See, baby-steps. We'll start you off with floaties and lukewarm water, yeah?"
"I may not have read smut with tools and guns, 'n whatnot like 'ya" Harry had a playful tint to his tone. "But I know how 't swim 'n 've watched porn. Surely that meets some requirements"
"Harry!" Y/n squealed at his omission, flushing a dangerous temperature in her sweater.
-
Last night had been a fever dream.
Regardless of being a hermit and constantly yearning to be at her flat, Y/n loved spending time with Harry in the bookstore. It gave spending time at home by herself a run for its money because even then she didn't laugh as much as she had with Harry. Everything that could go right, went right and then some. Harry took Y/n's advice on which book to get- with his established requirements- and they'd bought a copy to start reading together. He'd even bought the two other books that Y/n had decided to take and wouldn't take no for an answer.
They ended the night over a pastry and coffee before it grew later into the night. Lectures were still due tomorrow and Y/n had agreed to study with Libbie again. She couldn't help but wonder how late they would've stayed out if responsibilities weren't restricting them.
Y/n had tucked herself in for the night after Harry had dropped her off. She'd fallen asleep and woken up with the same smile on her face that she bid Harry goodnight with.
It was out of a book. And not a smutty one.
The sun had appeared by the time she approached her usual tree. One of the books Harry had gotten her was already turned to the 100th page and her eyes were skimming every word. Reading was a favorite pass time of hers, but indulging in something that she'd remembered was bought by Harry made it better. She couldn't pinpoint why that was exactly nor could she understand the feelings that were blossoming in the pit of her chest. It was like her blood was surging with caffeine, her body was jittery, a smile wasn't too far behind, and the constant reminder of Harry caused her pulse to skip or stutter. If she didn't know any better, she would've accused Harry of being a witch, plaguing her thoughts and seizing her ability to go on with her day, herself.
But she did know better. And instead, she slipped further and further away into the pages. Her mind was at ease, her heartbeat mellowed out into a steady pace, and her body slumped into the tree trunk. Perhaps she'd been in control a lot more than she wanted to admit.
"Y/n!"
All the relaxation she'd reached was swiped away by the call of her name. She'd flinched and nearly ripped the page she'd thumbed- instead it was crumbled and her fingers immediately tried to smooth it out. The spell was casted and she could feel the effects once again.
"'Ya scared me H!" She kisses her teeth. "What're 'ya doing here? Thought 'ya lecture was due soon?"
"No Pet, it just finished up"
Her eyebrows crunched as she reached for her forgotten phone, seeing the time displayed in bold. How could she have lost track of time? So much time that she needed to hurry and meet with Libbie in their reserved pod like she promised.
"Oh!"
"Y'er enjoying the book that much eh?" Harry had noticed it the second he spotted her. He'd been secretly hoping that she would be reading it or at least carrying it around. He wanted to treat her to a new book that would hopefully become her favorite. Harry wished that she'd think of him every time she revisited it. Or that he would cross her mind when she saw it. Similarly to how she crosses his mind with everything around him.
Y/n nodded, closing the book to look over the cover once more. "Yeah, 'm already 200 pages in. Started it last night over a cuppa befo' bed" She stated with a tender smile. Her admission made Harry's heart picked up and his dimples were printed on his cheeks.
"Good....'m glad y'er enjoying it Darling" His voice was velvety in her ears and she just adored his nicknames. Or maybe it was just the nicknames pointed at her that she adored so much. All these lines were blurring faster by the second, it made it impossible to decipher. "Was thinking we can start-"
"Harry!"
At least it was before the realm was shattered.
The shrill of his name made Harry and Y/n glance in the direction it came from. A ball of energy bounced her way toward the pair, smile reaching her ears, and a rosy blush spread on the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose.
"Harry! I got 'ya text" Bianca had giggled, hugging his waist and snuggling a bit into his torso. She had glued herself to him, arms encircling his hips, and not making any effort to move. Harry had returned the hug, but when he realized she wasn't letting go of him, his arm sat awkwardly around the tops of her shoulders. "You'd mentioned grabbing coffee on campus, but I was thinking we could grab some off campus. I know a spot" It wasn't a question or even a suggestion.
Bianca hadn't left any room for discussion. Whatever conversation they had, it was going to play out the way she wanted, there wasn't room for anything else. Similar to the way she held onto him.
"Oh umm sure okay" Harry sounded unsure of himself.
But whatever tone he used, it still cut into Y/n. How could she'd been stupid enough to forget that Harry had asked for Bianca's number? Harry had said it himself, he was going to message her even after he'd left with Y/n. And she was silly for acting like Harry left with just her. Cause he hadn't. Harry tagged along with Niall and Rhett...for the milkshake he'd said he wanted earlier in the night. Because despite it hiding behind her joke, Harry agreed and it was silly of her to forget that.
Details like that mattered, but they were always the same points she'd forget when daydreaming.
When playing pretend.
"Okay let's go! I remember you saying that you like pistachio and chocolate? They've got amazing croissants, we can split one" Bianca gushed.
Almost like the universe wanted to torture Y/n, she noticed and stared a bit at Harry holding Bianca's hand. The excited lass was pulling him in the opposite direction.
"Wha-okay sure but wait-" Harry rushed, cheeks painted the deepest red he's ever worn. "Hold on a mo'...Y/n! Wanna start the book t'night?" He raised his brows with wide eyes.
"Oh I didn't know you liked to read!" Y/n was already growing tired of her voice. Which wasn't fair to the girl. "What book are you reading?"
"Some book" Why did that hurt Y/n the most? "T'night?" Harry seemed like he was grasping for both patience and an answer.
Y/n swallowed against a hard lump weaseling its way in her throat. "No...'m busy" Y/n wasn't busy, she didn't have plans for the rest of the week actually. But she spit the answer before standing to her full height. "Have fun on your coffee date-" Even though he'd taken her on one just last night. "I've got 't go study with Libbie"
She offered them a wide smile- her teeth biting the inside of her cheek- and took off to the library pods. She ignored the excited squeal that rung from Bianca and just how low her heart had sunk in her body. Well, she tried her best to ignore the pulsing hollowness echoing in her chest, the watering and boiling fire over her eyes, and the venomous voice taunting her with every heartbeat.
A slap in the face. One that she deserved. Y/n knew of all the suitors after Harry, she knew she couldn't be jealous of that. And truth be told, she wasn't. There wasn't a centimeter of burning in her lungs from her chest tightening, the lethal insecurities oozing in, or even her mind comparing herself to someone like Bianca. No there wasn't any of that.
Instead, she could clearly decipher the emptiness in her chest, the rapid blinking over her cloudy vision, and spiteful thought circling through her head as the purest form of self sabotage. Her blood was tainted with pity. Her heart tenderly pounded in its cavity and it was further fueled when her brain repeated his words on loop.
Some book...
Some book.
Some. Book.
The same book they'd scavenged the bookstores shelves and giggled over. A book they'd both thought sounded amazing to get lost in and jab over the smutty scenes. Words on a paper that would be the first she'd experienced with someone else.
Nope, it was just some book.
Just like she was just a friend.
Exactly how she'd forgotten.
Specifically how she was reminded.
-
"Are you okay?"
Why was that such a shit question? Why couldn't Libbie ignore the fact Y/n had been trapped in her thoughts and certainly wasn't listening to her workplace drama. If she wanted to know what was wrong, why not wait till they were away from Niall and Rhett- who Y/n didn't want listening to the answer. Who would poke and prod till they were satisfied with the answer she gave.
And who immediately looked at Y/n once the question was asked.
"Yeah 'm fine"
"Bullshit" Niall was quick to hiss out his response. "What's goin' on wit' 'ya? Y'er somewhere far away"
"Nothing just tired. Stayed up late last night" Again, not a total lie. But really not the truth either.
Rhett narrowed his eyes at her before shaking his head. "Partial truth. Let's try asking a different question. Why did 'ya miss the opportunity 't make fun of Ni pissing on 'ya bath rug?" She really despised Rhett sometimes. Y/n always thought the three of them would be great friends to have if something ever happened to her. Surely, they would lead authority to the right place with how perceptive they could be. But that perceptive eye was a real thorn in her side when she just wanted to ignore the malicious voice snickering in her mind.
Y/n shook her head and shrugged. "Didn't hear the opportunity to bring it up. If I had, I would've" She reassured with wide eyes. "Because the prat still hasn't replaced the rug. Almost slipped the other night getting out the shower. I'll be sure 't send the medical bill 't him when I do" Another attempt to assure them she was okay.
Even though she knew she wasn't.
And it seemed like they knew that too. Right thorns they absolutely were.
Niall, however, couldn't stop the kiss on his front teeth. "Oi, put a shirt on the floor in the meantime!" He was quick to hiss. "This redirected anger doesn't have anything 't do wit' a curly headed lad?" He tilted his head with analyzing eyes.
"No"
The answer was short, quick, and snippy. Which said everything they needed to know. Why? Why didn't Y/n wait a beat longer before answering? Why didn't she keep that spiteful voice in her head? Why did she have to prove Niall's point with just a simple word.
Libbie dropped her pen with a crunched brow. "Just saw 'ya hangin' out befor' me lecture? Surely, nothing could've happened in that short interaction!" She thought, glancing between Y/n, Niall, and Rhett as if they knew something she didn't.
She would be surprised.
"No, nothing happened. 'M fine" Y/n pressed, grabbing her pen just so her fingers could hold something.
"Aish, why's it such a hassle 't get 'ya 't talk?" Rhett shook his head. "C'mon Babe, it'll make 'ya feel better if 'ya just talk 't us. Promise, nothing will leave this pod. Swear it" His fingers crossed his left peck.
Y/n chewed the inside of her cheek. There's no way talking about it would make it better. It would make it worse. She would have to admit to others that she likes Harry, that she threw herself in a one-sided 'relationship'- if she could even label it as such. She would have to hear her own voice speak the words she's been suppressing for so long.
"We already know 'ye like him Love 'n we know he likes you" It was almost like Niall could read her thoughts.
"I don't 'n surely he doesn't either"
Rhett rolled his eyes. "The lad tucked 'ya into bed. If he didn't like you then he would've left 'ya on the couch," He reasoned. "Hell, if he only saw 'ya as a friend, he would've let Niall push 'ye right off!"
"What? Thought 'ye did that"
Both Niall and Rhett shook their heads. "That was all Harry Babes. Mate looked like he was tucking in his most prized possession. Half expected him 't leave a kiss on 'ya forehead." Rhett continued.
She hated what that information did to her stomach. She loathed how her heart sunk further knowing he didn't kiss her forehead goodnight. Even Rhett had done that when he was drunk.
"Probably would've had we not walked into the room" Niall pipes.
Fuck.
"Was just being sweet 't me because I gave him a ride after the party" She fought, a shake of her head as she stared at her notebook.
"The same party he left fo' you," Niall raised his brows. "The both of 'ye would've stayed there all night if you had the chance. C'mon Lovie! You can't actually believe that he doesn't like 'ye when he's practically glued 't you! Always talking 'bout you. Even turning down Bianca"
"Then why would he take her out on a coffee date when he just took me on a date last night!"
"What?"
The three of them had surprised eyes and gapped mouths at Y/n's admission. It made her feel even smaller and like she should've just grabbed her stuff and left. Before all their reasoning and questions got to her like they clearly did.
Rhett scooted closer to her and rubbed the length of her back. "Babe, it's okay. Take a nice, big, slow breath. C'mon, let me see" He demonstrated a deep breath, urging her to follow. Which she did, feeling the tightness getting worse on the surface of her lungs before she blew out the same breath. "Good, again" They repeated this four times with Rhett's large hand rubbing circles on her back.
"What happened when 'ye were with Harry?" Libbie asked, voice as soft as the cashmere shirt she had on.
"Aish, I hate the lot of 'ya" Y/n hissed, closing her eyes before shrugged her shoulders defeatedly. "Harry text me yesterday. Took me 't a bookstore he saw...Said he thought 'bout me when he saw it. So, we went, looked around, 'n he bought me books. Even picked one we would read together" Her skin was on fire and she could feel the heat pooling in a layer of sweat. "We got coffee afterwards 'n just talked fo' hours- felt like if we didn't have lectures t'day then we would've been there all night"
Libbie smiles, nodding encouragingly. "That's cute honey. Nothing wrong with admitting that or even being happy 'bout it. Sounds like the perfect date" She reassures, her eyes glistening.
"Don't know if it was an actual date 't be fair" Y/n spit out, still trying to armor her own feelings. "It couldn't have been. But I was reading one of the books he bought me when he came up 't me. Asked if I was enjoying the book and if we could start our book tonight...then Bianca showed up"
Her tone was the most viperish it'd been. Which-again- wasn't fair because it wasn't Bianca's fault. Harry had shown her interested, invited her out for coffee, and she was excited. Y/n just hated herself for playing pretend for far too long.
"How'd she know where Harry was?" Niall questioned.
Y/n shrugged. "'M assuming Harry text her. She said she'd gotten his message. And instead of going for coffee on campus, she knew of a good one off of campus. Even said they had his favorite, some pistachio and chocolate croissant or whatnot. He even agreed 't split one wit' her"
Rhett's hand had doubled its efforts in rubbing the tension from her back.
"And on top of that! The book we chose- together- was now just some book!" She scoffed, pissed off as if she hadn't been brewing over it for an hour already. "Can 'ya believe that! Some book! Why couldn't he tell Bianca it was the best book in the damn bookstore! Why couldn't he say that those pistachio-chocolate croissants were just some croissants"
Okay, that part was equally petty and jealousy speaking. She couldn't help herself.
Petty or not, her friends giggled at her little rant. But everyone shook their heads like they agreed and understood. "Course they are. Pistachios aren't even good, 's the perfect way 't ruin chocolate. Stupid of her 't even suggest they would be good" Libbie decided- a firm head nod in her direction.
"So are you g'na read wit' him t'night?" Rhett asked.
Y/n shook her head.
"Good, we can stay in. We can order burritos, stay in, and binge watch whatever show 'ye want"
Which is something she always desired, especially on the night she has to go out with Niall, play video games with Rhett, or study with Libbie.
But now it was different...
-
The week had been torturous.
Dodging Harry had felt never ending, but by Friday it seemed like he'd gotten the message. She never realized just how much time they spent together and what his absence would mean. It was weird- in the sense that it felt like there was a big hole in her days. Despite only spending a few months together, Harry's absence was noticeable -for lack of a better word.
Even when Y/n had been suffocating with Libbie, Niall, and Rhett. Who had been smothering her, but she knew they meant well. So, she took their company with open arms and enjoyed doing what she enjoyed the most. Being locked in her apartment, ordering take-out, and just shooting shit. She never realized how much she missed out on their daily lives. Like Rhett's dates with a special little lass, Niall's golf club he built, or even Libbie's many different achievements with labs and pilates.
Friday night they decided going out for dinner and a few drinks would be best before- ultimately-they pitched in for a bottle and guzzled from said bottle afterwards. A killer headache was waiting for everyone the next morning.
By now it was Saturday night.
Y/n was left to her own devices and Bourbon. The fat orange cat was warming her feet as her hands cradled a bowl of soup. Soup from a can she'd thrown on the stove and couldn't be bothered to heat up for longer than two minutes.
A true crime documentary echoed in the background as she scrolled mindlessly over her phone. Seeing the many different book reviews and switching between her social media and notepad- writing down a never-ending TBR list.
"Haven't read a professor and student book in'a while," She spoke to the cat- who blinked slowly at her. "'S got paranormal 'n smut...bit of a dark academia vibe 't it. 'N he's morally grey" She noted, switching over to her online delivery app and putting it in the cart.
The fur ball meowed loudly at her, like he'd known she was on that specific app.
"Need more treats huh?" She hummed, remembering the heart shattering meow he'd let out when Rhett had fed him his last treat. "Fine, but 'ye only getting two from now on....'em vets are g'na yell at me if 'ye get any bigger"
Before Y/n could find the treats she normally buys for Bourbon, her screen is taken over by two buttons and Harry's name. Her heart sunk to the floor and a cold sweat broke out on her skin. Y/n couldn't believe the complete yearning that took over her heart nor the hurt that muddled her brain. The battle of forces- trying to decipher what her next move was. Her mind screamed at her to ignore the call. If she wanted to protect herself and ignore the feelings that had been stewing in her system all week, she needed to let the phone ring. But her heart wanted relief. It wanted to hear Harry's voice and feel the lightest its ever felt. So she needed to answer the phone if she were to give into her desires.
The green button granted her a chance.
The red button solidified her decision.
-
Harry needed to sober up and get a fucking grip.
He'd been swimming in his thoughts all week and now it was accompanied by alcohol. He should've thought about this, like actually put some thought into the whole situation. Instead, he was too wrapped up in her oasis- doing everything he could to stay and revel in it, but fucked it up in the process. If he had even a semblance of a chance to make this up, he needs to practice those boundaries.
Y/n had been aces at them.
But those boundaries also got in the way of her desires. That was clear from the beginning. Her self discipline was so admirable. Everything about her was. Harry had been smitten from the start.
And he'd gone a fucked it up.
"Llo?"
Or maybe there was a chance after all?
"Y/n? Hi"
If he didn't spit something out then he's sure he would fuck it all up. Maybe even worse this time.
"Hi" It was small, soft, and he wanted more. Harry wanted her to yap his ear off till his ears couldn't work anymore. He wanted her there, right now.
"I wanna-"
"Oi Harry!" The shout of his name made him jump. Trent had slapped his shoulder- a lot harder than Harry liked- and pushed a red cup to his chest. The red jungle juice splashed over the edge, coated Trent's hand, and the center of Harry's shirt. "Noticed 'ye needed a refill! Go on! Have a swig!" He encouraged.
Harry didn't want it. "Oh 'm actually on the phone-"
"'Ye can drink 'n chat!" Trent chuckles, hand again slapping his shoulder. "Heard from Holly that 'ye went 'n broke her friend's heart. What's that 'bout?"
Holly had been here? If Holly was here, then Bianca had to be too. Harry needed to leave, now. "Nothing, 've got 't go-" But it didn't matter what Harry said.
"Thinking 'bout leaving already Styles?" Garrett asked with his own red cup in his hand. "'S not even late. C'mon stay fo' awhile! G'na miss the whole party" He insists.
Boundaries Harry, boundaries!
"No thank you...calling me girlfriend-"
"Don't let the missus ruin 'ya night" Trent threw his head back. "Just tell her 'ya went home or whatnot. Garrett 'n I will vouch for 'ya. Tell her 'ye left at nine sharp"
Bloody hell, this wasn't going to be easy.
"Okay...Yeah sure, I'll tell her that now...give me a mo'" He lied, pushing past them to the front door. "Y/n? Are 'ya still there?"
"'M here...where are 'ya at? I'll come get 'ya"
"Really?"
"Yes, already in the car"
"Thank you Darling....miss you. Miss you so much. Was waiting at our tree 'n was shattered 't pieces when 'ye never came. Understand that I kinda fucked up, but swear 's not what it seems like! Just wanted 't let her down easily 'n wanted 't read our book. Still wanna read our book, wanna learn 'bout all 'em smutty scenes that 'ye like 't read or the little worlds they transport you too! 'N I miss being 'round 'ye, it's been hell wit-"
"Harry!" Her voice had stopped his rambling. "Button, can't see me any sooner when I don't know where 't go. Can 'ye tell me where 'ya are Love?" Y/n's voice noticeably softened and Harry could even hear a bit of a smile in her tone.
"Yeah...yeah I can cause I just wanna see 'ya 'n hug 'ya," He promises, hand dropping the cup he hadn't realized he was holding. "'M down Campus drive. The last house with them white poles 'n stupid flags of shapes"
Y/n giggled...she actually giggled at Harry. Which had to meant he was making progress.
"Can't believe 'ye went 't a frat house 't party" She hummed amused.
"Had 't drink me sorrows away...thought I wouldn't be able 't talk 't you anymore" The alcohol had him loose lipped, but Harry would admit this to Y/n if he was stone cold sober. He just needed to be given the chance.
But there's a pause over the phone. One long enough that he took the screen off his cheek, but still saw she was on the other line. "Nonsense Button," She sighed delicately. "Go 'n wait in the bathroom or somewhat. Don't want those frat bastards 't pressure 'ya into drinking. I'll be there in a mo'"
Harry agreed and did as told when the phone call ended. He swayed his way back inside, Garrett and Trent yapping where he'd left them. "Look who's back! Where'd 'ya drink go!" Trent pointed to his empty hand but red stain still on his shirt.
"Oh ummm, drank it already" He spite out, despite vividly remembering he dropped it on the porch.
"Let's get 'ya a refill!" He began pushing Harry's shoulder toward the large doorway leading to the kitchen.
"Wait, gotta wee"
"Go 't me loo upstairs. 'Ye g'an wait fo' ages down here," Trent offered, pointing to the stairs on the other side of the house. "Up 'em stairs, 't the right, fifth door" He directed, more of his own drink spilling on the floor and over his hand. "Hurry, we're all g'na take shots! 'N 'ya better be down here fo' 'em! Or else I'll drag 'ya down myself!" He threatened.
Harry knew he would hold true to his threat too.
Shuffling through the crowd made him hot and sticky. Lots of unheard 'excuse me's' and disgruntled grunts when he'd stepped on someones foot, knocked into someone's shoulder, or even the body he'd rammed into when turning to the right hallway like Trent told him too.
"Sorry...didn't see 'ya sorry. 'M sorry" He apologized with a slur to his words.
"Harry?"
Bianca was flicking her hand at her side. He'd only noticed then that her cup was crumpled on the ground and the juice had covered up her forearm.
"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean 't run into 'ya..." He didn't know what to do. Harry was swimming in alcohol, feeling thirsty, and desperate to see Y/n. "Need the loo...umm how are you?" He also had a rambling problem when he was intoxicated.
"Just came from the loo, but now 'm g'na have 't go back 't wash me hands" She hissed.
Turning on her heel, walking down the hall, to the fifth door with a little poster on the door. With slow, unsure, steps, Harry followed her into Trent's room with an attached bathroom. He watched as she went to his bathroom, turned on the lights, and washed away the residue of the juice.
Part of him prayed Y/n would get here soon. He didn't want to be alone with Bianca, but he didn't want to be out there in the crowd even more. He hated how he just shifted side to side on his foot, looking at Bianca and then around Trent's room.
When the water had shut off, Bianca let out a little scoff from her nose. She had been watching him through the mirror. Part of her had hoped he followed her into the room to make a move on her. Thinking maybe he'd changed his mind or at least wanted to test out just kissing her. If he'd kissed her, she would let him, and see if maybe things would progress from there.
Harry didn't.
"Geez, you're drunk" She shook her head, twisting to face him while drying her arm. "Why'd 'ye follow me in here?" Bianca knew he'd tell the truth. Especially if he was drunk.
"Oh, I didn't" He stated. "Trent said I could use his bathroom...'m waiting fo' Y/n"
Bianca rolled her eyes, throwing the towel to her side a bit peeved. "Figures," She muttered. "Don't know why 'ye like her so much. She's just some weird little virgin who hates parties but still goes out to them just to read or whatnot"
Harry didn't like what Bianca was saying nor the tone she took while saying it. "No she's not. I like a lot 'bout her. She's protective and caring. Doesn't care what anyone thinks...she so special 't listen to. She's got this little light that only shines once 'ye get 't know her" Harry's own admiring smile widened across his face. His heart picked up speed and his head grew even more spacey.
"She won't know a thing 'bout pleasing you" Bianca argued, taking a daring step forward.
But it went unnoticed by Harry. "That's not true...she already does just by telling me 'bout the books she's read. 'N letting me read wit' her. Don't think I could ever please her the way reading does... definitely have competition there" He noted, more-so for himself.
Her jaw tightened and she wanted to to scream. "Then why ask fo' my number? Why lead me on? I mean, you had to have liked me at some point" She pressed.
His throat bobbed before the alcohol took control. "No...went 't the party fo' Y/n. Oliver had dragged me there too because he likes Holly. I only got 'ya number so I could explain my feelings for you...which I did. Told you, I didn't mean 't lead you on. I'm sorry that I did" Harry felt like shit. Really, he did. He knows what it's like being devoted to someone when they're devoted to someone else.
Being everything but first option, priority, etc, hurt.
In all aspects.
"Did you ever want to kiss me? At least?" They were closer than they started. Bianca had marched up to him, her heaving chest just inches away from his steady one.
"No"
The answer fell from his lips as the door opened.
Harry's head was almost spinning from how fast he turned to see their visitor. Y/n stood in a hoodie and yoga pants. Her hair mused and messed with and lips formed in a pout with a layer of chapstick.
"Am I interrupting?" Her eyes shifted from Bianca to Harry.
Bianca huffed annoyed. "Nope, he's all yours. Thanks for nothing Harry" She growled, stomping out of the room, leaving Y/n with Harry.
Her eyebrows raised and her eyes were questioning him. But he didn't give her any explanation. Instead, he marched up to her and threw himself in her chest. Nuzzling into her hoodie like she'd given him an invitation.
"I'm tired" His voice was muffled as he buried his face in her throat. Body wrapped around her like a vine, she was overheating in more ways than one but she couldn't tell him to move. She wanted him close enough that she could continue to feel his heartbeat. Arms that strong should feel suffocating with how he wound them around her body and kept her to his chest, but she would happily drown in him if it meant keeping him right in this place.
He was just better at speaking those desires out loud.
"I just want you to be with me all the time. As much as I love coming home to you...I don't want to have to keep leaving you behind. Is that too clingy of me to say?"
Y/n had no idea what he meant but understood the feelings behind his rambling. At least she thought she did. He was drunk after all.
"No 's not clingy Button" She spoke tenderly, fingers brushing his hair back as he nestled deeper into her throat. "Wanna be with you all the time too...missed 'ya an awful lot this week" Y/n reassured.
If Harry had the ability to purr, he's sure as hell he would. "Missed 'ya more Petal. Missed you so much, won't even believe me if I could describe how much I missed you. Wanted 't tell 'ya all 'bout a new bookshelf I wanna buy, 'n how I saw these matching sweaters that would look right cute on us, oh! Oh! And 'bout-"
Harry was cut off by her giggle, His ear right over the sound that he just wanted to coo in delight. "Still can tell me all 'bout that...but not here. Smells like dirty socks 'n alcohol" She jabs.
"Think the alcohol might be me" He pulled away, showing his ruined shirt with the jungle juice stain.
Y/n glanced over the stain. "Got a change of clothes fo' 'ya....can take a shower at my place. Let's just get the fuck outta here"
With no other protesting on his end, Harry allowed Y/n to pull him downstairs. They were about to leave when Trent had hollered Harry's name.
"C'mon the nights still young! Stay 'n have a shot! She can even stay 'n have a few wit' us" He promised, handing his own drink to Harry.
"Not interested" Y/n dismissively stated.
Trent lifted his lip in disgust. It seemed like not a lot of people turned him down for a drink. "Then let the lad stay fo' himself. Don't need 't be a nag and ruin his night" He spit.
"Not ruining anyone's night besides yours, you twat. Fuck off, we're going home"
-
Being with Y/n equally sobered him up and gave him a high.
When she offered Harry her shower, he lathered himself up in her body wash and strawberry shampoo. Loving that he smelled just like her, like he'd been marked hers and hers only. Harry was even thrilled to be bundled up in her clothes- an assortment of men's t-shirts and sweats that she loved sleeping in. Not only did he smell like her, he was wrapped in her clothes, and was getting closer to her haven.
Harry was home.
After gathering his things, he exited the bathroom and wondered into the living room. Y/n was lying down, eyes trained on the telly, and Bubs lying in her chest. Harry wants to be in her arms, watching the telly with her.
"All done?" Y/n questioned.
Harry nodded, keeping his ball of clothes at his side.
"Lemme take those, I'll throw 'em in the wash," Y/n stood- the cat meowing his protest, but jumping to the other side of the couch. "Have some meds on the counter fo' 'ya. Go on, I'll warm up some soup or somewhat" She promises before disappearing to the other room.
Under her instructions, Harry when to the kitchen, grabbing the pills, and drinking all the water poured in a cup for him. With a wet gasp, his chest heaved a bit as he was able to catch his breath. He missed this. He missed her.
As Y/n walked into the kitchen, Harry was rubbing his eye with his knuckle. His face looking pouty as if she'd just woken him up from his nap and he was trying not to fall back asleep. His hair was soft and bits of it began drying. Y/n wondered if Harry was always a drunk cuddle or if it was just the circumstances that made him extra soft.
He watched as she walked around the kitchen, pulling various things from the cabinets, fitting a pot and pan on the stove, and occasionally giving Harry a glance. "'M sorry fo' calling 'ya while I was drunk" Harry murmured.
"Why're 'ya sorry?" She genuinely asked.
"Cos, I had been drinking 'n I let the alcohol get the best of me," He reasoned. "It's just...I wanted 't call 'ya before I started drinking- had been wanting 't talk 't 'ya since Bianca came up 't us at our tree. Cos I swear, it's not what 'ya think. I didn't ask her out...well I mean I did but not like that" His words and thoughts were stumbling over one another. Harry couldn't blame this solely on the alcohol, that effect had been dissipating since he walked into Trent's room with Bianca.
With the stove flicked on, Y/n turned to look at his emerald gems. "Then what was it like?" She asked, her voice fragile. It made Harry's heart seize and he felt like he'd been thrown in an ice bath.
"I-I got her number cos I wanted to explain why I disappeared....that I was with you because I like 'ya. Would've told her at the party, but I was afraid 'ye leave wit' out me 'n well, I didn't wanna ruin her time at the party" He swears, palms rubbing the length of his thighs."S-So I text her 't meet me fo' coffee...thought it would be best 't tell her in person rather than over the phone. Felt like I owed her that much...but then it turned into something it wasn't!"
Y/n was spinning. She missed Harry loads, but that didn't stop the rattling hurt coursing through her. In an attempt to ground herself, she picked up a can of soup- heating that up- and began making grilled cheese for the both of them. "Well, what was it?" She asked, encouraging him that she was listening.
Harry sighed, running his hands through his locks that were drying to his forehead. "Ummm a scheduled breakup 't sum it up," Harry shrugged his shoulders. "But she ended up taking me to this coffee shop- the croissants weren't very good- 'n she yapped my ear off. When I had finally got the chance 't explain that I wasn't tryin' 't woo her- I was trying 't woo you- she got up in arms 'bout it. Said I was rotten fo' leading her on 'n that if I didn't wanna woo her, then I shouldn't have asked her out...Didn't think I asked her out, but I guess I could see the misconception" Another red color flooded his cheeks.
She hated how much lighter this made her feel. She shouldn't take pleasure in hearing that Bianca was turned down. Y/n shouldn't reframe it as Harry left Bianca for her. It wasn't right...but she would be lying if she said it didn't make her heart stutter.
Goodness, she needed to get a grip!
"So when 'ye took me out, you didn't ask me out?"
Again, the question was abrupt. Y/n hadn't meant to actually ask it- instead it was a passing thought as she was trying to hurt her own feelings. It made it easier to ground herself and not take so much enjoyment out of Harry's confession.
Especially when the same could be said about their night out.
"Course I asked 'ye out Darling" Harry confessed. "Had been thinking 'bout you when I saw the bookstore, was thinking of more ways 't hangout wit' 'ya when I said let's read a book together, was even thinking 'bout you during my coffee outing with Bianca!"
Now she was sure her skin was painted the reddest color she'd ever worn. The fires from his praise licked her skin and she could even feel the clamminess coat the top layer. "Oh, okay...good. I-I mean not good that you were thinking 'bout me when 'ye were wit' Bianca...but still umm good" Her brain was muddled with emotions she kept trying to sort through.
Sure this was all very reassuring and it made the hurt feelings slowly dwindle, but now she was trying to figure out what this meant. Did this mean they would go back to normal? Or would they start dating and their normal look completely different?
"I-I didn't mean 't hurt 'ya. Just thought I was doing what was right by asking Bianca 't coffee so I could tell her in person" Harry confesses with hooded eyes.
"'Course you were doing it right Handsome," Her heart stuttered in her chest. "That's very kind of you. Yeah, me feelings were hurt 'n I was stunned 't see you go out wit' Bianca after our date the night before. But I see where you're coming from" She soothes, the sizzling of the pan echoing over her soft voice.
She could hear Harry walk over to her before she felt his warmth radiating off of him, onto her back. His large arms enclosed around her waist, his chest flushed with her back, and nose nuzzling into her neck. ""M sorry I hurt 'ya feelings. Wasn't my intentions. Should've told 'ya before Bianca came up. I'll remember that if there's a next time"
Harry was just so soft. Everything about their situation oozed domestic and Y/n felt like she was in her element. She was happy flipping both of their grilled cheese, she reveled in the warm embrace Harry had, and she had everything she needed.
"What were you 'n Bianca talking 'bout before I came into Trent's room?" It was another mindless thought that popped into her head. She wasn't trying to dig for a 'gotcha' moment. "She looked pretty irate wit' you" She admitted.
A puff of warm air escaped his nose and traveled down the exposed skin of her throat. "She's still upset that I led her on...ehhh I think she misinterpreted me asking for her number and asking her 't coffee. I-I think that was my fault though" He sighs, shaking his head, rubbing his cheek on her shoulder. "She asked if I at least wanted 't kiss her, at some point or another...told her no"
Y/n let out a surprised gasp. "Harry! 'Ye did not!" She choked. Which only earned a confirming nod from the lad glued to her back. "Well now I know why she stormed off...can't blame her. Surely that didn't feel good"
"Lying 't her would've been worse...she could've kissed me if I lied and said yes" Harry grumbles. "Didn't wanna kiss her, just wanna kiss you. Just want you"
It was almost impossible to go ridge or tense in his arms. His warmth coaxed her to a near sleepy state, but his words had her heart hammered against her chest. For a brief moment, she wondered if he could hear or feel her rapid pulse from how deeply he was nuzzled against her. If he did, he paid no mind to it.
And then she acted on impulse.
Twisting on her heel, she pushed Harry till his bum was at the edge of the counter behind them. Now being chest to chest, Y/n rises on her tippy toes- keeping a steadying hand on his chest- and pushes their lips together. Harry's lips were equal parts plushy and warm- both elements drawing her deeper. His hands were firm reminders that this was real, especially with how desperately they grasped her skin. One hand moving from her jaw to the back of her neck, directing her in for another kiss. His other pushing her closer to him on her lower back.
Y/n couldn't stop her own hands from wondering. Her fingers ventured into his hair while her other hand tugging his shirt- as if to get him closer. She had spent the week away from him, now it was time to catch up on some much needed time together. Despite how clingy that sounded. Y/n made up her mind, and now she wasn't going to lose it.
Harry's tongue poked out- swiping the bottom of her lip- while he tugs her hair a bit. A pleased hum escapes her mouth before she pushes against his lips. She didn't want a breath, she wanted to keep kissing him.
"Greedy fo' my kisses?" Harry's voice dripped in ecstasy and Y/n was addicted instantly.
"Yes" she answered honestly.
"Hmmm, did 'ya smutty books tell 'ya, you would be?" He teases, smashing their lips together before she utter a response.
That is till a smoky scent hit their noses.
"Fuck!" Y/n gasps, turning in her hazy senses, to find two burned grilled cheese. Luckily the soup wasn't in the same state or else she wouldn't have anything to feed Harry. "Oi, 'ye almost made me burn the flat down!" She mocks, flicking the burned sandwiches in the sink and running cold water on them before tossing them in the trash.
Harry's mouth fell open. "What! Me!" His hand pointed to his chest. "Y'er the one who got that hot little mouth on me!" He argued playfully.
"Y'er the one that wanted my hot little mouth"
"Yes, 'n I still do" He grabbed her waist and urged her to turn around. Smiling in victory as she complied and giving her a longer kiss as a reward.
When they broke, their eyes explored one another's face. "C'mon, let's eat 'n then we can go 't bed" She beams.
"Can we kiss some more?" Harry shyly asks.
"Dunno, sounds a lot like 'ye suggesting a walk in the woods" She taunts, but pushes another plushy kiss to his lips. "Yes we can Handsome, c'mon"
CW: angst, friends with benefits, breakup, miscommunication, situationship
Summary: Y/N meets Harry at a coffee shop to discuss their relationship after Harry went ghost.
Thank you so much @jarofstyles for including me in this wonderful writing challenge! It’s been a long time since I’ve consistently written but it’s given me so much joy already! I am happy to be apart of this challenge and appreciate all the constructive criticism and feedback! I hope to continue to improve my writing skills 🤍 I hope you can feel the heartbreak as you read.
Her hands trembled as she pushed the door open to the café. Her eyes immediately scanned the room and landed on his short, chestnut colored hair. It was different than when she had seen him last. For a second, she wondered if that was Harry. On cue, Harry turned his front towards her, offered a tight smile and a small wave. She walked over to the quiet corner, making her way through the crowded breakfast establishment. The scent of coffee beans and sweet pastries filled quiet space. Soft jazz music echoed through the room.
He wants this to be over, I can feel it.
Her mind began to race once her body sat down in the wooden chair, directly across from Harry.
“Harry, hi,” she said gently, offered a polite smile. “You cut your hair,” surprise filled her voice.
“S’not much really. Just needed a bit of a change,” he said simply. His accent was more pronounced in the morning air. She watched as he shifted in his seat, ran his fingers through his hair. For a split second, the memory of them tangled in bed together resurfaced. Even now, she could feel the weight of him against her and the euphoria that followed shortly after.
“Do—would you like to order? I got you some coffee but wasn’t sure what you were thinking for food.” His voice was calm and steady, as if this was a normal date.
“Uhm, think I’ll just stick with coffee for now.” She watched as he put the menu back into the metal holder with quiet urgency. Her stomach began to turn, anxiety ripped through her as she met his jade colored, careful gaze. Both of them just looked at each other for a few seconds before Harry spoke up.
“I—I wanted to reach out before but...” He trailed off as the waiter delivered their mugs. He quietly thanked them and directed his attention back to her.
“But you’ve been busy?” Her voice was weak as she spoke, her fingers nervously traced the rim of the steaming mug. A small chuckle, devoid of any humor, escaped her. “You could’ve called, Harry,” she pleaded.
A beat of silence fell between them. “I should’ve called. It’s not that I don’t care. I care... maybe too much,” he whispered, letting out an audible sigh that seemed to deflate his shoulders even more.
“And you thought that meant you needed to go across the world and vanish for five weeks after we spent every waking second together, completely obsessed with each other?” The words came out bitter.
“Just needed a bit of space to think...” he said, his voice hoarse as he stared down at the table.
“And you couldn’t communicate that with me before?”
“I’m shit at this. At being in... this.”
He couldn’t even name it. What were they? Friends once, sure. Then lovers in private, and now? Just two strangers.
She watched as he began to drift away, already distancing himself from the conversation. His bright gaze seem to darken slightly as his face scrunched up in disapproval. The guilt began to eat away at him she continued to confront his distance.
“Why didn’t you just —,” Y/N started but got cut off by his own voice.
Harry ran his fingers through his hair again, more frustrated. “I need air.” He stood abruptly, moving past the morning coffee rush to the entrance door.
She followed him a few seconds later, weaved through the coffee shop and pushed the heavy door open. Her eyes dropped to Harry sitting on a bench out front. He had his head in his hands, looked as if he’d lost someone important.
“You’ve been a really good friend,” he started, his voice was clear and firm as if he read from a script as he stood.
“Is that really all I am to you?” The hurt was obvious in her voice, the bob of her throat visible as she swallowed the lump that tried to choke her. It felt hard to breathe seeing him look at her, hands fisted at his side. “Is that what you’ve reduced our time together to?”
“That’s all you’re letting this be.” His response was quiet, hesitant as he stood across from her. The sidewalk was empty, the breeze cold, but not cold enough for her to be shivering the way she was. “You said this was all it could be, and I’ve been trying not to get my hopes up. But if you...” The pause was followed by a quiet sigh, a hand carding through his hair. Thinking. Harry was always thinking. For a man who was so quiet, she had never met someone who thought so loudly. “If you wanted more, I want to know. I want to know everything you think about.”
“‘Course I do. I want more! It’s a bit... complicated right now. The album, press releases, and other priorities...”
“Oh, so I’m not a priority to you?” She nodded her head in confirmation, sitting with the admission.
“That’s not what I said,” he told her quickly. “Just— Y/N, you deserve a proper relationship and I can’t give you that right now.”
“Probably should’ve said that before we had sex,” she whispered, arms crossed as her body began distancing itself from him. Felt incredibly more vulnerable now than when they shared a bed together.
“You're right. I should've just been transparent from the start. It’s not always easy though, is it? We had something…” He said in reflection. His words seemed to contradict themselves. Torn between wanting more with her and being aware of how much he could handle while the noise got loud.
“Guess not.” The conversation felt final. After a beat of silence, some people passing by on the pavement pulled her back to reality.
“I hope it goes well for you—the album and all that,” she said, meeting his emerald-green eyes.
"Thank you. Take care of yourself, will you?" His voice offered the same warmth she had been familiar with, nodded back in response. A wave of guilt passed over him, but Harry gave a brief, tight smile before walking away.
As she watched him go, she couldn’t help but wonder if his heart just broke as much as hers did.
