it’s enough to make a girl blush

ugh. Elevator Meet-Cute “The true lover of the dimples” - Sophie (@cherryjuiceblues) Pillow hugger. Overthinker. I'm working on it. 29 | she/her | US

[zaiinab]

he’s literally watching himself on the screen he’s so sick

[eveningepiphany]

no because it’s what’s possibly running through his head while doing this that has me spiralling

[velvetballaspark]

Omg hiiiiiiii your elevator story was the cutest welcome back

hi baby!! thank you for saying hi and for the lovely compliment on my silly little story 🥹 i’ve had a part two started for a bit now, but it’s been really hard to get myself to finish with my current state of mind, but i really am so flattered that you still remember me and i hope i can give you something else in the future xx

[velvetballaspark]

uh this feels so strange because i’m sure no one cares but erm… hello. i know it’s been a while since i’ve posted anything. been going through some real… tough changes in my life. but i want to get back out there again. i want to say hello. sometimes it feels like that first toe-tip is the hardest so… hello.

[stylesnews]

Yearly dose of Harry and Bell - posted 31/01

[velvetballaspark]

I love your elevator story 🥰 please will there be a part 2? (3?4?5?...)

Thank you so much 🥹 it means the absolute world to me. I will do my very best to give you a part 2 but I’m a little hesitant it won’t live up to the first part! But that could change! I’m sorry it’s not a super clear answer, I’m just still very new to posting. But I appreciate you more than you know<3 xx

[watchmegetobsessed]

PLEASE SHARE UR TBR I NEED SOME INSPO

Btw LY GORGEOUS

oooh there are sooo many bc i suck at reading lol, here are the first five that came up

flower by @finelinefae

elevator meet-cute by @velvetballaspark

next door neighbors by @gurugirl

can we start over by also gurugirl

illicit by @jarofstyles

[velvetballaspark]

This is nucking futs I can’t believe I’m on a list with these people

[velvetballaspark]

And on your list of TBR 🫨

[watchmegetobsessed]

PLEASE SHARE UR TBR I NEED SOME INSPO

Btw LY GORGEOUS

oooh there are sooo many bc i suck at reading lol, here are the first five that came up

flower by @finelinefae

elevator meet-cute by @velvetballaspark

next door neighbors by @gurugirl

can we start over by also gurugirl

illicit by @jarofstyles

[velvetballaspark]

This is nucking futs I can’t believe I’m on a list with these people

[velvetballaspark]

haven’t stopped thinking about elevator meet cute since feb 2nd thank you for your work 😩

Stop. It. You. Are. So. Cute. SQUEEEEE.

I actually did start writing a lil something for a part two but I have another story that I’ve been working on for a hot minute as well that I’m determined to finish the story for. Anyhoo. I’m still nervous about posting. Not that you asked for any of that information. The traumatized urge to over explain myself.

I’m so flattered and just preening over the fact that you haven’t forgotten about it 🥺 if I had a tail it would be wagging madly. You made my day. Truly. Thank you 🥹

[keepdrivingkisses]

tl going feral. I MISSED THIS

[sykostyles]

let you love me 1.1

wc: 4.5k

summary: summary: in which y/n is a 26 year old bakery owner and she can't quite get this whole "love" thing right; settling on finding solace in being alone. One day, Jackson Cole: an egotistical, but oh so charismatic professional quarterback comes along and swears he can change her mind.. and for a while he does. nearly two years of breaking down her walls.. but they seem to argue about one thing a lot. y/n's "negativity". she swears she's not trying ro be a pessimist.. it just works out better for her if she keeps her expectations low. But what happens when she meets a handsome stranger, who wants nothing more than to see her smile? Will she push everything away again or will she finally accept the love she deserves? or ; tldr sunshine! harry x grumpy! afab reader part one

a/n: welcome to part 2! I thought I would be done with this in two parts but the words just keep coming out of my brain. so there will be one more part to this! (and its already been started!)

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART ONE!! I can't believe this many people are interested in my brain child. I hope you all enjoy this part as well!

cw: this story contains suggestive and explicit language, minor descriptions of violence, and verbal abuse. please do not continue if these topics upset you!

Not much has changed in the apartment above the bakery, a good bit of your belongings remained here after you moved in with Jackson. You were thrilled when the gentleman who sold you the business told you it included the unit upstairs. “How perfect?” you thought. Slowly but surely you’d ended your lease on your previous place and made the arrangements to live above the bakery. You spent all of your time there anyways.

The last time you were here flashed through your brain and made you grimace. Images of wet lips, clashing teeth.. hands exploring curves.. All flashing in your mind. You’d been out with Jackson for your anniversary and neither of you could wait until you got back to your shared apartment, so a bit of a pit stop was made. But having those thoughts of Jackson at this moment only make you want to throw up the sweets you’d tested earlier.

Peeling your clothes from your body, you make your way into the shower and the spiraling thoughts ensue. Why am I like this? Why can’t I be loved the way I am? Is it actually me? Am I really the problem? Why? Why? WHY?? Sliding down the tile wall, your knees come to your chest and you just sob.

Twenty minutes turn into an hour, into an hour and a half and then nearly two hours. You’d been in there so long you didn't even realize the water had turned ice cold. You were numb to everything. 

A knock on your door startles you out of your stupor. Quickly, you shut the shower off and grabbed a towel. “Nobody even knows I'm here,” you think to yourself, making your way to the door. Glancing through the peephole you see your best friend, Carly, looking rather distressed.

“Y/N I know you’re in there.” No, you don’t.. “Your car is outside.” No, it’s not.. “I can see the shadows of your feet at the bottom of the door.” No, you can’t.. “Y/N, open the door. Jackson said you took off when I came looking for you.” No, I don't want anyone to see me like this. “I know you can hear me, don’t make me call in a wellness check. You know I will.” Memories of officers knocking down your door at 3 am when you wouldn’t answer Carly's “are you alive?” messages flashed in your brain.

Your hands shoot up and unlock the deadbolt, swiftly opening the door for your friend to step inside, closing the door with a click behind her.

She turns to look at you, taking in all of your features, Severely swollen eyes, tear stained cheeks, and the frown weighing on your lips.

“I’ll kill him.” She says, turning towards the door. “No!” you object, reaching out to grab her arm. “Please, d-don’t leave.” You say, demeanor crumbling. Your legs begin to shake as you start to cave. Carly reaches out with both hands, stabilizing your arms. “Woah, okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.” she says as she guides you both to the floor, pulling you to rest on her front. “Everything will be okay.” she says. Will it? You think to yourself.

Carly was someone you met in your first year in college. Now she's a 27 year old journalist. Originally she was your freshman year dorm mate. It was instant friendship. I mean instant. You would have thought your first interaction was two friends meeting up again after not seeing each other for a while. Accompanying each other to frat parties, skipping classes together, what have you. Where one was, the other wasn’t too far behind. She helped you get over some of the darkest times of your life. 

Losing both of your parents at the age of 20 isn’t something anyone should ever have to deal with, but having Carly by your side made it a little easier. She also didn’t judge, or object when you decided to drop out of college your junior year after their passing. And when the opportunity came up for you to buy the bakery, she knew owning it was your all time dream so.. she handed you a check for 5k.. saying it was her way of investing in your passions. Granted, the bakery wasn’t located on the Amalfi coast in Italy, but your shop where you’re at would have to do for now. You were grateful for her to say the least.

Jackson? Hated her. She tried to make you see your worth. Carly? Also not a big fan of Jackson. “Ugh a J name? Have I taught you nothing?” She’d joked with you when you told her about him. Even after you’d told her about his constant attention and nice gestures, she still wasn’t convinced. “They all just have that type.” she’d started, making you roll your eyes. “AND he’s a professional football player? Y/N!”

“I finally want to give a guy a chance again, and this is your reaction?” 

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go for it, I'm saying to be careful. These guys all have a reputation.”

“Carls, I swear it feels like he’s different. You don’t see the way he looks at me.”

“Babe, just promise me you’ll be careful, okay? I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

Famous last words.

After half an hour of Carly consoling you on the floor against your apartment door, she peers down at you, noticing your sniffles had quieted. You’re staring off into space while your thoughts just race.

“Hey, I love you and all but my legs are seriously starting to cramp.” She says, breaking the silence. You chuckle softly, being broken out of your haze. “Sorry,” you mumble, pulling yourself to your feet slowly.

“You go get dressed, I’m going to make you a cup of coffee.”

“You don-” “Ah ah ah, go.” She says, turning your shoulders in the direction of your bedroom. “No objections.” You make your way down the short hallway. Silently thanking yourself for not taking every single article of clothing with you when you moved in with Jackson.

Settling on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, you make your way back to Carly.

“Now, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” she says, holding a mug out to you across the island, “but you know I'm here to listen whenever you’re ready.”

You grab the mug from her grasp, and look down into it. “Am I too rough?” You asked timidly, not looking up.

“I'm sorry, what? Too rough? What makes you think that?” She questions, head tilted to the side, You give her a look that can only be summarized as “what do YOU think?”

“Did he seriously say that?”

“Mm, amongst other things.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee. “Apparently I need to be more obedient.”

“I swear I’ll kill him.” Her fist slammed down on the countertop, making you jump.

“He’s not worth it.” She reaches out, placing her hands over yours. “No, but you are.” You offer a smile at that. Though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, do you want to talk about it?” 

You nod. “Yeah. I just.. need to mull over it in my head first.”

“How about I order us some of your favorite take out, pick up a bottle of our favorite wine, and we can have a night on the couch like we used to? Watch some terrible rom coms?”

“That sounds.. Wonderful, Carls. Thank you.”

“Course. What are best friends for? Now, you go get us a sweet treat from downstairs and pick us our first awful movie. I’ll be back in 20.” She says, placing a friendly kiss atop your head and ruffling your hair on the way out.

After Carly’s return, you both promptly made home on the couch you’d spent most of your college nights together. She listened to your recount of what happened.. More threats to Jackson’s life were made.. Of course you quickly reeled her back in with the wine bottle. Promises to be there for whatever you needed were made, not that it needed to be said. She made a wonderful distraction for you for the rest of the night.

But night turns into day and unfortunately, life moves on. Whether we’re ready to or not. 

Carly makes sure you have your morning coffee before she has to make her way to her “big girl job” as she puts it. But I guess anyone with the privilege of working for the biggest sports magazine would make anyone feel a little intimidated by their job.

You begrudgingly make your way downstairs a little before your opening time and started setting all of your tools you’d need for the day. Going about your daily morning routine, trying not to let the gnawing feelings in the back of your head bother you as you help your few regular morning customers. Your favorite was probably Henry; a little old widow who always buys a peanut butter cookie to share with his very friendly pitbull, Rocco. He says peanut butter cookies used to be his wife's favorite, so he eats one every day to feel close to her. That story nearly ruined your day when he told you, but he immediately scolded you for crying. “Now, none of that. Life happens, dear. Pain is only temporary if you let it be.” His words didn’t seem to help you much right now, but you know he’d be scolding you for letting this affect you this way.

“Good morning, Mr. Henry. Rocco. How are we today?” You ask, reaching down to scratch behind Rocco’s ears.

“Oh, just peachy dear. Rocco had his yearly visit this morning and is in need of his reward.”

“Well, it’s not much of a reward when he gets one every day, Mr. Henry now is it?” Raising your eyebrow at the gentleman as you wash your hands.

“Ah, there she is. Good morning to you too.” He chuckles. How are you doing today, dear?”

“I gotta be honest with you, Mr. Henry.. It’s a rough day. Probably going to be a few rough days. But I know I’ll manage just fine. Especially if seeing you and Rocco is something I have to look forward to.” 

“But won’t you be closed tomorrow? For the championship game?” He questions, handing you the cash for his payment.

Your heart sinks at the thought.

Crap. 

"People will wonder why I'm not there and it’s going to start spreading. Everyone is going to know what happened. Or at least Jackson’s version of what happened. Maybe I should make a post letting people know. No. They won’t care. Who am I kidding of course they will. They all act like high schoolers. Am I going to be posted all over social media?  How is he going to spin this?  Or will it go quietly? Knowing Jackson, he’ll demand a press relea-"

“Y/N? You alright?” Henry’s worried voice snaps you out of your steady spiral.

“Yeah, sorry.” You sniffle. The back of your hand coming up to wipe the tears that had escaped. “Um, no. I’ll be open tomorrow. I won’t be at the game. Or any games for that matter. Jackson and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay, Mr. Henry. You don’t have to lie, I know you hated him too.” You push out a strained laugh.

“Well, yeah. He inhibited my ability to buy cookies on some sundays. And he was no good for you. But I'll spare you that lecture for now. I can see you’re upset.”

“I probably need to hear it, to be honest.” You say.

“One day, maybe. But you do your best to get through the day.” Picking his cookie box up from the counter he continues, “Fix your face though. No more tears. You have cookies to sell.”

You chuckle. “You got it, Mr. Henry. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course, dear. Have a great rest of your day. See you tomorrow, let’s go Rocco.” He says before he’s out the door, pitbull in tow.

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face and bring yourself back down. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you force yourself to smile and wipe the excess water off. “Pain is only temporary if you let it be.” You say to yourself, making your way out of the bathroom.

Spinning the cake on the lazy susan once it was done being decorated was always your favorite part. Seeing all of your work just perfectly pieced together, every flower laid perfectly, every swirl placed intentionally. Cake decorating was your main passion, but you picked up everything else along the way. Baking and decorating ran in the family after all. Your grandmother bought you your first cake kit, your first big kitchen aid mixer, got you your first cake decorating job at 15, etc. She really helped you form the love that you have for the craft now. Before she passed away when you were 18, she would bring you to this very bakery nearly every weekend to see the different cakes in the case. You owed your love for the craft to her, and you try to show your appreciation to her every day in your work. Always learning new techniques and trying new ideas. Your current obsession was learning this new palette knife technique where you quite literally paint the flowers on the cake with a palette knife. It’s turning out to be quite tricky, but Nana didn't raise no quitter!

You’re boxing up your last order of the day, back facing the door. The little bell sounds, “Hello! Welcome. I’ll be with you in just one moment!” You say, closing the last bit of the box down.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Love.”

Wait. That voice. That nickname.

Placing the box in the order cooler, you finally turned to the counter, taking in the man before you. You being shocked is an understatement, The man you face planted into yesterday was standing in your bakery.. Waiting for you to speak. 

Speak, Y/N, Speak.

“H-hello. Can I help you? You manage to get out.

“Well, what’s good?” He asks. 

Weird. 

He’s not going to bring up yesterday?

You scoff. “I’m the owner. So it’s all good. But I might be a little biased.” You say, wiping your hands on your apron. “But my cupcakes are my best sellers.”

“I see that, your case looks well picked over.” He says, walking over to the display on his right. “Do you have a favorite?”

“Mm, probably the red velvet. They’re my number one. Chocolate peanut butter is my close second.”

“Everything is homemade?” He inquires with a raised brow, and a smirk of course.

“What do you think?” You challenge. Seriously, what is your problem, y/n?

“I’ll take one of each then.” He says with a smile, walking back to the counter.

“Coming right up.” Boxing them up carefully, you set them on the counter. You tap a few buttons on your register and give him his total. He hands you his sleek black credit card, making you internally scoff and roll your eyes.

“Thank you for stopping in. Have a great rest of your day,” You say, turning away from the counter.

“You don’t remember me?” You hear from behind you. You can almost hear the smirk on his face.

“Oh I do, but if I'm being honest, I just don’t really care that much. Have a great day, Harry.” You say, rounding the corner into the back room.

You hear the little bell sound again, signaling he left.

“Why are you like this?” you say to yourself. 

The following few weeks were a blur. Nothing major came of you not making an appearance at the championship game. A few comments made on social media, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Just block and delete.

Henry and Rocco made sure they made their daily stop to see you of a morning. Henry even brought you a coffee from that shop down the street a few times. 

Carly stopped by every day during her lunch break to check on you.

“You know you don’t have to babysit me, right?

“I know, but how else will I get my daily cupcake?” She laughs, peeling the paper off the bottom of said cupcake.

Someone else was also making a daily stop, much to your dismay.

You and Carly were sitting at the little table with two chairs you have by the big shop window, just chatting about each other's day when the doorbell chimes, pulling your attention from the conversation.

Looking towards the door, you immediately roll your eyes. “Just, give me a minute.” You grumble to Carly before taking your spot behind the counter.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Emerald eyes bore into yours as you spoke.

“Good afternoon, Love.” He smiles warmly at you, “I’ll take the same as yesterday. Seems those were a hit for my friend Ryan out there.” Glancing over his shoulder you see Ryan standing outside the door.

“He can come in too, ya know.” you say, boxing up his order. “And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” you huff, smirking as you set the box in front of him.

“Mm, well, until you tell me your actual name, i’ve got nothing else to call you.” He says, handing you that same sleek black card. “Plus, if he comes in I can't have all your attention on me.”

“I’m wearing a name-tag, Harry.” You roll your eyes. “Bring Ryan in next time. I could use a break from you.” You smirk, handing him his card back.

“Reading your name-tag is different than you telling me your name, love.” He chuckles at you rolling your eyes again. “Ryan stays outside until I hear it come from you.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Harry.” “Must be why I’m so successful. I always get what I want.” He states matter of factly.

“Mm, and is that all you want?” You muse, raising a brow at him.

“On the contrary. There’s a plethora of things I want, but we can start with your name.” He smiles warmly at you.

Your breath hitches at his words. “It's Y/N.” You breathe out, his grin grows ten times in size.

“It’s lovely to officially meet you. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He states, picking up his box and making his way out to Ryan.

“What. The hell. Was that?” Carly muses from her spot at the table. You almost forgot she was here.

“That was Harry. He stops in every day. A right pain in my ass.” You say, plopping down in your chair.

“That didn’t seem like he’s a pain in your ass.” She starts, “Could cut that sexual tension with a knife!” she squeals. “Who is he?!”

“I have no idea. I quite literally ran into him a few weeks ago, and he’s been coming in here every day ever since. He’s a massive flirt as well. But I’m not interested.”

“It didn’t quite seem like you weren’t interested. You were hanging on every word he was saying.” “I was wishing he would leave.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N. He’s into you. I can tell.” “Maybe so, but I'm seriously not interested. I’m good with being by myself for now. It’s barely been three months, Carls.” “I know. You’ll make that jump when you’re ready.” I’ll never be ready. “Where did you say you met him? He looks so familiar.”

“Uh, I actually met him for the first time at the stadium. After all that happened with Jackson.”

“Does he work there?” 

“No idea, babe. I ran into him right near the parking lot. I don’t even know if he was coming or going.”

“And then he just showed up here the next day? Kinda weird.”

“I agree. It could just be a coincidence. My business does have a pretty good reputation.. If I do say so myself. but it makes my brain hurt trying to think about it.”

“Agreed. But be careful. I still don’t like that you’re here alone all day.”

“Ah, but Jesse is returning from school in a few days so I will have my help back.”

“Oh good! I liked him.” She stated, standing from her seat. “Well babe, I have got to get back to the office. I have a few articles to finish and send off before the end of the day. Same time tomorrow?”

“Of course. See you tomorrow. Love you long time!”

“Love you more!” She says, making her way to the exit.

About another week had passed, and it’d been the same old same old. Jesse, your seasonal help, returned from school for summer break a few days ago so you haven’t been as lonely throughout the day. He was thrilled when he found out that you and Jackson were no longer a couple. 

“Good, there are so many other better players out there that you could shack up with.”

“Jesse! Stop it right now.” You exclaimed, unable to contain your laughter. “Don’t make me mess up this cake.”

“I’m serious, Y/N! There are so many quarterbacks out there that don’t get sacked 12 times in a game. Or we could branch out to other positions on the team. What about a tight end? Or a linebacker if you like them bigger.”

“Oh my god, Jesse!” You cackle. “I don’t need you to play football match maker for me. I’m done with all of that.” You chuckle, setting your bag of icing down on the counter.

The doorbell chimes, breaking both of you out of your fits of giggles, and Jesse made his way up front.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” You hear Jesse ask.

“Oh, good morning. Is Y/N here?” That voice only belongs to one person. He’s early.

“Yeah, she’s actually finishing up an order. I’ll let her know you’re here. What’s your name?”

“Harry.’

“Got it man, be right back.” He says before disappearing around the corner where you stood. “Hey, there’s a guy named Harry out here for you?”

“Oh. Yeah, give me just a minute. Or you know what, can you finish this? Just needs a leaf here and here, and then it goes in its box in the cooler.”

“You trust me to finish a cake?” His eyes widened.

“It’s a few leaves, Jesse, not a rose. Just don’t fuck it up, and you won’t die. Simple as that, really.”

“Oh yeah, simple.”

“I have faith in you.” You say, rounding the corner. “And how can I help you today, Harry? You’re quite early.”

“Good morning to you too, Love.” “Harry, I’ve told you to stop calling me that. You know my name now,”

“I know, but I enjoy watching the lightning spark in your eyes when I call you Love.” He smirks at you.

Your cheeks flash a light pink. “What can I do for you today, Harry?” You mutter out.

“I’ll take one dozen of the red velvet.”

“Ooh, big spender. You’re gonna clear me out of my red velvet for the day. Do you and Ryan have a big sweet tooth today?” You joke, placing the cupcakes into their respective box.

“Not quite, I have a meeting and I promised a treat from this bakery I discovered a few weeks ago. Haven’t shut up about it. I never shut up about the owner either. She’s awfully pretty.”

“You’ve gotten quite bold, Harry.” You muse, sliding his order across the counter. 

The doorbell dings again, pulling your attention from the man in front of you.

“Good morning, Mr. Henry, Rocco. I’ll be with you in just a minute.” As the words were leaving your mouth, Jesse emerged from the back room.

“I can take you over here, Mr. Henry.” Jesse claims, leading him to the other side of the case. Before following him, Mr. Henry sets a coffee cup down on your counter,

“Here you are, dear. Thought you could use that today.” Mr. Henry smiles at you.

“Thank you, Mr. Henry. You don’t have to keep doing that.” You scold.

“I can do whatever I want, thank you.” He smiles, taking his stand down with Jesse

Turning your attention back to Harry, you give him his total.

“That doesn't sound right. Shouldn’t it be more?” He questions.

“Mm, nope. I give a discount when you buy twelve at a time.” You say, handing him his card back. “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Harry?”

“I can think of a few things, but we have an audience. Naughty girl.” His words make you go red in the face, nevermind the pink tinge from before.

“You are insufferable. Have a great meeting.” You say, stepping away from the counter.

“See you tomorrow, Love.” He says before promptly heading outside.

You don't even realize you're smiling.

“Well now I have got just about a million questions.” Jesse’s voice startles you on your left.

“I second that,” Mr. Henry says. “Now what is it you kids say these days? Oh right. Spill.”

“Yeah, what he said. Spill, Y/N.” Jesse said, backing up the elderly man.

“Both of you are terrible. There’s nothing to spill.” You say, turning to wipe off the counter.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Jesse says.

“I know you might not be able to tell, but I was not born yesterday, dear. I know something when I see it. Now just who was he?” Mr. Henry quips out.

You chuckle. “I promise, he’s nobody. He’s been coming in here every day. He’s got a little crush on me, I will admit that, but I’m not looking for anything right now. Jackson still has me all messed up in the head.”

“Okay, but they say the fastest way to get over a guy is to get under a new one!” Jesse exclaims, “You never know what you’re miss- OKAY OW.” He says when you snap him with a towel.

“Now, I wouldn't listen to Mr. Horn dog over here, but maybe someone new is what you need, dear.”

“I hear you, Mr. Henry, I’m just not ready for that just yet. I appreciate both of your concerns though. Have a great day, Mr. Henry. Rocco.” You say with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. “Jesse, I’m going to step out for a minute. I’ll be right back.” You disappear up the staircase to your apartment.

“Maybe we overstepped.” Jesse says to Mr. Henry.

“Perhaps, but maybe she needs someone to push her to that step.”

“I think I’ll take a step back from that. I don’t want to lose my job. She’ll get back out there when she’s ready.”

“I suppose you’re right. Have a good day, Jesse. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good one, Mr. Henry.”

Mr. Henry and Rocco make their way outside, settling on a bench right down the street from your shop.

“Mr. Henry, was it?”

“Who’s asking?” He responds, looking up at the person in question.

“Names Harry. Harry Styles. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” Harry asks, extending his hand.

“Mm, is this about the owner of that bakery down there?” Mr. Henry inquires.

“Would it be a problem if it was?”

Mr. Henry laughs, and takes Harry’s hand in his, giving him a firm shake. “What can I do for you, son?

thank you for reading! please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed <3

taglist: @stylesfever @olipoli21 @hermionelove @st-ev-ie

[velvetballaspark]

Love itttttt<33333 love that she’s trying to keep herself grounded and love that she has people looking out for her. I also love her personality. Love that she’s sassy and brazen and still has this part of her that manages to become flustered and shy. Seems like it’s Harry’s goal to get her that way too 🤭 I love that Harry has a quiet confidence. He’s patient and he continuously shoots his shot. Him being flirty and yet not being like, overly pretentious and fond of myself. IDK IM NOT EXPLAINING IT RIGHT. Like he’s just. He’s bold enough to make those moves in front of Jesse and Mr. Henry and yet he’s so calm, cool and collected? UGH. HE’S CHEEKY. That’s it. I think. Cheeky and confident not yucky-cocky. KEJFOTIFU FORGET IT the words are not wording—just know I loved this

[velvetballaspark]

Elevator Meet-Cute

non-AU!Harry x Assistant at Columbia Records!Y/N

Summary: Y/N works at Columbia Records for one of the top executives. The one and only Harry Styles makes a "surprise" drop-by visit to their office. After making an awful joke in the elevator with him, she finds out she's about to accompany her boss in the meeting he's there for.

WC: 4.7k

CW: mentions of blushing, silly goofy

A/N: um... hi. this is my first post ever. possibly my only. please be nice, i'm a nervous nellie 🥺 special shoutout to @cherryjuiceblues for being my editor and my biggest supporter by reading all my silly goofy writings, listening to my non-sensical and perpetual worrying, helping to build my confidence, and finally, encouraging me to post.

Working for the music industry has been a whirlwind to put it mildly. But working directly for Jenifer at Columbia Records was totally unexpected. And even though she’s just working as her assistant, watching someone as powerful as Jenifer maintain a high level executive position—whilst managing the distribution of new music from some of the greatest musicians of their time—has been life changing for Y/N.

Most days start the same. She picks up Jenifer’s favorite coffee on her way into the office—a building purposefully kept off the grid so large talents could visit and nobody would suspect the business going on inside. It helped keep new releases a surprise. A two floor, sandstone-colored building that even looked a little run down from the outside. Inside, however, it’s remodeled and decorated to the nines. Koi ponds, a skylight, a barista joint (enter: Jenifer’s favorite coffee), plush couches and expensive art. The works.

While standing in line for her daily coffee pickup, she notices a bit of commotion from the corner of her eye, causing her to look up at the flurry of people walking through the main lobby. In the middle of this tiny crowd of people, she spots a man. He’s dressed in joggers that are tucked into his socks, a pair of trainers, and a hoodie on top. Peeking out through the hoodie, milk chocolate curly hair was tufted into a little claw clip. Even with sunglasses on his face, it was hard to miss who it was. 

But no one had told Y/N that Harry Styles was visiting that day. Normally everyone is in a tizzy the day, or sometimes even for the whole week, before someone high profile is expected to swing by the office, so this had to have been a surprise, drop-by kind of visit, right?

Y/N quickly tips the barista and hurries into the elevator with a coffee in hand for her boss, just knowing Jenifer was likely already pulling her hair out if she’d only gotten word this morning that Harry Styles was in the building—or worse, still didn’t know. She jabs the button to the second floor and just as the doors are closing, the man himself slides through and joins her in the tiny traveling metal box.

An intense wave of nerves washes over her in his presence. It feels like every hair on her body is standing up in his presence. Just the air he carried with him was intimidating, but not in an inherently bad way. The scent of his cologne and fresh laundry fill the elevator. His sunglasses are now pushed up into his hair, resting in front of the endearing claw clip he’d chosen to tame his handsomely tousled curls. She wants to spend more time looking at him—she wants to see the minute details of his face, but she knows it’s rude to stare. She’s trying to keep calm, trying to avoid indicating she knew who he was, but her body language is subconscious of course. She stiffens, holding her breath. 

But it’s a different kind of nervousness than what she normally experiences with a VIP client visit. That kind of nervousness usually comes with thoughts of wanting to make sure they’re pleased, making sure everything is ready and prepared for them, making sure they have the client’s favorite brand of water in stock and refrigerated, making sure she doesn’t spill something on them, or step on their feet, or accidentally steal their pen. Normal nerves. Wanting to make sure the client is happy. 

None of the clients she’d met before had ever made her feel like there was electricity floating through the air. Like she needed to squeeze her thighs and arms tightly against her body, turning herself into the shape of an uncooked spaghetti noodle, being careful not to brush against him in what seems like a much smaller space than it did yesterday—for fear of a chemical reaction; like if they touched it would be the equivalent of striking a match. The back of her knees and her hands are already clammy, trembling in a feeling of self-consciousness—of her movements, of what she’s wearing, of what he thinks of her (which is nothing at this point, she obviously knows this, but still). 

She knew he was attractive but fuck, this is something else entirely. These are not normal nerves. These nerves are the kind she gets on a first date, not riding on an elevator with a client.

And true to character, Y/N usually says stupid shit when she’s overly nervous. In this instance, she pawns out a terrible joke.

“What floor?” She gestures to the panel, hoping her trembling hand goes unnoticed.

There’s only two floors. They are both on the first, and she’s already pushed the button to the second floor. There’s literally no other option. 

So… Yeah. It was a terrible joke! But Y/N had always thought it’d be funny to do that to someone. Confuse them for a minute. Her dumbass just happened to choose Harry Styles to try it out on.

The man beside her opens his mouth as if to speak, then cocks his head in momentary confusion, then promptly closes his mouth, his lips twitching in amusement as he realized she was fucking with him.

With a soft jilt, the elevator starts to move upwards. Y/N’s gaze falls to the floor but she can still feel his eyes linger on her profile for a few more seconds. She rolls her lips into her mouth in a pitiful attempt to curb her smile, her face burning from the flush in her cheeks at her own ridiculousness. 

Fortunately—and she guesses, unfortunately as well—there’s only two floors, as previously discussed, and therefore it’s only seconds later when the elevator bings as the doors slide open to reveal the second floor. In her peripheral vision, she sees the man’s arm lift upwards, gesturing towards her in a “ladies first” sort of motion.

Considering her first fumble, she figures she might as well lean into it.

“This is my floor,” she peeks up at the man through her lashes to briefly meet the man’s gaze, jutting a thumb out towards the opening of the elevator doors. The man has a small smirk on his face already, but at her words, the corner of his mouth buckles, a dimple beginning to dip into his left cheek.

Again, she knew it was dumb, but something about this man seemed to make her do stupid things already. She waves a small goodbye and scurries out, as if the man in the elevator wouldn’t be exiting off onto the same floor right after her. As if the man could somehow possibly be going to a floor higher up.

She scampers down the hallway towards Jenifer’s office, not looking back to see if Harry had gone in the same direction as her, knocking twice quietly, and then enters.

She closes the door behind her with a gust, pressing her back up against it, squeezing her eyes shut and letting a large sigh exhale from her body. The electric charge in the air she’d felt had finally ceased now that she was out of his presence.

“Y/N?” Jenifer asks, startling Y/N in her spot. Her eyes fly open to find Jenifer staring at her assistant warily. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she chirps out nervously, the tone of her voice very much indicative of the anxiety she feels. “Did, um, did anyone tell you about who’s here today?” 

She winces as she asks the question, keeping one eye open to watch her boss’s facial expression. She really hopes she isn’t going to be the one delivering the news to her.

“Yes…”

“So, you know that Harry Styles is here then, yes?” 

Y/N holds her breath while she waits for an answer.

“Yes…” Her boss echoes in the same apprehensive tone, continuing to stare at Y/N, perplexed at her assistant’s flustered state.

“Wait, then why didn’t anyone tell me?” Y/N asks, eyebrows furrowing accompanied by a miniscule shake of her head, suddenly feeling annoyed nobody had given her a heads up.

“Only executives were told. Information spreads fast and with someone who has that high of a publicity profile, it was very hush hush even on an executive level. There’s a few people who we really have to protect their privacy if fans and paparazzi follow their every move, anywhere they go. He’s one of them.”

Y/N grumbles. She guesses that makes sense, but still, a little warning would’ve been nice? Maybe a text? An email? A raven? An owl? Literally anything? Attire is always business professional but she would’ve done… something—she’s not sure what—to at least make herself look slightly more… dressed up. She smoothes down her shirt.

“Y/N, why do you look so flustered? Did something happen?”

Y/N’s eyes squeeze shut again, a tiny groan escaping her mouth, then she opens her eyes once more, mustering everything she has to present a calm, cool, and collected facade.

“No. Everything’s fine. I was just a little… surprised, I guess.” A half-truth.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you need to tell me? We’re meeting with him in 10 minutes so spit it out quickly if so.”

We?

Y/N nearly chokes on her spit—the irony of her boss’s words spit it out entirely lost on her—but tries to cover it up by clearing her throat. She knows Jenifer isn’t buying it. “S-sorry, sorry—did you say ‘w-we’?”

“Yes, I need you taking notes during the meeting as I want to give Mr. Styles my full attention. He called for this meeting but wouldn’t say what it was about, so we have to assume it’s important,” Jenifer says calmly as she walks over to take her coffee from Y/N’s hands, who’s still pressed against the door of her office. “So, are you sure there isn’t anything you need to tell me before we go in there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She considered it. She really did consider just telling her boss up front about her terrible joke and the awkward encounter. But instead all she says is—

“Nope. All good. I’ll be ready in 9 minutes. West conference room?”

“Yes, thank you, Y/N,” Jenifer responds, eyeing her assistant warily once more with one eyebrow raised, wondering what could possibly have her assistant in such a tizzy.

Harry and his team are already seated in the conference room when Jenifer and Y/N enter through the doors. Y/N tip-toes behind Jenifer, knowing it’s inevitable that he’ll recognize her, but maybe Jenifer wouldn’t introduce her and they’ll all pretend like she wasn’t even in there!

It was fun to wish, anyway.

“Mr. Styles, we’re so happy to have you here. I trust your trip here was pleasant?” Jenifer kicks everything off with, extending a hand to shake. Harry stands up to return her handshake, and his team follows his lead.

“It was, thank you. And thank you f’seein’ me last minute,'' he responds. His voice is so deep—it makes Y/N shiver. She hadn’t expected it to be that deep.

She watches him from behind Jenifer’s shoulder, that is, until Jenifer steps to the side and reveals Y/N’s frame, much to her dismay. “It’s no problem at all. That’s what we’re here for after all. This is my assistant, Y/N Y/L/N. She’ll be taking notes during the meeting. Are you comfortable discussing business with her in the room? She’s signed an NDA so I can assure you that anything shared in this room will not be shared.”

Harry’s eyes lock with Y/N’s. She hadn’t looked directly into them in the elevator and she thinks she should’ve, so she could’ve better prepared herself. The color is that of a glowing mossy green pond, and the intensity of his gaze forces her to take in a sharp breath and hold it. His lips are curled into a knowing smile, and there’s a playful sparkling glint in his eyes. She can feel the heat rising in her neck.

“Sure,” he responds, his tone dripping with humor. He definitely recognizes her. He definitely remembers. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he follows with, keeping up with formal etiquette, but his tone indicates there’s some kind of inside joke. Y/N nods her head in acknowledgement as he puts his hands back in the front pocket of his hoodie. 

“Likewise,” she murmurs quietly, much more shyly than she would’ve liked to. She can feel Jenifer’s gaze on her before her boss lets out an uncomfortable, nervous sounding chuckle. The tension could be cut with a knife.

As they all sit back down, Y/N’s gaze never leaves his, and vice versa. But right before they break eye contact, he shoots her a wink and he watches as Y/N’s cheeks flush a dark, flustered pink.

Harry maintains an air of professionalism and focus throughout the meeting. Y/N is able to spend the majority of the meeting with her eyes on paper as she scribbles notes, for both Jenifer and Harry’s team. But there’s a few moments that Harry does manage to catch the eyes of Y/N, when she’s admiring him, thinking he’s too preoccupied with the current conversation, but his eyes flick to hers the moment she is, as if he could’ve felt her eyes on him even if he had been faced the other way. He gives her a look of You’re not slick. I. See. You.

It’s a game of tag and the conference room is their playground. First, he’ll catch her eyes on him. Then, she’ll catch his on her. Though, she thinks she mostly catches him not because she felt his eyes on her, but because she was trying to catch a glimpse of him and his eyes had already been on her. Each time their gazes lock, Y/N’s hand stutters on her page. It’s hard to focus.

Even though he’d been professional and focused, clearly driven and knowing of what he wants, his vision for his next record, he’d also been profoundly easygoing—so mellow and relaxed—and there was something comforting, soothing even, about being in his presence despite how intimidated she felt around him. He was also funny, and cheeky, and multiple times found playful ways to tease his entire team resulting in everyone letting out a few chuckles. There was an obvious fondness, a protectiveness, for the people he worked with. They weren’t just people who worked for him; they were friends—maybe even family to him.

So, the rumors were true. People gravitated towards him, physically and emotionally, when he spoke. His slow, deep British drawl was enough to soothe and entrance anyone who let their guard down for a moment's notice. He was charming. Charming is an understatement. He was enigmatic. Beguiling.

At the meeting’s end, everyone stands up and Jenifer reaches out to shake Harry’s hand once more. 

Y/N can’t deny that she’s a little disappointed when Harry finally departs the conference room, leaving her and Jenifer standing on one side of the table. Jenifer’s face has a picture perfect smile pasted on it until the second the door closes behind them, to which Jenifer whips her head to face Y/N with an accusing glare.

“Please tell me you’ve not hooked up with him,” she deadpans.

“What?!” Y/N’s voice reaches a new octave in response. She tries not to shriek, but Jenifer’s assumption is just so ludicrous. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s clear you two know each other. And there’s a strict no fraternizing with clients clause in your contract. I don’t care how cute or good in bed he is,” she says, giving Y/N another pointed stare. Y/N’s eye bulge, the heat creeping back into her cheeks at the mention of him being good in bed.

“Jenifer, I can assure you. I just met him today. I’d never spoken to him before in my life until today." 

“Promise me. Swear on your life. Because if it’s a lie, I will find out. I love having you as my assistant, but you know I wouldn’t be able to keep you. But if you tell me now, there's still hope yet—because if it’s something that happened before you started working here then we can disclose it to HR and get it all squared away,” Jenifer says, her features finally relaxing like she’d been dreading having to give her little spiel. Y/N’s not sure she’s ever seen that side of Jenifer before. It was actually kind of scary, to be quite honest.

“I promise. Swear on my life.”

“Then what was that all about then?” Jenifer asks, seeming to relax back into her normal demeanor, a hint of amusement tinting her expression now. Actually, it’s even friendlier than usual. Y/N thinks she’d have normally dropped the topic after that. The rapid change of mood is a bit of a whiplash for her.

Trying to think of an answer for Jenifer, Y/N’s face flushes at the memory of—

“There! That’s what I am talking about,” Jenifer exclaims with a snap of her fingers and a point of her finger at Y/N, and Y/N’s eyes widen, startled and confused. “You’ve been a nearly tickled-pink color the entire time. Are you just attracted to him or a big fan or what?”

“Jenifer, that’s a little personal…” Y/N responds, trying to sound chiding and shocked at her boss’s forwardness, but it only comes out sounding shy and pouty—bashful. “But um, no, none of those things—I mean, wait—okay, I can’t say—I guess I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little attracted… I mean, you saw him, right? But that—that’s beside the point. That’s not what I… What I… Shit. Um, what was the question?” Y/N asks, blinking rapidly in succession, dizzied by her own words.

But Jenifer only giggles in response. Giggles. Y/N’s not sure she’s ever heard her boss giggle. Much less at her.

“What in god’s name has you so flustered, Y/N? Did he… Hit on you… Maybe?” Jenifer asks, treading lightly with the question and peering at her with curiosity.

“Hit on me? Oh, god, no—no. Me? Ha! That’s, um… that’s funny. No, uh, I… He just makes me nervous, I guess, and um, so,” she sighs before continuing, finally caving to her boss’s curiosity. “We rode on the elevator together this morning, and I made a really, dumb embarrassing joke,” Y/N finally admits with a sheepish look on her face, recalling the incident internally. “And then I… Well, I made another bad joke. Just to… Just to really solidify that hole I’d dug myself into, you know?” Y/N’s tone drips in a defeated-sounding satire before she continues.

 “Gotta… Gotta make a good impression! Well, maybe not—maybe not good impression… But not bad either! If It was bad I would’ve told you beforehand, of course. Just… indifferent. More just, um, embarrassing, a little. But it was only in front of him! Not his team or anything... Not that that makes it any better, necessarily, since he’s the client… It’s just…” Y/N sighs again, seemingly swept away in a cyclone of erratic thoughts. Jenifer watches in stunned amusement. “Anyway, it wasn't inappropriate by any means though—the jokes. I just—I, well—it was just like, a dumb joke. You know? Like a bad joke. So he was probably just—maybe feeling bad for me, or maybe he was amused at the attempt. Anyway. Um. I’ll get these notes typed up for you and send them over,” Y/N finally finishes her clusterfuck ramble of an explanation, making way to exit the conference room. 

“I’ve never seen you so tongue-tied, Y/N,” Jenifer responds following behind, soft amusement lacing the tone of her words. Y/N opens the door and continues to talk as she walks.

“Yeah, well, nervous, like I said—oh!” Y/N startles, cutoff mid-sentence after nearly slamming into a body.

The body of the person they were talking about.

“Mr. Styles! I didn’t know you were still here. Did you forget something?” Jenifer asks, switching back into her professional demeanor automatically.

Y/N can feel the burn intensify on her face, her frame frozen just inches in front of Harry with Jenifer right behind her, sandwiched between the both of them. It’s a little close for comfort on either end.

“Oh, I was actually hopin’ t’speak with Y/N about somethin’ in the notes from the meeting,” Harry responded with an ease that conflictingly encouraged her to feel calm even though she was feeling anything but calm. She’d barely recovered, now flustered by the interaction she just shared with her boss. 

Her heart hammered in her chest, feeling like a fly caught in a spider’s web, but the way her name sounded on his lips was divine. She’d never loved the sound of her name before. Not until it was wrapped around his cushiony lips. 

He holds eye contact with Jenifer for a majority of the statement, but glances down to look at Y/N for the briefest second when he says her name, only to find Y/N already watching him from beneath her lashes—eyes wide and curious with blown out pupils, her mouth slightly agape and leaving just enough space to slip a key through it—at the man standing before her. That same little smirk is curled at the corner of the left side of his mouth, the ghost of a dimple playing at his cheek as amusement dances in his staggeringly green eyes. 

Y/N feels herself curl up her shoulders shyly in her Jenifer-Harry sandwich, wondering if he really does have something to say about the notes or if he actually has something to say about her dumbass remarks from earlier. On the bright side, at least he wasn’t asking to speak to Jenifer in private instead. Surely he’d be making a complaint about her if that was the case.

“Oh,” Jenifer says, and Y/N can hear the way her voice is surprised-but-not-surprised simultaneously, with a lingering curiosity—a questioning in her tone heard perhaps by Y/N only. “Yes, of course. That’s fine. Y/N, please swing by my office after you’re done.”

Jenifer breezes past Y/N and Harry, the sound of her heels thunking on the carpet of the long hallway. Y/N’s finally able to take a step back so she’s not breathing in his face when she brings her head up to look at him.

When she does, she sees the dazzlingly pretty man up close in person for the very first time—a vision she will not soon forget; stubble on his face and the planes of it bordered with lines so sharp they rival the crisp cut of a piece of cardstock. The color of his eyes is a whimsical, woodland kind of green, flecks of gold sprinkled throughout, and his fluffy chestnut curls are still held back in that frustratingly adorable claw clip, little wisps escaping on the sides of his head to caress and hug the shells of his ears.

Truth be told, she’d actually been a fan of One Direction back in the day. She’d always found him the most attractive out of the other boys in the group. She also loved his voice the most, easily identifiable on their tracks. But life goes on, and Y/N’s music tastes expanded and spanned across many genres and artists, and then One Direction broke up. It wasn’t until working at Capitol Records that she’d gotten herself up to date with all their biggest clients, including Harry Styles as a solo artist. 

She’d been impressed with his last three records, and enjoyed his new solo music thoroughly in her research. But life had just been so hectic, that she really hadn’t spent much time following social media or keeping up with trends or what was happening—celebrity news was different from music industry news. She’d had no time to care about who was dating who, if so-and-so broke up with so-and-so. But she knew she’d recognize him if she saw him, however she hadn’t spent much time paying attention to the details of his face and how he looked these days. 

But now that she’s standing in front of him, allowing herself to look at him for longer than a second unlike she’d done in the meeting or in the elevator, she’s at a loss for words. He’s just so… Handsome. She can’t find a physical flaw. Too gorgeous for his own good, honestly. 

He’d aged and matured like a fine wine. A delicacy for luxurious tongues.

Opening her notebook, she stutters through her words. “Um, s-so, what did yo-you need to add t-to the notes?” She clicks her pen, readying to make an adjustment on the pages, then peeks up at him through her nervously fluttering lashes.

When she sees him, she sees that he’s already smiling at her, dimples dipping into both sides of his cheeks. It’s a sweet, sincere kind of smile—the kind of smile you give when you’re standing in front of a shy child you’re trying to say hello to for the first time.

There’s a moment where he doesn’t say anything, and Y/N thinks she might burst. Luckily, she’s out of awful jokes right now, mind blank in exhaust from the day already.

“Knock knock,” is all Harry says in response, ignoring her question altogether.

Y/N blinks owlishly at the man. She knows what she’s supposed to say, in theory, but also… what the fuck is going on?

“Er…” He looks like he’s stifling laughter as he waits for her answer. “Who’s… there?”

“Hula,” Harry says, waiting for her again.

Okay, this was definitely going down in her book as one of the weirdest conversations she’d ever had with a famous musician.

“Hula… Who?”

Harry pops a p sound, and it takes a moment for it to click before Y/N absolutely cannot not stop the giggle that bubbles up out of her.

And then she’s giggling like a madwoman. It’s a delirious sounding giggle and she just can’t contain herself. She reaches her hand up, covering her mouth as more giggles spew out of her.

It’s the result of all the tension she’d felt since that silly little moment in the elevator. It’s the result of the anxiety she felt when she worried that her boss wasn’t aware that Harry Styles was in the building today. It’s the result of the nerves she felt when she realized she was about to go into an important meeting with him right after making a terrible joke and then running away from him. It’s the result of her squeezing her thighs tightly throughout the hour and a half meeting she sat in with him, as she admired and listened to the way he captivated and charmed everyone in his presence. It’s the result of the tension she felt when Jenifer assumed they’d hooked up, which was an outlandish accusation in itself, before telling her that she could possibly lose her job over it. It’s the result of nearly slamming into Harry on her way out of the conference room whilst talking about how nervous he made her. It’s the result of Harry asking to speak to Y/N privately after she’d nearly slammed into him. It’s the result of Harry making a knock knock joke at the end of all of that.

“What is even happening?” She coos out giddily through her giggling, holding her stomach with her other hand because the muscles were aching from the spontaneous workout induced by her giggle fit, and then she hears Harry sputter out a laugh in response.

“I thought we were jus’ exchanging terrible jokes,” he says, looking exceedingly proud of himself, like he’d maybe spent the whole meeting coming up with that joke and that having made her laugh with it was the best thing he’d ever done. 

She gasps, feigning offense through her continued giggles.

“See you next time?” Harry asks, his smiley face watching the girl in front of him become unraveled, her entire face pinking again for what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d met her.

“Next time,” Y/N parrots, as she tapers down her giggles and pulls herself together, giving him one last look before walking past him towards Jenifer’s office.

Harry listens while she quietly giggles to herself as she gets farther down the hall, already thinking of reasons he could come back to visit her.

[sykostyles]

Stop it right now??? This felt so real?? Like I was reading a recount of something I actually did?? I feel like I need to ground myself now!!

I enjoyed every minute of this!! 🫶🏼🩵

[velvetballaspark]

Stop it I squealed!!!!! This is so precious to me. Thank you for reading and for taking the time to let me know you enjoyed it 🥹❤️ appreciate your kindness<3

[sykostyles]

let you love me 1.0

wc: 3.3k summary: in which y/n is a 26 year old bakery owner and she can't quite get this whole "love" thing right; settling on finding solace in being alone. One day, Jackson Cole: an egotistical, but oh so charismatic professional quarterback comes along and swears he can change her mind.. and for a while he does. nearly two years of breaking down her walls.. but they seem to argue about one thing a lot. y/n's "negativity". she swears she's not trying ro be a pessimist.. it just works out better for her if she keeps her expectations low. But what happens when she meets a handsome stranger, who wants nothing more than to see her smile? Will she push everything away again or will she finally accept the love she deserves? or ; tldr sunshine!harry x grumpy! afab reader

a/n: firstly, I need to thank @freedomfireflies for being so kind, and accepting, and encouraging.. and so many other wonderful adjectives.. but seriously, thank you for giving me the courage to just take the plunge and write the damn thing. anddd for being my beta reader!! getting mother fireflies' stamp of approval has to mean its worthy for everyone else to see.. right? welcome to my first story! please do tell if you enjoyed! (there will be more to this, I'm working on it now <3)

cw: this story contains suggestive and explicit language, minor descriptions of violence, and verbal abuse. please do not continue if these topics upset you!

You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. You weren’t sure why you thought this time would be any different. Because he was somebody? Because he had a title? Or was it because he showed a genuine interest in you? Was it because he made the effort unlike most of your previous partners? You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of? This time, it hurt. A lot.

You curse yourself as you walk hastily back to get back to your car at the far end of the parking lot. Jackson had a lot of nerve asking you to bring him his practice bag all the way from your apartment, to then basically dump you in the stadium corridor. As you’re rounding the final corner to finally escape the thickening air in the stadium, you’re completely lost in your thoughts, thinking back to the conversation you had just left behind..

“Hey, baby, thanks for bringing that. Coach was about to have my ass again.” Jackson breathes out as he sees you round the corner near the locker rooms. He takes the bag from your grasp, and places his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you into his front. Your hands instinctively reach for the nape of his neck; nimble fingers tangle in his wet hair at the base.

“Oh, but of course! Who would I be to not close up my shop early, again. Run all the way home to get your bag, again. Run all the way here just to step in and save the day for my big, strong man? Again.” You giggle, leaning up for a kiss. 

That’s how it’s always been. Y/N is as sarcastic and as teasing as they come. She explains it as “playful bullying” and swears she doesn’t mean anything by it. She has genuine feelings in there somewhere, but she thinks nobody but her needs to know that. She just chooses to portray her affection in rather questionable ways.. In speaking terms, if she’s not being “mean” to you, she doesn’t like you. But she’s tried so hard to get better at it. She swears.

“Do you really have to do that now?” Jackson asks, tilting his head out of the way, dodging your kiss. You look up at him with shocked eyes.

“Do what? Save your ass? As you so graciously put it.” You say, rolling your eyes, attempting to kiss your boyfriend for a second time.

“No, Y/N, that.” He says, trying to pull from your grasp, rejecting you yet again.

“Jackson, I’m not following. Use your words.” you say, turning his head to force him to keep eye contact.

He wasn’t running from this when you spent forty minutes of your evening bringing him his bag for the umpteenth time in your relationship. Not to mention the possible business you're missing out on by closing early. Again.

“Oh my god, you’re still doing it! You’re talking to me like I’m stupid.” he says, stepping back again, attempting to free himself from your hold.

You stand there, stunned. 

“He really is like all the others..” flashes in your mind.

“In what world is me teasing you about bringing you your practice bag, again, insinuating that you’re stupid?” You ask, reaching up to cup his face. “Forgetful? Maybe.” Your thumb making its way across the apple of his cheek

“See, you can't even make one single statement without attacking my character, even when you’re trying to explain yourself.”

“I’m not trying to explain myself, Jackson, I’m trying to understand what you’re talking about. And I’m not attacking your character, Jacky, I’m just teasing you. You know that.”

“You’re always like this. I can’t deal with this right now.” He says, grabbing your wrist, pulling your touch from his face.

“Can’t deal with what? Jackson, I haven’t done anything. Are you having a bad day or something? You were fine this morn– ” You start to say, tugging your wrist from his grasp.

“Just– Go home. I can’t deal with you right now, okay? I have a practice to get to.” He says, turning to walk into the locker room, but is stopped dead in his tracks..

“Jackson Wyatt Cole, you are not just going to walk away from this right now! You can’t just spout this nonsense and then turn into a child when asked to explain yourself. Now, either explain yourself or find someone else to bring you your bag the next time you forget it.” You seethe. 

His head ticks to the side before he slowly turns to face you. Seeing the face you’d grown to love over the last nearly two years shouldn’t scare you, but in this moment you did not recognize him.

“You have got to be the definition of ungrateful.” Oh, he wants to do this now?

“For the greater part of two years I have given you everything and you still think you can talk to me like that?” Jackson starts to raise his voice, noticing the growing audience in the locker room hallway, and the curious gazes from all directions. Please don’t do this now..

“You’re always so mean to me. You know that?” I swear I don’t mean to be.. 

“You make me question every choice I make.” I’m just an overthinker, I don’t mean anything by it..

“Even the other girlfriends and wives ask how I deal with your attitude." Okay, ouch. 

“You don’t think before you speak, it makes you look so rude.” That one’s true.. I’m trying, I promise..  

“You’re so unbelievably condescending when someone tries to make friends with you.” I’m sorry.. I swear I don't mean anything by it.. 

“You think you’re right in every instance, including now. You could have just given me my bag, gotten a kiss and been on your way. But no, you’re here, holding me up, by being a right bitch. So, maybe I should find someone else, because all I can see right now is someone I’m not sure I want to waste my time and effort on anymore.” Okay.. wow. Um. Alright.. Lay it all out in front of your teammates, why don’t you?

You just let him sit there and berate you. Like a child.

That was it. He’d broken through that exterior. That rock solid exterior that you’d spend years building up. It all came tumbling down with just a few words from someone you thought you loved; someone you thought finally loved you. This is what it always came down to when you argued; your inability to see how great things were around you, always settling on the negative sides of things. Always responding with snarky comments, never meeting anyone elses enthusiasm, etc. Normally, you’d be able to hold your own and fight back, but he was using your insecurities and anxieties against you, with an audience nonetheless! How did harmless teasing turn into this?

“I’m.. s-sorry, Jacky.” You finally choked out, tears threatening to spill over. You wanted to stand here and keep arguing. “I’m not any of those things!” You want to yell. But deep down, you know that you are. Not by your own choice though. Through years of failed relationships and tainted family ties, you had become this person. You became this angry, pessimistic, shell of a girl who really only wanted to love, and to be loved, but you had no idea how to really do either of those things. 

You never intended to turn out this way; it just happened. 

And it just makes it easier in situations like this.. 

Right?

“Go home, Y/N. We’ll talk later.’ Jackson sighs, leaving you in the corridor.

Rounding that corner in the parking lot, you don’t even spare a glance and end up walking right into the broad chest of a man. Hands reach up and grasp your shoulders, keeping you from toppling over. Your hands shoot up, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“Woah there, love. I gotcha.” you hear. 

Looking up, you’re met with the loveliest emerald eyes you’d ever seen. A smile, that should be illegal to be that bright.. And the jawline? Don’t even get me started! But, with your current state, you couldn’t have cared less in that moment what he looked like. 

You slowly straightened up, dropping your grasp on his jacket.

“Sorry.” you stated, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. “You can let go now.” 

“My apologies, Love.” The man says, letting his hold on your shoulders go. He studies you for a moment, glancing over the features of your face. Taking in your flushed cheeks, teary and swollen eyes, and your all but quivering bottom lip.

You roll your eyes at his use of the moniker again. 

“Don’t call me that.” You mutter, glancing around, noticing the band of guys trailing behind this stranger.

He chuckles, “Well, what should I call you? M’ Harry, by the way.” He asks, reaching inside his jacket, he grabs a tissue and holds it out towards you. 

“Does it matter?” You bite out, ignoring his gesture. “I’m kind of in a hurry, here. So if you don’t mind.” You say, starting to walk around him. “This is exactly what Jackson was talking about.” you think to yourself. 

But you deter none, and continue your journey to your car. Once inside, the tears just flow. 

Jackson was supposed to be different. He’s the one who sought you out after all. 

He met you when he was picking up a cake his dad ordered for his mothers birthday.

He was smitten ever since. 

Made all the efforts to make you feel special. Stopped in your bakery every single day to bring you coffee from your favorite shop down the street. Flowers were delivered constantly; especially since you mentioned that yellow tulips were your favorite.

“I don’t really date anymore.” You admitted when he’d asked you to let him take you out for the thousandth time. 

“Too many bad experiences?” He questions.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You frowned, thinking back on a few of them.

Eventually, he slowly started to break down your walls and swore he’d change your mind. Even went so far as to listen to your worries and promised to face them with you.. 

But here he was, using them against you; just like everyone else did. 

What you didn’t know, the moment you were out of sight, the man that you had left standing there turned to his assistant on his right, 

“Ryan, was that the woman arguing with Cole?”

“Indeed, sir. Would you like her banned from stadium grounds for speaking to you like that?” Ryan asks, pulling his phone from his jacket.

“On the contrary, Ryan.” I intend to put a smile back on her face. “Please, get me her information.”

“Right away, Mr. Styles.”

Getting back to your apartment was a task in and of itself, considering it's hard to see when you’re bawling your eyes out. Walking in, you’re immediately met with the dread of Jackson eventually coming home. 

You shed yourself of your jacket, and set your keys down on the counter. Glancing around the kitchen, you stop your gaze on the vase of flowers that was delivered to you just two mornings ago. Approaching the counter, you pick up the card stuck to the front of the vase.

“Saw these and thought of you. Hope they brighten your day a little. Have a great day, my love. -Jackson”

What had happened in the last two days?

What had happened since this morning? 

You sat there immediately picking apart every interaction you’ve had with him over the time span.. You thought everything was fine. He usually loved your playful banter. He never complained before about your snide tongue when it came to him. He claimed it was one of his favorite things about you.. 

What changed since this morning?

“Okay, tough guy, I get it, you’re the boss.” You chuckle, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Although you don’t make it very far before you’re tugged right back down, being caged in by the man above you, sending you into a fit of giggles

“Oh, princess, I don't think you do.” Jackson says, sliding his hand up your side before settling on the side of your neck.

“Princess? Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to be a prince?”

“Does that bother you?” He questions.

“Well, considering you’re more of a frog than a prince, I don’t think it’s very accurate”

“What did you just call me?” He asks, wrapping his fingers lightly around the front of your throat. A sly smile forms on his face at the feeling of your breath hitching beneath his fingertips.

“A frog. Do you want me to spell it for you, baby?” You quip, smirking as you feel him increase the pressure on the sides of your throat.

“You’re going to forget how to spell your own name by the time I'm done with you, brat.”

“Mm, is that a threat or a promise, tough guy?” You challenge, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair.

“I’ll let you decide, princess.” He says, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

Normally he could go back and forth with you without a thought. Did he not find it playful anymore? Was he repulsed by you now? Did he really want to find someone else? 

He was fine this morning! 

You were driving yourself crazy. You weren’t sure you wanted to fight anymore. Not just fight with him, but fight for him. You sat back and thought more about what exactly he’d said to you. “Even the other wives and girlfriends ask how I deal with your attitude.”

So were you the topic of conversation a lot? Was your inability to act like the other (mostly) fake girlfriends and wives a problem? 

Were you really that big of a problem? 

You knew you could be a handful, but you never thought it would be like this.

Luckily for you, your bakery still has an apartment unit upstairs. Your old bed was currently calling your name, so, you made a drastic decision at that moment and you were going to stick to it. 

You were going to remove yourself from the situation before it could get turned into anything else. It was time to run. Not that you were going to run far, just away from whatever this was turning into, no matter how much it hurt in this moment  

Eventually, you stood and walked to your shared bedroom. You grabbed your carry-on suitcase, which was always packed for the times you were given no notice about accompanying Jackson to an away game, and you retreated back into the living room.

You grabbed a notebook and a pen from Jackson’s office, and had a seat at the kitchen island. Just as you were about to start writing what you were thinking, the front door swung open and in walked Jackson. 

“H-hey.” you squeaked out, dropping your pen on the counter.

“Mm, hey.” he responds, dropping his bag on the counter next to you. He walks towards the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and walking back to be across from you at the island. 

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding his chin towards the open notebook in front of you, seeing “Jackson,” written at the top. “You writing me an apology letter?”

You scoffed, “I’m sorry?”

“Well that’s a start. Keep going.” He grins.

“I’m not, that’s no-“ you start, but his anger bubbles over and he’s already interrupting you, waving his hand in the air to silence you.

“You’re going to sit there and tell me that you’re not going to apologize to me? For causing a scene in front of my teammates? In front of Coach? The owner? The other girlfriends?” 

“Is that what this is about? What other people think of me? You’re always bringing up what the other girlfriends think.” Tears begin welling in the corners of your eyes, once again.

It is true that you’re nothing like the other girlfriends and wives of the players. Most of them are that cookie cutter, instagram influencer type. Meanwhile, your instagram is full of cakes, and cookies, and other endless pastries. The ones you spend 70% of your life perfecting to sell in your bakery. So what you tend you keep to yourself? It’s better than hanging around the Brittany’s and the Madison’s (no hate, ya'lls names just got a bad rep) all the time and hearing gossip about people you don’t know, or care about. You keep it curtly polite in public and mind your business in private. What’s so wrong with that?

“Some of them think you’re rude.”

“Some of them need to get a sense of humor.” You mumble, fidgeting in your seat.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You have no idea how irritating you are. It’s like you constantly have to have the last word.” He all but yells, pointer finger in your face. “And don’t get me started on the constant need for reassurance. You have no idea how exhausting that is. You’re just so.. negat-“

“That’s enough. You’re actually insane.” You interrupted, standing to leave. 

He was just trying to dig the knife in at this point. The thoughts of the argument in the stadium corridor long gone.

Jackson notices your carry-on settled by your feet. “What’re you doing with that?” he asks, standing from his seat.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you say, grabbing the handle “You said yourself you thought finding someone else was a good idea, so i’m doing the hard part for you. Now you can go get one of those other professional girlfriends that you seem to want so bad.” 

With every word you said, he slowly got closer to you, each word irritating him further. Once he reaches you, his hands grip your shoulders, spinning you to face him.

“I don’t know where you seem to get off,” he starts, grasping your chin in a firm hold, “but this attitude of yours stops today. Do I make myself clear? I’ve given you everything. The least you could do is act a little grateful.” He states, dropping his hold on your chin. He maneuvers himself around you, grabbing the handle of your carry-on, but you don’t let go.

“I’m through being talked to this way.” You say, yanking your carry-on towards you. “You knew how I was from the beginning. If you didn’t like the way I was, you shouldn’t have pursued me.”

“You don’t have anywhere to go. You’re too.. rough to be loved by anyone else. I’m the best thing you’ve got.” He says pulling the suitcase back towards him. “I’ll just have to shape you into the person you should be.”

You’re just having a full on tug of war game at this point. “Do you even hear yourself? The person I should be? What is that supposed to mean?”

“More.. obedient. You constantly embarrass me with your attitude in front of people. Important people, might I add.”

“Jackson, you really are insane. You think that just because you’re some big shot quarterback that you have any right to treat me this way?”

“Treat you what way? The same way you treat me?” He sneers, moving closer to tower over you.

“If you think me teasing you about forgetting your fucking practice bag all the time is the same as using my genuine fears and anxieties against me then you really are insane. Keep the suitcase then.” You say, letting go as he’s pulling it again.

You’d find a way to replace everything you’d be leaving behind.

“If you walk out that door, you’re done; we’re done.” Jackson says as he’s hot on your trail.

“Is that a promise?” You ask before slamming the door behind you.

You were startled by the sound of shattering glass. Knowing Jackson, he’d just sent the vase of flowers that adorned the counter straight into the door as you slammed it shut.

Assuming this, only solidified your decision further. 

You were done. 

With relationships. 

For good.

Right?

a/n 2.0: thank you for reading this far! I honestly can't believe all of these words came from the thing inside my skull! I swear that thing is broken more often than not.. but seriously! thank you for reading! please go give my dear @freedomfireflies some love from me as well <3

please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[velvetballaspark]

I LOVED THIS. Great writing and great set up for a story. Also FUCK Jackson. He’s just a few steps away from becoming physically violent from her. Good for her for getting away from that fucker.

PSA: anyone who says “no one else will love you” (or any variation of that expression) is emotionally abusive. RUN. There’s no excuse. None. There’s literally nothing that can justify someone saying that to you. No situation or circumstance. It’s a manipulation tactic used to control and belittle the person it’s directed at.

“Stay away from people who make you feel hard to love”

Can’t wait for the next part<3

[sparkrls]

girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

[velvetballaspark]

This was so wholesome and perfect:( great writing<3

[freedomfireflies-deactivated202]

Insufferable You*

Summary: The third part to Infinite You*

The one where Harry is still in an open relationship with your best friend, so maybe it's time to remind him what he's missing.

Word Count: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, edging, spanking, brief exhibitionism, sir kink, masturbation, brief choking

“Kitten…what are you doing?”

Your whimpers are airy. Light. A string of breathless pleas woven between the soft sounds of your fingers fucking into your cunt. And you can’t answer his question. Can’t find the strength to pull yourself away from the pleasure between your thighs.

“Kitten,” he asks again and it’s firm. “Talk to me.”

He’s panting through his request and the sound—the image in your head of the way he must look, fucking his fist to the melody of your voice almost hurts you.

“I’m…I’m playing with my clit,” you answer. He groans. “Just like you do.”

“Just like me, hm?” He curses on his end of the phone and your legs shake. “How?”

“M’pinching it,” you tell him. “And pulling it. The way you like.”

His noises are louder. Needier. He must like the image in his head, too. “God, I’d give anything to see it, baby. Give fucking anything to watch you touch yourself for me.”

Anything. Anything. You shiver. “Yeah? You’d watch me?”

“Mhm.” He’s getting closer and you don’t want this to end. “Sit there on my knees and take every drop in my mouth when you’re done.”

Your hips buck up and your fingers sink deeper. He ruins you even when he’s not here. “I know,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut. “And I’d let you.”

He makes a sound that might be a laugh but could be a strained moan. You aren’t sure. But you don’t really care because it’s beautiful, no matter what it is. “Kitten,” he exhales and your insides twist. “I need you to cum for me, okay? I need to hear you. God, I need to fucking hear you, baby, let me. Come on—”

There’s something in the way he speaks. Like he’s just woken up. Rough and low and thick. He sounds like sex and you miss hearing it in person. But you were desperate—you had to call him. You had to hear him talk you through this moment and you’re so glad you did.

When you cum, it’s everything. Perhaps not as satisfying as when it’s with him, but still euphoric. And your whimpers of pleasure are what send him over the edge.

The phone fills with the sounds of your ecstasy and you wish you could record the way he moans your name. You wish you could bottle this feeling and get drunk on the way he adores you. 

Instead, you indulge in the few moments you have with him. Because you know they won’t last much longer.

“That was good,” you tell him breathlessly and he chuckles. “How are you so good at that? Even over the phone?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Now I’ve got a sticky hand and nobody to clean it up.”

You pout. “Stop, don’t tell me that. It’s not fair.”

He laughs again. “Sorry, Kitten. Couldn’t help it. You all right? You feel better?”

“I do. Thank you for letting me call you.”

“Always.”

Your heart skips. “So…what are you up to today?”

There’s a pause. A long pause and you know what he’s going to say even before he says it. “Rebecca and I are running some errands.”

“Oh.” Oh. Your throat goes dry. “Right…sorry, I’m…you probably need to go, don’t you?”

Another pause. “In a bit,” he says. “After I make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say far too quickly. And far too obviously forced. “Yeah, no, I’m…duh. Obviously I’m okay now. After…yeah. Okay, sorry. You can…I’ll talk to you later—"

“Kitten.”

You stop. “What? I’m…I’m letting you go—”

“Don’t. I want to talk to you a little longer.”

“But you’re busy—”

“It can wait.”

Swallowing, you whisper, “Harry, I’m…I’m just saying—”

“So am I.” He’s firm again. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away because of her. We can talk. I promise.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. You force the tears back. Why does orgasming make you so emotional? “I know, I just…she’s there, isn’t she?”

Another beat. “Not in the room.”

“But she’s there. In the apartment. Near you.”

“Yes.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “See, that’s…that’s why I’m letting you go. So you can be with her. Okay? I’ll talk to you later—”

“Kitten.”

“Harry.” You huff if only to make yourself sound stronger than you feel. “I’m okay. You can go.”

“You’re not okay. You’re sad.”

“I’m…no, I’m not sad, I’m just…I’m tired. I came really hard.”

“I know you.”

“Well…you don’t know me that well. Cause I’m fine.”

“Baby—”

“Just go,” you insist. “I promise I’m okay as long as you are. I shouldn’t have called so early anyway, that was…I’m sorry. That was my mistake—”

“You can call when she’s here, you know that—”

“But I don’t want to.”

Another long pause that feels like an eternity. “Okay,” he finally murmurs and you pull the phone away to take in a shaky breath. “But I want your honesty. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you really okay?”

Truthfully, you don’t know. “Yeah, I’m fine. Swear. Thanks for helping me. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You will,” he agrees. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Rebecca’s dinner.”

Fuck. You forgot. “Oh…right—”

“You’ll be there. Right?”

It doesn’t really feel like you have a choice. “I…I don’t know yet, I might be busy—”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that. I could have plans.”

“You do. With us.”

Us. Your nose scrunches. “I mean other plans—”

“You don’t.”

“I might—”

“You don’t. If you did, I’d know.”

“Well, that’s presumptuous.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. Because you talk to me. When I ask you a question, you answer honestly. You’re a good girl. I know you.”

Your chest feels tight again. “Well, I don’t tell you everything.”

“You should.”

“You don’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t ask.”

He’s right. You never ask him anything personal because honestly, you’re afraid of what he’ll say.

“Fine,” you agree. “I’ll be there. Are we done?”

He waits a moment before saying, “We’re not done. We’ll discuss this later. But for right now, yes.”

And even if he sounds a bit strict, you can’t help smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mm. That’s my girl. Take it easy today, all right?”

“I will.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, Kitten.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

He chuckles and you hang up and even despite everything else…you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, my god. He does. Every time. He’s got such a weird thing with feet.”

You laugh. “It wasn’t so bad at first. But then he got a little too comfortable—”

“No, he does that. He really does.” Rebecca smirks as she throws the freshly chopped carrots into her pot. “And it started out cute, but now…”

You both glance into the living room where Harry is relaxing on the sofa. He’s smiling as he watches the two of you work on the food and even if he can’t hear you, he must know you’re talking about him.

“It’s still cute,” you argue in his defense. “Gross…but cute.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess he can be cute when he wants to be.”

You grin together and this feels good. You’ve missed your friend. You’ve missed having someone to laugh with, gossip with. And maybe it was strange at first, to come into their apartment and talk to your best friend about sleeping with her boyfriend.

But after a minute or two, you settled right back into the familiar rhythm of your friendship. And it almost felt…normal. 

“Has he done the thing where his left leg starts to shake when he gets overstimulated?” she asks and you nearly snort. 

“Oh, my god. Yes. The other day. I thought he was having a heart attack.”

“It’s the funniest thing. It just started, too. Couple years ago. He swears it doesn’t but like…I can see it.”

“It’s quite the tell,” you agree and you can’t help the way your eyes drift back to where he’s lounging on the sofa.

He notices and smirks at you.

“What?” you call.

He shrugs. “Nothing. You girls are cute, that’s all.”

“Bite me,” Rebecca says and he chuckles. “We’re not cute. We’re hot.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. He leans forward. “Let me guess. You’re telling her about the leg thing?”

“Yup. And I was right,” she says smugly. “She sees it, too.”

His eyes roll but he smiles at you. “It’s not that bad—”

“No, it is,” she argues. “You look like a dog. A very cute dog, but still.”

He laughs a little louder and you’re almost jealous of their dynamic. A dynamic you’ve been witness to for almost five years. And it’s never made you jealous before.

But now…

She puts the soup on simmer and grabs your hand to lead you to the living room. “I told you we were gonna gossip about you,” she reminds him. “All good things, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles at you both as you take a seat on the sofa. She flops down right beside him while you cautiously sit on the other end. Exactly where you’d been that first day you agreed to this arrangement. “This is nice,” he says.

She hums. “Yeah, it feels like old times.” She glances toward you. “And it’s not weird…is it? I mean, you feel okay?”

Feeling a little hot under the spotlight, you swallow and force a quick shake of your head. “No, this is…it’s good. This is fun.”

However, she knows you better than anyone and her brows pull together as she studies you. “Do you have any questions? Or anything we can clear up?”

“Uh…I don’t know.” Truthfully, you don’t want to ask. “Is it…is it weird for you guys?”

They both shake their heads, almost as if in sync, and you resist the urge to scrunch your nose.

“Do you…have any regrets?”

“No,” she says and Harry agrees. “None. Do you?”

“No,” you echo. “No, I just…I don’t know. This still kind of feels like cheating.”

They exchange a glance and your heart skips. You’re even jealous of the way they look at each other.

“Rebecca and I have always agreed that whatever the other decides to do is their business,” Harry says. “As long as we communicate, there's freedom there. No judgment, no expectations, no regret.”

“And no jealousy,” she adds, offering you a soft smile. “Or shame. Or anything like that.”

You nod and pick at a loose string on your jeans. “And are you two…I mean do you still…”

“No,” she assures you and you’re thankful she figured out what you meant. “No, we haven’t in a few weeks.”

“Oh…because of me?”

She shakes her head while Harry says, “Not entirely. Most of it is for safety reasons. Keeping things clean and respectful. But it’s also one of our rules.”

“Rules?”

“We have a few rules we like to follow,” she explains. “It just makes it easier. Sometimes it can be tricky and this helps keep us on the same page.”

“And no sex is one of them?”

“Kind of. We don’t sleep together if one of us is seeing someone else. Well, no penetration, anyway.”

You hate the way your stomach sinks. “Oh. And…do you date other people…a lot?”

He looks over at her and she thinks. “Not…really?” she says. “I don’t think, anyway.”

“Jack was the last guy you were with, right?” Harry asks and she snaps her fingers.

“Jack. Right. Yeah. He was cute. And then yours was…Angie? I think?”

He nods. “Last year.”

“She was nice.”

“She was…sure. Yeah. She was nice.”

Rebecca laughs and he grins proudly, happy to have made her laugh. Your nose scrunches.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Rebecca argues. “She was just put in a weird position.”

“Literally and figuratively.”

She smacks his arm playfully and he pinches her thigh. You want to look away. 

“Either way,” she finally says, “we don’t very often. And I don’t think of it as cheating. Especially not with you. Because I know he’s a good partner and I know that you deserve someone as kind as he is.” 

He gives her a grateful grin before returning his attention to you. “We can stop if you want. Because I agree with Bex. I wouldn’t want to lose you as my friend and if you feel pressured or unsure—”

“I don’t,” you nearly rush to argue. “No, I don’t, I…I’m just really struggling with the dynamics of it. I guess.”

“Trust me, I get it,” she says gently. “It was a bit of a learning curve for us, too. Harry can get incredibly jealous.”

You’re tempted to tell her that you already know but you watch his reaction instead.

His eyes roll but then his stare returns to you and he winks, as though he’s recalling the same memory you are. 

It makes your skin feel warm.

“Oop, hold on. I gotta check the soup,” Rebecca suddenly exclaims before jumping off the sofa to rush back to the kitchen.

And now left alone together, your attention is drawn back to the tall, handsome man you can already feel staring at you.

“Any more questions?” he asks softly. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and somehow, even that makes you feel safer. 

“Just one,” you murmur and he nods. “Does this mean you and I are…dating? Or are we just fucking until I can find somebody else?”

There’s a slight edge in your voice that you hadn’t meant to be there, but he picks up on it instantly.

“Are you looking for somebody else?” he asks.

“Not really. But this whole thing started because you both felt bad for me,” you remind him. “And it’s been a lot of fun. Honestly. But you are kind of on loan. I just…I’m not sure what this makes our situation. If we’re just fucking…or more.”

He takes a moment to think about his answer, eyes flicking between yours almost as though studying you. “Would you like there to be more?”

You bite back huff. He’s very good at redirecting. “I don’t know. Would you?”

“I think more can get complicated.”

Your feel your expression fall. “Right.”

“And I don’t want to lose you from my life for good,” he continues. “You know that. Neither of us want to lose you—”

“Right, yeah. It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

He’s frowning now. “Kitten, don’t do that—”

“No, really,” you argue. “It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s just keep it like this until I can find somebody else.”

The frown turns into a glare. “Kitten—”

“Okay, soup is almost done,” Rebecca announces as she returns. This time she sits next to you and throws an arm around your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

The tension is palpable. You speak first. “I was just telling Harry that I might not need his services much longer.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows raise while Harry’s scowl deepens.

“Oh?” she asks.

You nod. “Well, seeing as we don’t want to do anything to ruin the friendship…I thought I’d give Ethan a call.”

It’s mean and perhaps a bit cruel, but you can’t help yourself. You aren’t trying to hurt him. Because he is right. And don’t want to lose him for good, either, and all this evening has truly done is prove how close he and Rebecca actually are.

You’ll never be able to compete with five years of love and affection. And maybe you don’t want to.

Maybe it’s time to move on.

“Ethan?” Harry repeats while Rebecca perks up.

“Yes,” she squeals excitedly. “Oh, I was hoping you would. He’s so nice, I think you guys would be perfect together.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a pointed look at Harry. “I think so, too.”

He knows what you’re doing. You can tell. And he’s oddly calm as he leans against the cushions and tosses his arms over the back of the couch. “And who the fuck is this Ethan?”

“Guy from my work,” you answer, equally as calm. “Nice. He’s been asking me out for a while.”

“A while.”

“Yeah, a while.”

His brows furrow. “So why do you want to go out with him now?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “He was never really my type before but we’ve gotten closer recently. I think it’s only fair I give him a real chance.”

“Really?” He’s curious. Maybe skeptical. “Now?”

You nod. “That way the three of us can preserve our friendship. Since that is the most important thing.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Rebecca tells you and hugs you to her side. “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.”

You grin and it’s all teeth. “I will.”

Dinner is nice. Tense but nice. You and Harry spend a majority of the meal exchanging icy glances and keeping to yourselves, leaving Rebecca to do most of the conversing.

And she doesn’t seem to notice. That or she merely pretends not to. She catches you up on some drama at work. Teases Harry about his sleep talking. Says she’s planning to visit her parents in a few weeks and then gives you the recipe for the soup.

And you and Harry nod politely, despite the unspoken rage from your ends of the table.

When dinner is finished, Harry offers to clean up and do the dishes. She kisses him on the cheek gratefully and says she’s gonna go take a quick shower since she’s got an early day tomorrow. She tells you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like and then she hugs you tightly and whispers, “I’m so glad we’re still friends.”

You hug her back and agree.

The moment she’s gone, Harry sets down his sponge and turns to you. “Come here.”

You hesitate by the front door, itching to escape. But he’s firm as he watches you from the sink, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched, leaving you no choice but to listen.

“Kitten,” he repeats. Lower. Sterner. “Come. Here.”

You take a tentative step toward him. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Kitten.”

You huff and throw your purse back down. “I really don’t think we need to—”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m telling you that we’re gonna have a chat and you’re gonna come in here like a good fucking girl and talk to me.”

This is how he gets you. This is how he pulls your strings and turns you around until you obediently join him in the kitchen. Like a good fucking girl.

Satisfied, he leans back against the counter. “Now. What’s this Ethan shit you pulled?”

“It’s not shit, it’s real,” you huff. “He really did ask me out and I really am going to say yes.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He wasn’t my type—”

“No, I want the real answer.”

You frown. “That is the real answer—”

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not. And you know it.”

You cross your arms and look down at your shoes. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He wasn’t my type but now he is.”

The argument lulls and the small kitchen falls silent. You hear him sigh and it almost hurts to hear how heavy his disappointment hangs.

But a moment later, he’s slipping his fingers beneath your chin and raising your eyes to his. They’re soft. Serene. Filled with everything he can’t seem to find the words to say and you hate how quickly your body begins to crave him.

“You aren’t being honest with me, baby,” he murmurs. Your lashes flutter. “You aren’t communicating with me. And I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say and he sighs like he knows this is a lie. “Really, I just…I know myself. If I don’t put a bit of distance between us…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe on my own.”

This makes him sad and it hurts you to know you’ve made him sad. “Kitten,” he whispers. He steps closer until his chest is brushing against yours. “If I’m doing something wrong—”

“You’re not. That’s the problem.” You swallow and he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “You’re doing everything right and I’m worried I’m gonna want you in ways that I shouldn’t.”

“Do you not want to want me?”

“Not…like that,” you admit. “Not when you’re still hers.”

He frowns. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about anyone else—”

“But I do. Because at the end of the day, you’re still her Harry. You’re on loan to me until one of you decides you shouldn’t be anymore—”

“Kitten—”

“And I can’t be with you in any way but physically. You said so yourself. More would get complicated and even if you wanted to be with me…I don’t think I could share you.”

 He considers this. A long moment passes. “So you’re punishing me,” he says. “You’re going out with this Ethan guy to prove that you don’t need me.”

“What? No.” You lean back but he doesn’t let go of your chin. “I mean…okay, maybe I wanted to piss you off a little but I really do think I need to be with someone else in order to truly move on. I’m not punishing you. I’m…obeying you. If anything.”

He scoffs. “If you really wanted to obey me, you would have talked to me about what you were feeling.”

“I tried. You said more would get complicated.”

“It could. There’s always that risk. But I never said it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So…what? You’d date me?”

“Of course.”

The answer is quick and it surprises you but it doesn’t seem to surprise him.

You blink. “You…really? You would date me? Like…officially?”

“I would.”

“And…what about Rebecca?”

“What about her?”

“You’d…you’d still be with her? Right? Even if we were together?”

He seems to know what you’re implying and sighs quietly. “Yes. I would.”

“And even if you weren’t…I’m assuming you would still want to be in an open relationship with me?”

Another pause. “Probably,” he admits, and even if you knew it was coming, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. “That’s just the agreement I’ve always felt most comfortable with—”

“And that’s fine. I get it,” you assure him. You sniffle and he seems to wilt. “Really. I just…like I said, I don’t do well with sharing and if…if all we’re doing is fucking, I might as well just find somebody else, right? So that way the three of us can stay friends. And it doesn’t have to get weird.”

“I understand,” he says and you know he does. “I do, Kitten. And I would never keep you in a relationship you’re not comfortable in.” A beat. “But I can’t say that I like the idea of you going out with this guy.”

You smile. Gently. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He looks down at you and takes your cheek in his hand. “You’re my girl,” he says. “No matter what. If you’re with me or not with me. You’re my fucking girl. And he doesn’t deserve even a second of your time.”

You fight a large grin and cling to his shirt. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because.” You play with his buttons. “You don’t get to be jealous when you’re still with her.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like seeing you with someone else.”

You pout. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“I know.” He brings his lips to yours. They hover—close—but never make contact. “I can’t help it. Can’t ever seem to help it when it comes to you.”

You want to push up and take his kiss, but he teases you just a little longer. “Harry—”

“Do you know that, Kitten?” His hands drop to your waist and he squeezes. Even though Rebecca is only two rooms away. Even though you can hear her humming in the bath. Even though he can never be yours. “Do you know how much I think about you?”

You swallow. Thick.

“How I think about the way you asked me to take care of you…” He ghosts his mouth down your neck. “The way you begged me to be rough….to spank you. Choke you. Degrade you.”

His voice is a sin and your eyes fall shut.

“Do you want me to degrade you, baby?” His fingers slip beneath your shirt. “Do you want me to pull you on my lap and spank you until you’re crying?”

The image in your head is somehow even better than his taunting. Your knees about buckle. “Harry…”

“You can find somebody else if you want to,” he whispers. “But do you really think they’ll be able to care of you the way I do? The way you want? The way you deserve?” 

His kisses find your chest while his knee slots between your thighs.

“I know how naughty you really are, baby girl,” he says and it’s over. “He will never know.” 

You grab his hair and he grabs your hips and you’re on the counter before you can even whisper his name. He pushes the hem of your dress up and guides your legs apart. He makes a home there, finger curling around the crotch of your panties in order to get a taste and it’s magic. Always.

And he does this to you only a few hundred feet away from where his girlfriend is innocently taking a shower. He does this, knowing she could walk out and see. He does this and you let him do this because there is no world in which you stop him.

“Harry,” you say—whimper—and he hums. His tongue licks up your cunt and your head drops back. “Har—wait—”

He doesn’t. He holds your thighs beside his cheeks and he sucks on your clit until you begin to squirm. “You promised to stay for dessert,” he says. “This is my dessert.”

The sounds are loud and beautiful and his curls feel good in your hands. You feel good in his.

Things fall to the ground. Bowls, pots, containers. He grins. He likes this, the danger. And he knows you like it, too. Because if you really wanted him to stop, he would. 

But you don’t. And you yank him closer to your pussy as though this will be the last time he ever gets a taste.

And deep down, you wonder if it is.

Either way, you enjoy his tongue and his lips and the tip of his nose that nudges your clit so expertly. You wonder how it’s possible to be so addicted to a man you’re not even with. A man that only recently started fucking you and a man that you’ve only ever considered a friend.

Part of you wants to get caught. Part of you wants things to implode. To believe that he’s doing this because he wants her to find out. Because what would happen if she saw? What would happen if he realized he wanted to end things? Would he be yours? Would he decide that your time and your heart and your pussy were infinitely more important than his sexual prowess?

You scrunch your nose. These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn’t work like that. He never has and you can’t expect something from him that he won’t ever give you.

You return your focus to him. To the way his large hands are curling around your thighs and hoisting them up on the counter. You love his hands. You think they might be your favorite hands in the world.

They’re so gentle but strong. Practiced. You know they’d look good anywhere on your body. Your thighs, your chest, your throat…

You whimper at the thought and he glances up. He’s proud again. Drenched in your arousal and the evidence of your lust for him.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg and nips. He leaves marks and memories along the soft skin and you can’t wait to stare at them whenever he’s not around. The way he makes you his in the only way he can.

And you’re so close. You aren’t even sure how he got you here so quickly but he always seems to. And you don’t mind. Instead, you fist his hair and you buck against his tongue and he’s going to make you cum all over his girlfriend’s kitchen counter.

And then he stops.

He stops, he lets you go, and he pulls away.

Your heart drops to your toes as the orgasm fizzles down to nothing. “What…what are you—"

“Get down,” he says curtly. He slaps your outer thigh. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going. And you don’t ask. Instead, you watch as he wipes his mouth and disappears from the kitchen to wait by the front door.

After straightening your dress and readjusting your underwear, you scurry to his side with a fretful glance toward the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you tell her you’re going?”

He smiles. “She’ll figure it out.”

With that, you leave their apartment so he can take you back to your place and he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole drive. You wonder if he merely wants to keep some sort of claim on you or if it’s habit. 

Either way, his thumb rubs circles into your skin, right over the dark spots made by his lips and you smile. You want to lace your fingers with his. Want to hold his hand and pretend like the two of you are on your way home from a date. To pretend like this is normal—an everyday occurrence.

But you lose your nerve and soon, he’s pulling into the parking lot.  

“I want you upstairs,” he says and gives you a pointed look. “On the bed. Naked. And waiting for me by the time I come up.”

You nod quickly. “Okay. Are…am I in trouble—”

“That depends on if you obey.” He unlocks the door. “So let’s hope you do.”

Swallowing a giddy grin, you scurry from the vehicle and into your building. You don’t bother with tidying up or adjusting your appearance. You run straight into your bedroom, rip off your clothes, and spread out into a starfish position on the bed.

You hear him follow not much later. Slow, deliberate steps. Meant to taunt you, tease you. Make your stomach flip. And it works.

When you see his tall, muscular figure in the doorway, your pulse skips.

Smiling, you call, “Hi, Sir—”

“No speaking,” he says shortly. “Unless I say otherwise. Is that understood?”

“Yes—no—sorry, I’m…” You stop. Nod. 

He frowns but you know it’s only to hide a smirk. “Don’t test me, Kitten. You’ve already done that enough this evening, have you not?”

Another nod.

“And you knew better, didn’t you?” He walks into the room and begins to unzip his jeans. “Knew better than to dangle fucking Ethan in my face.”

You nod again but your eyes are trained on his hands. On the fingers that pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

“And you fucking knew…that if I got a taste of such a sweet pussy…I’d never stop,” he murmurs. He crawls onto the bed, wearing nothing more than his briefs. “That I’d forgive you. And let you off the hook.”

You don’t nod this time. You can’t. You’re too far gone in the lust in his eyes. The gentle green that’s now dangerous and luring you in.

“Well,” he whispers and then he smiles. “You thought wrong.”

He grabs your thighs and flips you over. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, head spinning, while a large palm comes down in a sharp smack to your ass.

You jolt. Shriek. 

“Easy,” he says and he’s kinder now. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good little whore, aren’t you?”

Now you understand. You see. And you settle onto the bed as he smooths the stinging print with the soft of his hand. 

You nod.

“Good.” He spanks you again. “I think we should do one for every time you lied to me. For every time I asked for the truth…and you refused to give it to me.”

Your lashes flutter. You suppose that’s only fair, although in your defense, the truth would have only hurt him.

“Let’s see…we’ll start with five,” he says and you exhale a sigh of relief. “Because I know you don’t mean to be a bad girl, do you?”

You whimper.

“You want to be good. Want to behave for me.” He spanks you. Number three. “You want a lot of things from me, don’t you? And maybe I’m bad, too. For not being able to give them to you.”

The air in the room shifts and you attempt to glance back.

However, he lays another firm smack to your ass before you can and then squeezes your hip. “Come on, you’re almost done,” he coos. A beat passes. “Do you remember me mentioning the traffic light system?”

You nod.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for good, keep going?”

Nod.

“Good. Then I want you to use your words and tell me what color you are right now. Honestly.”

“Green,” you whisper, then clear your throat and speak louder. “I’m green. Honestly.”

He hums. “And you’re gonna take your last strike, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna thank me for being so generous to such a selfish fucking whore?”

Your cheeks flush. Oh, he’s very good. “Yes, Sir.”

You still can’t see him but you can imagine his grin.

The last spank of his hand lands against your tender skin and somehow…it feels good. There’s something delicious about his pain. About the way he inflicts it. The way your body responds to it.

You groan—moan—and finally manage, “Thank you, Sir.”

He purrs something devious as he strokes the spot and begins to kiss his way up your spine. “Good fucking girl,” he breathes. The exhale of his praise dances across your back and you shiver. “Took your punishment so well. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Bet you even fucking liked, dirty thing. Didn’t you?”

You nod again and feel his knee begin to nudge its way back between your thighs. 

“Let’s check, shall we?” His fingers move now for the mess you already know is there. And when he feels it, he curses. “Fucking shit, Kitten, you’re soaked.”

You are. You are soaked and you’re making a mess of your duvet and his knee and he still hasn’t let you cum yet and you think you might die if he waits any longer. 

“Harry,” you nearly cry. “Please…please…”

He brings his kisses to the back of your neck. To the place below your ear that makes your stomach flip. He kisses. Sucks. Nips and violates the skin with his teeth.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, but only because I know you need it.”

You nod again and begin to turn over. He goes to stop you—he wants to try from behind—but you insist.

“I want to see your face,” you say. “Please, I just…I need that tonight.”

The softness in his eyes and the fall of his expression almost hurts you. You don’t want to cause him pain or confusion. Ever.

But he’s not confused. He understands. And he agrees because maybe he needs it, too.

You pull him out of his briefs and he hikes your leg around his hip. Until the heel of your foot is digging into his ass and pulling him forward.

When he first pushes in, you both take a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of your bodies connecting.

Harry was once your best friend and now he’s something else entirely. A completely different entity and you never imagined you’d see his cock disappearing into your cunt but now you don’t want to imagine his cock anywhere else.

When he’s about halfway in, he pulls back out and begins a steady pace. He’s large and he knows you need a moment or two to find the pleasure before he picks up a faster rhythm. So, he puts the focus on you. On your clit, on your thighs, on the way his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you—soft, sweet. Gentle. And then he kisses your neck. Your chest. Plays with your tits and whispers about how good they feel in his hand.

Then, he buries himself to the hilt as his hips find yours.

You arch and he catches you. There are more kisses, more soft murmurings. And there’s an intimacy here that doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like making love, a term you once scoffed at but now indulge in. Because maybe he does love you, in the only way he knows how. Maybe he does choose your body over hers. Maybe this was the best thing that ever could have happened to you. 

You grab his hand and bring it to your throat. Pointed enough that he knows what you want and after a quick glance for consent…he squeezes.

Your lashes flutter and you press on his knuckles. Harder. He obeys.

And you were right. His hand does look good on your body. A necklace to wear proudly and he whispers your name before tightening his grip and allowing the sides of your sanity to go fuzzy before loosening his fingers. 

You breathe. Deep. The air tastes like him and you love it.

He smiles. “You okay?”

“More than okay. That was…shit, I really like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably cause you’re doing it.”

He uses this hold to kiss you and it’s a mess of tongues and spit and loud sucking. It makes you giggle.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” he suddenly whispers.

“Well, I prefer you hard.”

He smirks, but this is not what he means. “I want this to work.”

“I know. I do, too.”

He surges forward—a sharp thrust. “It can’t work if Ethan’s in the picture.”

Oh. “Why? Because you need room for Rebecca?”

He sighs and you hate how sad it sounds. “I know I’m not being fair—”

“You’re not.”

“I can’t help it—”

“Well, neither can I.”

He stops for a moment and looks at you. “You have every right to go out with him. I know that. But I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you do.” He continues to roll his body against yours and you want to purr. “So I want to make a deal.”

“Okay…”

“If you go out with Ethan, you go out with me,” he says. “If you date him, you date me. And I’ll play nice. I’ll share. But only until you realize he’s a waste of time.

You run your fingers along his shoulders. Along his back. Along the curve of his ass. You think about his proposition. It sounds good, it does. A way to keep him while also keeping your options open. 

Because maybe this way, it won’t hurt so much when he still goes home to her.

“Can I think about it?” you ask. 

He kisses you. “Of course. Always.”

You resume the languid but fervent pace he previously set. He squeezes your neck whenever he wants to hear you whimper and you scratch your nails down his spine whenever you want him to groan.

And it’s perfect. Truly. Because while you’re on this date with Ethan, he’ll be able to see the marks Harry left on your throat.

And when Harry goes back to Rebecca, she’ll see the scratches down his back made by your hands.

You can’t help but feel satisfied with the idea and it brings you that much closer as Harry presses your hips to the bed and begins to fuck into you harder.

He readjusts his stance above you, knees deep into the mattress and hands clutching the sheets beside your waist. And every thrust is purposeful. Hard. Beautiful. The sounds are symphonic and when you look down to see, you nearly mewl. The way his cock is absolutely fucking covered in you, slipping in and out of your cunt with ease and determination. 

He’s beautiful when he’s focused. When he’s about to cum. You just want to kiss him and hold him and love him and be his.

And you fucking hate it.

“Need you to cum, baby,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “Can you do that?”

“Yes….yes, Sir,” you stammer, already feeling the overwhelming power creep up your thighs. “I’m…I—”

“I know. I know, come on—”

You do. Just like that. Unravel like a spool of thread and dissolve into nothing but pleasure beneath him.

But you don’t feel him follow. In fact, he continues fucking you through your high until he suddenly pulls out and comes all over your swollen pussy.

It’s the most mesmerizing thing you think you’ve ever seen. The sticky substance paints your cunt in masterful strokes. Glistening from your body, your clit, your thighs like stars.

And you want to be disappointed that he didn’t finish inside but soon you understand why.

He takes your hand. Moves it closer and presses your fingers into the mess. 

“Touch it,” he whispers. “Fuck it back in.”

Your eyes widen. He smiles but the look in his eye is mischievous and deranged.

“Go on, Kitten,” he says. “I wanna watch.”

Your arms are shaking. In fact, every part of you is still shaking from your orgasm but you obey. You slowly—very slowly—begin to circle your touch around your clit. Feeling the way it nearly throbs as you stimulate it. As you force it into more pleasure.

Harry’s attention is glued to the show before him as he swallows thickly and you swear you can almost see his heart beating against his chest like a cartoon.

You move down. Collect as many drops of him as you can and slowly begin to ease two fingers into your fluttering hole.

When you reach the knuckle, you gasp and he exhales. 

It’s perfect.

He scoots back until he can lay on his stomach and place his cheek against your thigh. Close. Close enough that you can feel his breath fan across your hand.

And he watches. Happy. A lazy smile on those beautiful, pink lips. Lashes fluttering every time you whimper or whine.

“I…I can’t,” you whisper. The sensations are too strong. You’ve already cum once, you can’t possibly cum again so soon.

He hums. “Yes, you can. Let me see, baby. Let me watch.”

And you almost want to be embarrassed but something else seems to take over your mind entirely and you can’t help but go faster.

You pinch and curl and flex. You push his offering as far into you as you can reach and then you push in a little more. And it’s easier this time, even if it almost hurts. But you cum. You do, right in front of his very eyes until he’s quickly grabbing hold of you as though he’s desperate to be closer.

You’re more than a puddle this time. You’re practically limp but you’re also so incredibly happy. And he smiles brightly as he pulls your fingers away and puts them in his mouth.

You don’t even have the energy to make a noise this time. You merely watch him—content—until he starts kissing down your palm, along your arm, and to your chest.

Then, he pulls you into his embrace and you both indulge in a moment of peace. 

You’re both quiet for a while. Even after your heartbeat has steadied. Even after the sweat on your skin has dried and the room no longer feels so warm. 

You run your fingers down his torso. Along the dips and curves of his muscles that seem more defined every time you see him. 

“You’re insufferable,” you finally say and he laughs. The sound bounces between the walls of your room—joyous and unencumbered—and it makes you giddy. He doesn’t laugh like this for her. “What? You are.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Another beat. Longer.

Then, you whisper, “Okay.”

He looks down. “Okay?”

“I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Really?” He’s grinning again. Big.

“Mhm. As long as I get to keep you in some way…maybe it’ll be worth it.”

He seems to sadden at the use of the word maybe, but he brushes it off before you can comment on it. Instead, he pulls you closer and kisses you hard. Forever. 

And maybe…this won’t be so bad.

Previous Part:

~ Insatiable You* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921

[velvetballaspark]

FIRST THINGS FIRST.

I'm obsessed that this was mainly dialogue. Obsessed. Your dialogue is fucking sick and that is a true talent.

I feel it necessary to tell you that I am not usually keen on angst because despite my steely and bad girl reputation (if you can't feel my sarcasm in those words, this is me calling it out) I am actually very SOFT inside and sometimes it's too much for my wee little heart and body to handle.

Despite this being quite angsty, this was one my absolute favorites. This story makes me feel things. Things that maybe live in a grey area of discomfort---like I can't tell if I love it or hate it but that's what draws me to it and makes it worthwhile. Those things in general are the things that are worthwhile, in my opinion. When someone scares you to the point of discomfort. And I'm trying to lean into that and not be defined by the things I'm afraid of. I'm rambling now and I'm sorry but I'M IN MY FEELINGS, OKAY? I digress.

I legitimately had a burning in my nose and my eyes welled up in that first scene when she's trying to get off the phone with him--OH GOD IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN. (I'm obviously going to need to discuss this in length with my therapist because why is that triggering me so hard. Like. Fuck.) But it's the way you write it---it's so natural and authentic, that it genuinely feels like it's me. It feels like how I'd say it--where I'd pause, where I'd stutter, where I'd restart a sentence. (ME ME ME I know and I'm sorry). And I know I've said that before (my first anon to you was about how like, I actually hard a hard time separating myself from Kitten--and that obviously still stands) but it just stings like a motherfucker.

"You're not okay. You're sad." -- Absolutely CHOKED me. Punch to the stomach. Felt like I'm being stabbed. His persistence in this conversation is absolutely gutting. The way he's trying so hard.

Him calling her on her shit and her lying through her teeth, trying to convince him she's okay. I feel so attacked. Have mercy on me 😭

And as a note to the entire part and not just this conversation---it's his pauses that are so telling--that she's forcing him to evaluate his feelings and thoughts. He's so careful with how he responds, because he doesn't want to hurt her. And yet he's honest and straightforward.

As I said before, the dialogue on this one was just so powerful. So incredibly fucking powerful.

The way he's being her dominant and taking care of her through the phone. Telling her to rest, telling her she'll be there--Woof. I do feel bad for kitten. She's in a hell of spot. He makes it so fucking hard. Christ.

And the thing is, you/we/Kitten--we don't want to change him, right? We don't want to make him feel like he has to change. Because he's beautiful as he is--flaws and everything. But the internal tug of war Kitten has in knowing she couldn't share him is shattering. Wanting and loving someone so bad, but understanding that who you are and who they are might just mean you're not compatible. Dude. My heart hurts.

Pausing halfway through because the ending though--like. No. I'm going to tell you now. NO. It can't. PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TO US. (I'm joking of course, please write it however you want to) BUT PLEASE I BEG DON'T DO THIS. It's not enough. "Maybe" NO.

Okay sorry, focus focus focus.

The part where she's sitting on the couch and watching them interact. Every touch. Every laugh. Every grin. And how it hurts her every time to see it. Wow. Yeah... Wow. Just felt like being sliced every time. So that's. Yeah.

Also remind me to ask you about something offline. It's too kinky and I'm too embarrassed to ask publicly HAHAHA

Him not answering her questions directly is so... it's so... UGH IT'S SO HARRY. Truly. The king of vague answers or redirecting.

Also can we pleaseeeeee know what Harry sleeptalks about? Please? I'm dying.

“Kitten,” he repeats. Lower. Sterner. “Come. Here.”

--- the way my eyes widened all doe-like what NO I'M...yeah I'm just a puppy. I'm in trouble. Coming, master.

“No, I want the real answer.”

You frown. “That is the real answer—”

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not. And you know it.”

--- she can't get away with shit and fuck I love and hate him for it 😭

He considers this. A long moment passes. “So you’re punishing me,” he says.

--- this DIALOGUE HOLY SHIT I'm pretty sure my brain rattled

“It could. There’s always that risk. But I never said it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So…what? You’d date me?”

“Of course.”

--- dialogue DIALOGUE DIALOGUE. His unwavering "of course". So certain. I'd be a puddle. This man is so unintentionally cruel.

He looks down at you and takes your cheek in his hand. “You’re my girl,” he says. “No matter what. If you’re with me or not with me. You’re my fucking girl. And he doesn’t deserve even a second of your time.”

--- 😭😭😭😭

Part of you wants to get caught. Part of you wants things to implode. To believe that he’s doing this because he wants her to find out. Because what would happen if she saw? What would happen if he realized he wanted to end things? Would he be yours? Would he decide that your time and your heart and your pussy were infinitely more important than his sexual prowess?

You scrunch your nose. These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn’t work like that. He never has and you can’t expect something from him that he won’t ever give you.

--- How? How did you navigate these thoughts? I'm just... Poof. This was so... real. And I'm sorry for the lackluster word choice--I just can't think of any other way to say it.

"These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn't work like that." Again back to like, we don't want to change him, right? We love him? But WHAT THE FUCK.

“Get down,” he says curtly. He slaps your outer thigh. “We’re leaving.”

--- MUSIC TO OUR EARS. A SYMPHONY. A RESOUNDING CHORUS OF "THANK YOU GOD".

You hear him follow not much later. Slow, deliberate steps. Meant to taunt you, tease you. Make your stomach flip. And it works.

When you see his tall, muscular figure in the doorway, your pulse skips.

--- This is so. SO. 😵‍💫

“Yes—no—sorry, I’m…” You stop. Nod. 

He frowns but you know it’s only to hide a smirk. “Don’t test me, Kitten. You’ve already done that enough this evening, have you not?”

--- STOP. It's SO CUTE. This little sprinkle of scene break fluff. STOP I'M GOING TO SQUEAL.

“And you knew better, didn’t you?” He walks into the room and begins to unzip his jeans. “Knew better than to dangle fucking Ethan in my face.”

You nod again but your eyes are trained on his hands. On the fingers that pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

“And you fucking knew…that if I got a taste of such a sweet pussy…I’d never stop,” he murmurs. He crawls onto the bed, wearing nothing more than his briefs. “That I’d forgive you. And let you off the hook.”

--- STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT SOPJGIFD[JHTOSJH TJ THIS WHOLE THING I CAN SEE I CAN SEE I CAN SEE IT

“Well,” he whispers and then he smiles. “You thought wrong.”

--- This was it. This was the moment. This dialogue. This Harry. I'm so smitten for him. So down bad.

Something about Harry saying "Easy" to an MC like they're some kind of wild animal does me in. Every. Single. Time. 🫠

Punishmentpunishmentpunishmentpunishmentpunishment *gurgles* me next please, sir

“Good.” He spanks you again. “I think we should do one for every time you lied to me. For every time I asked for the truth…and you refused to give it to me.”

--- Yeah. Uh. This is so. Like I think I'm having heart palpitations. Him calling her out for lying and punishing her for each one. Yeah. I'm. I need a medic.

“You want a lot of things from me, don’t you? And maybe I’m bad, too. For not being able to give them to you.”

--- Shut. Up. Are you fucking kidding me with this.

“And you’re gonna thank me for being so generous to such a selfish fucking whore?”

--- EARS. BURNING. CHRIST. I'm fucking squirming. And then "You still can’t see him but you can imagine his grin." SQUIRMING SQUIRMING SQUIRMINGOER[HRE;E/AMBL''

“Let’s check, shall we?” His fingers move now for the mess you already know is there. And when he feels it, he curses. “Fucking shit, Kitten, you’re soaked.”

--- I squeaked. I... squeaked. And jumped. And tucked my shoulders up to my ears and FUCK OFF. FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFFFFFF.

He uses this hold to kiss you and it’s a mess of tongues and spit and loud sucking. It makes you giggle.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” he suddenly whispers.

“Well, I prefer you hard.”

He smirks, but this is not what he means. “I want this to work.”

--- UGH WELL THEN MAKE IT BLOODY WORK. JUST DO IT. FUCKS SAKE. The lovemaking was so unexpected and like, okay, now... LIKE HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO US MISS FIREFLY.

Your eyes widen. He smiles but the look in his eye is mischievous and deranged.

--- we love deranged here don't we 🥴😵‍💫

“You’re insufferable,” you finally say and he laughs. The sound bounces between the walls of your room—joyous and unencumbered—and it makes you giddy. He doesn’t laugh like this for her. “What? You are.”

--- BRB just gonna go WAIL and SCREAM into my pillow.

Then, you whisper, “Okay.”

He looks down. “Okay?”

“I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Really?” He’s grinning again. Big.

“Mhm. As long as I get to keep you in some way…maybe it’ll be worth it.”

He seems to sadden at the use of the word maybe, but he brushes it off before you can comment on it. Instead, he pulls you closer and kisses you hard. Forever. 

--- Yeah this was so 🥺

so anyway. think i'm experiencing some kind of subdrop from the range of emotions i just went through. wish i was joking heh

well done, you<3

[harrysblackcoat]

You know who this is ?? This is best friend Harry who you’ve been in love with since you realised what love is …. Best friends since primary school, always a huge support to one another even when you were terrified he’d forget you when he joined one direction. A best friend who calls you daily to see how you are , a best friend who has a special nickname that only he’s allowed to call you , a best friend who makes you laugh like nobody else , a best friend who when he hugs you always quietly sniffs your hair because the smell of your shampoo has always been a comfort to him and a best friend who is in love with you too but is too scared to admit it ……

[velvetballaspark]

Thinking about Harry pacing the hospital waiting room and profusely running his hands through his hair while he listens to Gemma scream and push out life.

Thinking about the way Harry gently walks into Gemma’s hospital room and softly approaches her and sees his niece for the very first time and becomes emotional and pushes the sweaty hair back on her forehead and presses a soft kiss to it with creased brows and closed eyes.

Thinking about the way when he opens his eyes they are full of tears and he’s doing his cheek-splitting crinkle-by-his-eyes dimpled smile as he looks between the baby and Gemma and says “I’m so proud of you, sis”.

Thinking about the first time he holds his niece and plays with her toes and watches her petite newborn hand try to grip onto a single finger of his but can’t wrap her hand all the way around it because it’s so tiny (“look at her tiny thumb!”).

Thinking about the way he traces her features—her nose, her lips, her chubby cheeks, her miniature ears—when she falls asleep in his arms, and the way he smiles when she makes her first little noises as she stretches or opens and closes her tiny little mouth.

Thinking about the way he looks to Anne with wonder in his eyes like “did you see this?” And Anne is grinning so big because she’s watching all those years back in her mind of her two babies.

[finelinevogue]

crying in a different way to the first time i saw these