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shawnxstyles · 10 months

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personal

DATE: JULY 24, 2023

summary: you and harry are best friends who tell each other everything. or so you thought. when harry finds out you’ve barely done anything sexual, he offers to change that. and then things get a little… personal.

song: Glitch- taylor swift (this song seems fitting)

words: 6.5k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [rubbing, fingering, nipple play, praise kink], mirror sex, cum tasting??, dirty talk), and language.

note: i literally wrote this in a few days i think. this idea is so basic, but who doesn’t love a cliché concept? PART 2

bestfriend!fratrry x inexperienced!reader (because i literally write no one else and fratrry is the love of my life)

—

Harry had a lot of friends. People that he grew up with and some that he met along the way that just stayed. But you were his number one overall, and he told you everything. You told him everything too.

Well, almost everything.

It never really caught his attention that you guys never talked about sex. You guys have been friends for 15 years, since you were five, so you’d think it would have been brought up at least once. But now that Harry thinks about it, he can’t think of one time you’ve talked about the act.

He didn’t think it would be like this. And he didn’t think you’d answer like that.

You and Harry were casually hanging out on a free school day, just like you always do. And then you start talking about this date you went on and how the guy was great. Harry was happy for you, he really was. All he wanted was to see his best friend happier than happy. However, being the best friend he was, he was nagging and joking with you.

“Think he’s the one, eh?” Harry jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully on your couch.

“Oh, stop it. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” You roll your eyes and cross your arms. Yeah, Mike seemed like a decent guy and maybe you could have a relationship for a short time, but he was nowhere near “the one.”

You weren’t too desperate for a relationship, you liked whatever came to you. This cute guy asked you on a date a week ago and you weren’t going to say no. Because what if he was the one? He wasn’t, but what if?

“Imagine it, Doll,” Harry started. He began calling you Doll when you two were just kids. You loved to collect dolls of all sorts, but you never dared to take them out of the box. Harry thought it was silly, but also cool. “picket white fence, beautiful lake house. Kids runnin’ ‘round—”

He saw your face cringe at the word kids. He tilted his head in confusion, arm moving to rest behind you on the couch. He scoots closer to you and waits for you to respond.

“No kids for me,” You awkwardly chuckle. It seemed almost sad the way you sounded.

“What? Thought you wanted to be a mum?”

“Not anymore,” You breathed out with an awkward smile, “need a husband to do that.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout getting a husband. Shouldn’t stop you from wanting ‘em,” Harry smiled sincerely at you and you nodded while looking down.

“Plus, you could always just go out on the street and ask some good-lookin’ lad to be the father of your kids!” You socked Harry hard in the shoulder. He lets out a hearty laugh because he always ruins a sweet moment with a stupid joke. That’s just how you like it though.

“I’m not a prostitute!”

“Never said tha’.”

“Can we just watch some TV? You’re annoying me,” You roll your eyes as you reach for the remote. Harry continues to laugh as you switch the television on.

When you’re indecisive, you toss the remote to Harry and he shuffles through the stations. He lands on a random one, also indecisive. You guys were too similar sometimes.

“Look on your phone for somethin’ and then I’ll find it. I’m done searching.”

“You looked for like two seconds!” You laughed at his laziness. He shrugs with a smile, leaning into the couch. Again, you roll your eyes playfully before doing a bit of research on your phone.

Suddenly, a moan echoes throughout your living room and your whole body stiffens up. Harry notices and tears his eyes away from the screen, which was portraying the sexy noises. You don’t look at him even though you can feel his eyes burning into you.

“Alright?” he asked out of concern, peering at your rigidness. He’s only ever seen you get like that when you were anxious or scared, but nothing happened. Maybe you saw something scary on your phone?

“Uh, yeah,” You squeaked as the TV moaned again. Your face cringes and you force yourself to keep your eyes on your phone.

“Y/N, seriously,” Harry stares between you and the screen when she noisily moans again. The woman was being eaten out by the man and was being overly loud. Her back was arching and her breasts were on display. The movie was inappropriate, 18+ for sure, but it was nothing you hadn’t seen before. Right? You were both 21 years old.

“This… just makes me a tad uncomfortable is all,” You answered honestly, voice quiet as your legs tightened together. Harry’s eyebrows pursed together.

“Uncomfortable? Why?” he couldn’t help the question that slipped out of his mouth. He was too curious to know why a little movie made you stiff yet fidgety.

Unless… you were feeling something different than uncomfortable.

“No,” You shook your head and attempted to push yourself off the couch. Harry didn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and pull you back. He didn’t want you to run away and for you to feel like you couldn’t tell him something.

“Just tell me.”

“No,” You stood your ground, way too embarrassed to say something. Way too embarrassed to admit that you’ve never had sex before. Way too embarrassed to admit you’ve never done anything more than rub your own clit. Once. And it didn’t even feel that good.

Your skin was fiery and… tingly. Harry was much closer to you than he previously was because he pulled you closer to him. Your bare thighs were touching, warm on warm with a sudden spark. You didn’t know you weren’t breathing until you inhaled deeply at Harry’s hooking stare.

“Doll, you tell me everything, but you can’t tell me why a little porn makes you uncomfortable? Because I know it’s tha’.”

“Ugh,” You groaned between clenched teeth. You threw your head back until it hit the top of the couch. Harry’s grip on your wrist never left you. He squeezed it reassuringly, letting you know that he supports you in whatever you’re going to say.

Are you really about to say it?

“Y/N, just—”

“No.”

“I thought we were best friends—”

“Do not pull that card!”

“But—”

“I’ve never had sex before, okay?” You shouted over Harry’s pleading voice and the echoing moans from the television. You’d think by the time you had a whole argument they’d be done having sex, but nope.

Harry was cut off, so his mouth was slacked open. Once he realizes his jaw is on the floor, he blinks a few times to really process what you’ve said. If you had told anyone else, they would have harshly judged you. Harry wasn’t necessarily too different, but he was your best friend, and he was going to try his hardest not too. Harry was just more shocked if anything. He had a handful of different bodies, enough to give him a good amount of experience. So when he finds out you’ve done nothing, he’s beyond surprised to his core.

“But you’ve had so many dates,” Harry looks over at your face, which was looking down at your lap. Your wrist was still trapped in his hand, but you were twiddling your thumbs like you were in trouble. He starts rubbing reassuring circles with his thumb over your knuckle. Your skin was so hot, and Harry’s theory of you being turned on continued in his mind.

Did you even know what that meant? You were naive, right?

“So? That doesn’t mean anything,” Your attitude was shining through. But deep down, you were more embarrassed than anything. This was just your coping mechanism. And of course, Harry knew that.

“Surely you’ve done something else,” Harry suggests. You pin him with a knowing look and a long blink.

“I haven’t,” You answered before even hearing his question. He clearly doesn’t care about your reply because he’s asking you a series of interrogation questions.

“Have you had someone eat you out—” Harry points to the screen, but it was on a commercial break now. You got the point, but Harry clearly didn’t.

“No,” You grumbled.

“What about fingering—”

“No.”

“A toy?”

“Where would I even buy that?”

“Or—”

“No, Harry. Nothing.”

“Not even rubbing?” he asks. You stay quiet, unsure if you want to admit the one-time experiment you did.

Why does it even matter? You tried it and you realized you don’t like it, so you never have to do it again right?

“Not… really,” You hesitated. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion while your skin burned at boiling temperature.

“Humping?”

“No—I tried to…” You couldn’t get the words out. Not ever you’d think. But especially not with Harry so close to you. His body was warm, not as warm as yours, but it was eliciting something inside of you that you couldn’t comprehend. The way he nonchalantly said so many dirty things made you dizzy.

“Tried to what?” Harry was thinking of so many things you could say. He wanted to finish your sentence, just like how he wanted to finish you until you were crying his name and soaking him. But he wanted to hear you say it. He’s never thought of you in such an explicit way, but with the words and tension floating in the air it was hard not to.

“…do it myself.”

“And how did that work out, Doll?”

“Um,” You didn’t expect him to ask. Your neck and cheeks light up in small flames. Where did this come from? “I…”

“What? I thought you could tell me anything?” When your eyes flickered up to his, they were a dark, swirling green you’ve never seen on his face before. Your heart skipped a dangerous beat, frightened with anticipation.

“I know, I can. But this… it’s different.”

“How so?”

“It’s personal—”

“Best friends are personal.”

“But not like this. Best friends don’t do this,” You tried to get up again, nearly ripping yourself away from his grip. But you were in too deep now. Harry wasn’t going to let this one slide. His mind was thinking about one thing and one thing only.

You.

He yanks you back and twirls you around, releasing your wrist in the process. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you down to his lap. You couldn’t contain the slight gasp you let out at the feeling of his strong legs beneath you. Your legs were on either side of him, tempting to squeeze shut. Every movement you made Harry would feel in this position.

“Best friends can say anything. They can do anything too,” Harry’s hands caress your thighs. They’re comforting and inviting, but are also sending a field of goosebumps along your skin warning you to flee. It’s hard to focus on anything but his touch and the vibration of his words through the air. “Now, tell me, did you rub yourself?”

“Yes,” You stutter, trying to stop your hips from squirming on his lap. He notices and grips one side of your body to steady you. It only makes you want to shift more. His touch was almost overwhelming, but you wanted more of it.

Was it wrong to want more of your best friend’s touch?

“Did it feel good?”

“No,” A part inside of you was a bit disappointed that it felt so bland. You thought masturbation was this great thing, and that’s why people did it so frequently. You heard it was also a stress-reliever, but for you, it was just a stress-inducer. Harry could tell by your tone that you weren’t lying.

“Well, you probably weren’t doing it right,” Harry replies and you look up at him with a slightly startled expression and a scoff. You didn’t expect his response to be so straightforward, like he was a doctor diagnosing you with some disease.

“How could I do it wrong? Don’t I just rub…?”

“Baby, it’s much more than that,” Harry said sincerely. He’s never called you baby before, but the nickname had your heart jumping. “Were you even wet?”

“What? I—probably? I don’t remember…”

“You would remember.”

“The experience wasn’t very memorable,” You grumble with an eye roll.

“Do you want me to show you?”

His question had your head spiraling. He wanted to what? There is no way. There is no way those words just left Harry, your best friend’s, mouth.

“W-what? That’s way too personal!” Your eyes were wide and your skin was burning. You were nearly dizzy with this whole conversation and your stomach was tight. You thought you might need to lie down for a while.

Maybe you were sick. Yeah, that’s it.

“Best friends are personal, Doll. Just let me show you, yeah? And then we never have to talk about it again. If y’don’t want. Please,” Harry’s charm was convincing you. Everything about him was luring you in, completely different than ever before. The way his eyes was dark and his touch was warm made you feel wanted and needed, which was contrary to your past dates. They didn’t look at you this way, nearly beg for you this way. They didn’t show you anything. They wanted you because they wanted to get their dick wet, but they hated the idea of a virgin.

And Harry’s familiar. He’s safe. You don’t have to be afraid when you’re with him. But then why are you so nervous?

Harry was willing to teach you how to do the one thing you’ve been curious about your whole life, and you’re going to pass up the opportunity, why? Because he’s your best friend?

Isn’t that supposed to make it better?

“Okay, fine,” You inhaled as your hands gripped onto his T-shirt on his shoulders. You had convinced yourself to let the words slip out. “Show me.”

You were agreeing almost as if this wasn’t a big deal for you. But to Harry, it was. He would take your firsts, and something about that filled him with pride. A smirk slowly rides up on his lips, “Now?”

A blush cascades through your body. Of course he didn’t mean right now!

“I-I thought you meant—”

“Shh, relax, Doll. I was just makin’ sure,” he smirks again, pulling you closer to him. He loved watching you get all squirmy and flustered more than he thought. You could feel his body heat more than ever now, and you’re surprised you lasted this long on his lap without dying. “I’m going to give you a few options, okay?”

With anxiousness, you nodded and swallowed.

“When we do this, you have to talk. So use your words, Y/N,” You knew he was being serious when he said your name, so you replied with yes and then he was giving you your options.

“So, I can lay you down right here on the couch and show you how to rub your little clit,” his explicit words were making your privates ache, but it wasn’t painful. It kind of felt… good? You felt a foreign liquid dampen your underwear, and you can only assume that’s the wetness Harry was talking about. “Or, you can do it yourself on m’thigh with my help. Which one sounds like something y’want to do?”

“The first one,” You answered, painfully desperate to squeeze your legs together to stop this ache. “But how will I see what you’re doing?”

Harry thought for a moment. You made a good point. How were you supposed to learn simply from feeling? Harry knew you were a bit of a visual learner, so he wanted to make sure you saw how to pleasure yourself correctly. And he knew the perfect way to do that.

“I actually have a third option. But s’not really a choice anymore,” Harry doesn’t say anything after, he just lifts himself and you off the couch without warning. You wrap your arms and legs around his body like a koala, making sure you don’t fall. His warmth encompasses you back and you wish you could just stay there forever.

Familiar. Safe.

When your head peers up from his shoulder, you’re in his bathroom. Your eyebrows pinch together, curious as to what his third choice was.

He sets you down on the floor until your feet are planted. You unwrap your arms from him, still confused.

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” Harry’s eyes were still dark, and you wondered if they would ever go back to the strong, emerald green they used to be.

“Yes, of course,” You didn’t hesitate to answer. There was no one that you trusted more than Harry that wasn’t in your bloodline.

“Okay,” Harry breathes, “Strip f’me. Keep your bra and underwear on.”

You nearly questioned him in shock. But then you remembered what the whole goal of this was. He was going to show you how and you were going to listen, right? So you did.

Carefully, you stripped yourself of your clothes. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, and some were revealing, so this can’t be as bad, right? Harry didn’t peel his eyes away although you wanted him to. He hasn’t seen you naked since you two were little kids, and even though you weren’t naked, it felt like you were with his burning gaze. Obviously, there were some changes too. Like height, hair, breasts, ass… the whole thing. Harry doesn’t say anything until you’re in your undergarments.

A swimsuit is definitely different.

“Good. Now, c’mere,” Harry sits down on the floor, a few feet away from his full-body mirror. His body was up against the bathtub wall to keep himself steady. You slowly lowered yourself to the floor, wondering what was going on through his head.

He pulls you between his legs until you’re pressed against his body. His warmth radiated through you far better with less clothes on and your body ached some more. Your legs closed to squeeze it away.

“Nuh uh,” he declines. Harry grips your thighs with his ringed fingers and yanks them apart. You gasp at the extreme vulnerability and the coolness that waves over your privates. He throws your legs over his and bends them slightly, making you unable to move at all. “Keep them open, yeah?”

You nodded, but that’s not what he told you to do.

“Words.”

“Yes. Keep them open.”

“Good girl. You’re learning,” Harry smiled and looked towards the mirror. His eyes instantly zoomed in on the growing wet patch on the front of your cotton panties, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He saw and felt your body squirming similarly like how you were on his lap. He’s had a rock-hard cock since this conversation started, so he’s not surprised if you can feel his hard-on poking your back through his shorts.

His hands rested on your knees as you watched him in the mirror. The entirety of it all was extremely erotic, like something that would be on TV.

“If you like something, tell me. If you hate something, tell me. It’s important that you do so, okay? It helps both of us learn.”

“Okay,” You were nearly shaking with anticipation. You were so nervous, but why? It’s just Harry. It’s just Harry. “I kind of like when you say I’m doing a good job. Makes me feel… nice.”

“Yeah?” Harry tried to conceal the smirk that threatened to rise on his lips. Of course his best friend, who happened to be the most innocent person in the world, had a praise kink. It just made too much sense. “Like when I call you a good girl?”

You sighed and nodded, but Harry didn’t say anything this time. He just kept going.

One of his hands rested on your knee, tracing delicate circles. He stayed in the same spot, for god knows how long, and you wondered when he would do something. He seemed to be in a trance. He was hyper-focusing on every centimeter with those circles, and although you were getting impatient, you felt cared for.

One of his hands snakes to your chest and rubs your nipple through your bra. Just when you were about to protest, his fingers moved a tad lower. The roughness of his pads tickled your skin just right and caused your thighs to squirm. It was entertaining for Harry to watch you get all squirrely from such a simple touch.

He’s going to have fun with you.

“It… tickles,” You observe as your eyes look down at his fingers, very gradually moving closer to that ache in between your legs. You felt like a kid exploring a new world for the first time; naive and curious.

“What does?”

“Your fingers,” You stare at him in the mirror almost as if he’s stupid. What else would tickle?

“Does this tickle?” Harry’s knuckle brushes the inside of your thighs, lower than he’s been. You inhale at the subtle sensitivity.

“Not much,” You answer, and his knuckle continues to sway leisurely. Your breath picks up, rising faster at his hand’s proximity.

“What about this?” His index finger traces the hem of your panties with purpose. You gasp when he gets deep in between your legs, outlining your cunt with ease. Your legs attempt to shut with a shake, shying away from the vulnerability, but it’s impossible with his strong legs prying you open.

“A-a little.”

“And this?”

As if his touch could be anymore teasing, he finally dances along your clothed cunt, tracing your lips with curiosity of how you’d react. A mix of a sigh and a moan wavers out of you unintentionally, hips pushing closer towards his finger. Your mind blanks, light and fuzzy. Your face immediately falls to gaze at his movements, attracted to the air-headed feeling.

“Eyes on the mirror,” Harry demands while delicately caressing you. It was ironic, really. His voice was so rough and stoic while his touch was ever so gentle. With a few blinks, you're focusing in on the mirror, obeying his command. “How does this feel? Does it tickle?”

“Good, and yes,” You swallow your moan as his finger keeps petting you lightly. You were almost getting used to it, but you wanted more. “Is this what I was supposed to do?”

“Sort of. This is called foreplay. Heard of tha’?”

“I think so?” You were breathless.

“S’basically where I get you all wet and ready f’me. You like that?”

“L-love and hate relationship right now,” You pant as his finger rises away from your weeping, covered hole and travels up to your clit. You choke out a gasp as he strokes it nonchalantly.

“Oh,” Your hand drops to his thigh, gripping it strongly as your body begins to tingle. You strain your neck to keep your eyes on the mirror ahead of you, trying to watch how he does it.

His familiar smirk never fades from his face, cheeks a tad rosy from the heat waving between you two. His wrist is probably sore from the tedious, repeated movements he does. His thick fingers delicately circle your covered clit, applying generous pressure until you’re panting.

“More. I think I need more,” You suggest when his pace stays a consistent speed. You needed to feel his fingers on your bare skin. If he was going to touch you, you wanted him to just do it already.

“Y’think?” Harry’s tone was taunting yet serious. He wanted you to be firm with what you wanted. He didn’t want you to second-guess your own pleasure. If you needed more, you needed to tell him that. The best way for that to happen was for him to train you. “Beg for it.”

As your head becomes floaty with the stimulation, you don’t even hesitate to throw out pleads.

“Please, Harry. I-I need it, need more,” Your head slowly falls back onto his shoulder before his touch is gone. “Wha—”

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to see you. All of you. He needed to see what he did to you, and if you were really as desperate as you seemed. As shocking as this all may be to you, it was just as shocking to Harry. He couldn’t believe he was this turned on from his best friend’s inexperience. He’s always liked when a girl knew what she was doing and knew how to reciprocate. But something about Harry teaching you and showing you the ropes just fills him with a kind of power and pride that he can’t get from anywhere else. And he’s feasting off of it.

“M’gonna take these off, alright?”

“Everything? O-okay,” He unclipped your bra as you slowly slid down your panties. The tile beneath you was colder than before, but Harry’s warm body behind you kept you comforted.

“Have you heard of the traffic light system?” he asks, hands resting gently on your bare shoulders. He gets straight into the safety part first. It also distracts him from ogling your naked figure against him. He could feel his cock twitch in his briefs at your fluttering pussy and peaked nipples.

“I assume you don’t mean the ones used for driving?” You both chuckle and break some of the swollen tension in the room. It was a nice little reminder that it’s just Harry.

“No, Doll. The one for safety and consent,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, no, I’ve never heard of it.”

“If you say red, I’ll stop instantly and ask what made y’red. Communication is key. If y’say yellow, I’ll slow down and ask you again. And then we can either continue or stop, whatever y’want. But if your color is green, I’ll keep going. Understand, love?”

There was a lot of information, but you were able to keep up. It was actually similar to the traffic light system, which makes the name very fitting. You reply with a firm yes to note that you understand.

All while he was talking and explaining everything, you were getting used to looking at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t always confident in your body, but staring at it in between Harry’s made you feel safe and sexy somehow.

Before your mind can wander too far, Harry’s hands are falling down until they’re at your nipples. His rough fingers lightly pinch the already-hard buds until you’re pushing up into his touch. The warmth and the nakedness made you overly flushed all over. He gropes your breasts with care, slyly sliding another hand down lower.

Throughout this entire process, you’ve been soaking; in your underwear, in your shorts, and now on his bathroom tile. Your lower body has been throbbing in desire to be aided, and Harry seems to know just what you need.

His fingers hover right above your mound that’s screaming for him to go lower. Your heart rams against your chest in anticipation of his bare hands on your bare body, on your most sacred and vulnerable parts. No one has ever touched you beside yourself. A small part inside of you was glad that the first person was Harry because you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

Right?

“Stop thinking s’much,” he says, rubbing a warm palm over your belly. His face moves your head, so his lips can kiss your temple reassuringly. You slightly arch your back, so maybe he could see how desperate you are. Your legs were still spread by his, so you know he can see your wetness. If you can see it, so can he. “Just let me show you how it’s done.”

“Okay, Mr. Cocky,” You roll your eyes as he shifts your hair behind your ear, “What if I don’t even like it?”

“The name is very fitting. But that’s for a different day,” he says with a cocky smirk on his face. Now that sounds like something Harry would say. But your entire face gets warm and your head gets a little fuzzy when you actually imagine it. “and you will. Trust me.”

You take a deep breath. You weren’t sure how far you guys were going to go, but you’ve never felt more ready and more safe. With the system Harry told you about and all his reassurance, it was clear that even if he was teaching you, you were the one that had all the control.

“Now watch me.”

With those words his hand turns into just one finger and resumes on your clit. You gasp into the air as your body jolts. The roughness of his thumb paints your arousal over and over on your skin.

“This little thing is important. Don’t neglect it.”

His rhythm is slow and tedious as he circles the nub. You see and feel him dip down to collect some more of your wetness as he continues stroking you.

“How’s this? Color?” he gruffs in your ear while staring at you darkly in the mirror. You could barely understand him because you were panting embarrassingly and trying your hardest to focus on the reflecting glass in front of you.

“Good! Wait—green,” You corrected yourself as a moan elicited from you, his touch feeling even better each second.

“Good girl.”

“Fuck,” You feel yourself clench around nothing but your own wetness at his words. You both watch as the liquid quenches out of your dripping hole, making Harry groan from behind you.

“Do y’think you can handle one finger? Hm?” his voice rolls perfectly into your ear as he twists your peaked nipple. You couldn’t control your moans at the pleasure. His voice sounded just as good as the feeling of his hands.

“Yes, yes. Harry, please,” You nearly cried from how bad you needed it. You didn’t even know you needed it this bad. You thought you were going to hate this feeling, but you’re far from it.

“So submissive, so responsive,” Harry’s middle finger pushes against your hole, teasing the opening. You hold your breath as he makes you wait. “Breathe, Doll. Relax.”

Your eyes close for a moment. You breathe deep and feel your limbs lose their sudden tenseness. Before you can open them again, Harry’s finger is slotting inside of you easily. A gasp falls from your mouth as your hand grips on his meaty thigh for support.

“O-oh.” The feeling was insane. Intense. Nearly overwhelming. You clenched around his digit, consuming and caging it like it would fade away.

You’re so tight around him, he swears his finger might fall off. Harry’s cock is pulsing and pleading behind your back, but you don’t seem to notice. He’s making sure he doesn’t rut into you, but it’s so difficult when you’re all spread out and submissive for him.

He’s never thought of you like this, but fuck, now he can’t think of you any other way.

“Color, Doll?” Harry grumbles in your ear, voice low and breathy as it fans over your skin warmly.

“Green. What’s more than green? B-blue? Just–don’t stop–God,” Your squeaky voice rambled as his finger pumped in and out slowly. You can hear his smile behind your screwed eyes. The pad of his thumb rubbed delicate circles over your throbbing clit to escalate the pleasure.

Your chest was beating fast when your legs started to shake. Your hips bucked closer to his hands, needing more as you chase the glorious feeling.

“Look at you, takin’ me so well,” Harry praises, subtly curling his finger as your back arches. You know that one finger isn’t a lot, barely anything, but you were melting at the praise that Harry gave you. His constant encouragement is what made you putty in his hands. Literally.

“Harry,” You moaned into the heated air, causing Harry to groan desperately behind you. And you’re not too stupid to deflect that Harry might be turned on from the scene unfolding. If you knew more, if you knew better, you would have offered to help him after. But you were inexperienced, and you assumed he wouldn’t want someone to give him head who could possibly bite his dick off.

“Are you close, baby? Hm? Gonna come for the first time on my hand?”

“Y-yes! Please,” You begged as you climbed your high, wondering what the top would feel like if the chase was this blissful.

Your head falls restlessly on his shoulder while his right hand keeps focusing on your cunt. It was covered in your arousal as his pace picked up. The stimulation was almost too much, your body wanted to push away. But your mind was pleading to feel a release you know your body needed.

“Is it gonna h-hurt?” You groaned as your cunt clenched around him again, stomach tensing. A strong rush you assumed could only be an orgasm was approaching you all too fast.

“No, Doll. It’s gonna feel real good,” He twisted your nipple again, pushing you over the edge. You felt his thumb and index pinch your clit, causing you to scream his name against his chest. “Look in the mirror. Watch yourself fall apart f’me. Watch and make sure this time is memorable.”

You always thought Harry had a way with words. You never thought that about dirty talking though. His hands were as skillful as can be, and maybe one day you’ll be able to make yourself feel as good as he made you feel. But his words are something that you’ll never be able to treat yourself with. You don’t think you’ll ever meet another person whose voice is as fitting as Harry’s.

With his demanding tone, you came right over the edge. An overwhelming ripple of pleasure ceased through your body, shaking your legs to the max. Soundless moans and clawing nails were all you were capable of as you came on his large hand. Although you were straining, you never took your eyes off of the mirror. He told you to look at yourself as you came, but you were only staring at the glaring green eyes reflecting back at you. He rubbed all of your orgasm until you were trembling from overstimulation.

Just when you thought he was done, he raised his ringed hand to his mouth and tasted you. You thought that was something that they only did porn or movies. You swallowed intensely as his hum vibrated through you.

“Do you always… taste it?”

“If I think it’ll taste good,” he smirked as you scooted forward to grab your shirt. As you throw it over your head, you just had to ask.

“Did mine taste any good?” You slightly cringed as you asked the question. Does cum usually taste good? What does it even taste like?

His smirk widens, a hint of evilness rising, “do you want to find out?”

Your skin flushes even against the chilling tile. Your heart skips a beat at trying yourself. You hadn’t ever thought of it before. But you’ve come (literally) this far tonight, so why not just take it a little further?

“O-okay,” You slowly lift up your shirt, revealing your fucked-out cunt to him again. “So I just…?”

“May I?” he suggests.

“Yes.”

Two of Harry’s fingers swipe over your cunt, which was still covered in a mix of your arousal and cum. You jolted from the stimulation, tensing quickly before his touch was gone.

“Open,” and without thinking, you do. Your mouth falls open as his fingers lay flat on your tongue. Salty and creamy, it spreads over your tastebuds. You hummed around his fingers just like he did because it tasted good. Yeah, it was a bit odd, but once you got past that, you realized how erotic and sexy it was. “How’s it taste?”

After a bit of suckling on his digits, he puts them out way too soon for your liking. “Good, actually.” You creak from your dry throat.

“I think so too. Let’s clean you up real quick.”

Still sitting on the floor, a warm, wet towel soothes your sensitiveness as he wipes away all of your liquids. A smile broke out on his face when he finished before his hand landed on top of your head. He shook your hair like crazy until it was already wilder than it was. The action was childlike and friendly, almost as if everything between you guys never happened and you were back to square one. It was better that way, though. Right? To just go back to how everything used to be?

Harry grabs the small hand towel and exits his bathroom. You assume he went to discard it and add it to his laundry, but you just sat there in oblivion. You already missed his touch, longing for something you should’ve never even had in the first place. He was the one that offered himself to teach you, but now you’ve been taught, so where do you guys go now? Are you really supposed to just go back to the way it was?

He saw you in ways that no one else has before. You always thought that you would be intimate and have your groups of firsts with someone that you were dating, someone that you loved. Because of this, you realized that Harry was the safe option. Doing this with Harry changed your views on everything, and your body, heart, and mind couldn’t keep up with the rapid reversal.

You knew that Harry had a few notches in his belt. But were they all from relationships or just one-night stands? You didn’t know because you two rarely ever discussed the topic. Was it easy for Harry to go from girl to girl? Or did he get attached like you?

If there was one thing you always feared from sex and sexual doings, it was the intense attachment. You had heard about the infamous addiction intimacy laces within your veins that makes you crave a person. Now that you’ve been with Harry, that won’t happen to you, right?

You’ve known Harry forever, yet you’ve never craved him. He’s your best friend, and you’ve never seen him as more than that. If it was anyone else, you’d probably lose all control because you have no significant relationship with them. It would be easy to latch onto anybody because it would be easy to lose them too. Harry, on the other hand, was not easy to lose.

The last thing you want is to convince yourself of anything. You don’t want to “crave” Harry just because you saw something about an article online about “sexual chemicals fusing.” You couldn’t. No, it was too risky.

You’ve known Harry forever, so you couldn’t lose him forever too.

“I think I found a good movie to watch!” Harry’s voice echoes from his living room and all the way into the bathroom where you haven’t moved a muscle. Your overthinking was louder than it’s ever been. With a shaky breath, you rise from the tiles and stare at your disheveled appearance in the mirror. The same mirror you watched Harry finger fuck you with.

“Be out there in a second!” You shout back as your heart beats rapidly from his heartwarming voice laughing loudly at something. You clutched your chest, wondering why the fuck you were feeling the organ lurch for him in a way that wasn’t meant for him.

You knew that it was way too fucking personal.

—

thanks for reading angels 😙 part 2

taglist: @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @raajali3

#shawnxstyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fics #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #fratrry #harry styles one shot #bestfriend!harry #fratrry x reader #dom!harry #harry styles love on tour #tpwk #treat people with kindness

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justmystyles · 2 months

Text

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-downand leads you on a whirlwind romance with one of the biggest pop stars in the world.

*back to my master list*

Chapter 1:

A work breakfast at a local diner leads to a meeting and unexpected invitation.

Chapter 2:

You attend your first Harry Styles show, but the most eventful part of the evening is afterwards.

Chapter 3:

Harry reaches out following your night together, and invites you to come visit him on tour.

Chapter 4:

Things heat up between you and Harry when you attend Harryween night 1.

Chapter 5:

It's Harryween night 2, and your last night in New York with Harry.

Chapter 6:

Harry invites himself to come spend some time with you while he's on break from tour.

Chapter 7 (NSFW):

Harry spoils you for your birthday.

Chapter 8 (NSFW):

It's the morning after your birthday, and it's finally time to have the talk you've been dreading.

Chapter 9:

Harry has dinner with your family.

Chapter 10:

You and Harry spend the rest of the week together, and have some conversations about your relationship.

Chapter 11 (NSFW):

Just as you settle into your long distance relationship, Harry returns for his New Year's visit.

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hazzashouse · 10 months

Text

a/n: my first time sharing my writing with anyone. It does feel a little vulnerable and out of my confront zone. Hope you like this short piece tho!

summary: one would think that Harry would be sad about the end of his tour yet there’s something that he is definitely looking forward to.

warnings: none, just fluff

You couldn’t be more excited for tonight. Dressed up in your outfit, that you had picked out last night, you were standing now in front of one of the mirrors in Harry’s dressing room. Occasionally you could hear the crowd cheering and singing One Direction songs as they were waiting for the show to begin. The last show of the tour.

At first it was challenging for your new relationship to compromise your life in London and Harry’s tour. You didn’t know how it was gonna be but Harry did everything he could on his end to make it work. He always does.

And it did work. Whenever you could, you joined him on the tour. Exploring the cities together and watching him on stage were one of your things to do. His talent and passion for music never failed to make you smile because there was nothing better than to see your loved ones doing things they love.

You were currently reminiscing about last night when both of you want on a walk around Rome that you didn’t see Harry entering the dressing room until you felt his arms sneaking around your waist.

“Hey,” you closed your eyes, taking in the scent of his cologne. Your body relaxed under the warm embrace of your boyfriend.

“Hey beautiful,” Harry turned his head so that he could kiss you on your temple. “You look stunning,” he gave you a gentle squeeze before he pulled away and taking your hand into his own, he made you do a little twirl. “Absolutely gorgeous,” his smile grew wider when he saw that his compliments made your cheeks turn pinkish. He loved seeing you like this, especially if he was the cause of those pink tones showing up on your face.

He was just about to cup your cheeks to give you a proper kiss but you grabbed his wrists trying to stop him from doing that. “Shouldn’t you be going on stage in a few?”

Harry chuckled and proceeded with getting closer to you. “Maybe,” his voice was lower at that point as his lips were now closer to yours. “But I still have a few seconds to give my girlfriend a kiss,” your lips touched briefly, “or two,” he kissed you once again but this time he didn’t hold back. Gently taking his wrists out of your grasp, Harry placed his hands on your waist, tugging you by the belt loops so your body was now pressed against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as your fingers weaved into his hair.

When both of you felt out of breath, Harry rested his forehead against yours. “I wanna take you out tomorrow” he said making you frown a bit in question.

“Haven’t we already agreed on going out?” You asked, you fingers still gently tracing circles on the back of his neck.

“Yes, we have,” Harry pecked your lips before pulling away to look into your eyes. “But I want to take you out on a proper date. I want to buy you flowers, pick you up from your hotel room and take you to the best Italian restaurant. I want to kiss you whenever I want to and take you out on a walk under the starry sky,” he started painting this beautiful picture in your head, making the corner of your lips lift. Harry was not only a gentleman but he was an incredible romantic guy, you loved it about him. “So? Would you make me the happiest man on earth and agree to go on a date with me?”

It didn’t take long for you to nod your head. “Of course,” you said and in a second Harry picked you up as he couldn’t contain his happiness. The truth was that Harry had been planing this day for a few weeks now. As much as he was sad about performing his last concert of this tour, he couldn’t wait to have more time to spend with you.

Part 2 coming soon

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

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cupid-styles · 9 months

Text

honey dove*

Harry has finally made Daisy his sunshine girl, but not everything is as sweet as can be.

70s!harry and virgin!fmc | Content warnings: outdated views on the LGBTQ+ community (including a coming out scene), drugs, a smidge of angst that's quickly resolved, smut! (losing virginity, dirty talk)

Word count: 6.3k

Part one | Part two | Series masterlist

Daisy is ready to lose her virginity.

It just so happens that everything around her went to shit last week, so the odds of it happening anytime soon are pretty much slim to none. And she's frustrated.

She knows she's being selfish, but can you blame her? She's officially going steady with the guy of her dreams, the one she's been drooling over for years, assuming she had zero chance with him since 1973.

She's so happy — she adores Harry and it seems like the feeling's mutual if his constant kisses and compliments are anything to go off of. Two days ago, on Daisy's day off from the record store, he popped by her apartment with a bouquet of sunflowers (her favorites) before he headed into work. She wanted to jump his bones right then and there, but she had to settle for a few dopey, lovesick kisses in an effort not to make him late.

And although it's been a week since Harry asked if she would be his girl (she's still swooning over it), it's also been a week since Willow spoke to either of them.

If Daisy hadn't seen what she did at the party, she would be more confused about why Willow seemed to be hiding out from them. She feels guilty that Harry is all but ripping his hair out every day, assuming she's giving them the cold shoulder because of their newfound relationship, but Daisy refuses to reveal such an impactful secret to him. She knows it's not her place so instead, every time her and Harry hang out, she tries her best to comfort or distract him.

On Monday night, they hit the drive-in movie theater to see A Star Is Born. It's usually the type of place that you go to makeout or having messy car sex, but Harry stayed slumped in the drivers seat the whole night, picking at the bag of popcorn he bought Daisy.

On Tuesday, Daisy made them dinner at her apartment and they watched a few episodes of Charlie's Angels. Harry curled up in her lap while she played with his hair, eventually falling asleep there. The following morning, she woke up to a kiss planted on her cheek and a promise to call her later tonight.

Daisy worked the closing shift on Thursday night so he met her at Sam's to walk her home. She offered for him to stay over, but he seemed eager to go home, giving a short explanation that he hadn't seen Willow in two days and was worried about her. Daisy understood that — how could she not? — but she also couldn't hide the disappointment on her face (hence Friday morning's flowers).

Daisy wakes up curled against Harry's back on Saturday morning. Rays of sunshine are streaming through his windows, basking the room is a warm glow. It's something she's always loved about San Diego after living in a near constant forecast of rain in Seattle for the first 18 years of her life.

She can feel Harry breathing, his back expanding in steady puffs of air. She wraps her form around him even tighter, wishing he could stay as peaceful as he is right now. The second he blinks his eyes open, though, she knows he'll feel Willow's absence in the apartment, and his chest will constrict with anxiety before 9 am.

Sighing, Daisy presses a chaste kiss to the shell of his ear. She contemplates slipping out to get them breakfast from Harry's favorite dinner two streets over — surely that'll be a nice thing to wake up to, and then maybe they can lounge around his room all day, ducking out onto the fire escape to share joints while they trade between disco and rock albums.

She thinks it's a nice way to spend a bright September day, and so she slowly begins to peel her body away from his, careful in ensuring she doesn't wake him up. After Harry's confession about loving when she wears his things, she chooses to keep his Fleetwood Mac shirt on and pulls on the pair of shorts she wore last night. Quietly, she tiptoes out of the bedroom, closing the door gently behind her. As she's sliding her Keds on, her head snaps up when she hears the familiar sound of the front door unlocking. At another point in time, Daisy loved hearing it, knowing that Willow was on the other side. Today, her stomach bubbles in anxiety for the very same reason.

Sure enough, an exhausted looking Willow appears, slamming the door shut once she's kicked her sandals off. She snorts when she sees Daisy standing there still as a statue and brushes past her in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hey," Daisy attempts to greet, following her. "What's up? I haven't seen you in ages."

Willow shrugs her shoulders as she grabs an apple from the fruit bowl, turning to rinse it off in the sink, "Not much. You?"

She tries not to cower at the aggressive tone Willow's using, instead pushing forward. She's determined to get things back to how they used to be — she wasn't willing to lose Willow or Harry, and it hurt her to see them both in pain.

"Nothing really," Daisy replies, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Um, Harry has been really worried about you, Will. We both have... where have you been?"

Willow rolls her eyes and bites the apple, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a bored expression on her face.

"You two are so far up each other's asses it's actually sick."

A pang of pain rushes through Daisy's body, her knees wobbling slightly at Willow's harsh words.

"That's not fair. I'm sorry if you're not happy we're dating, but we really like each other and we don't want things to change—"

"I don't give a hoot if you two are going steady, Daisy. What I care about is my brother thinking he's so much better than me because he's dating someone. He's always talking crap about no one wanting me and it's just not true, alright? Just butt out!"

"Willow, I saw you last weekend." Daisy says, her lips pressed together in a tight line. "With that girl. Reina, right? I saw you guys kissing."

Willow's eyes immediately widen but she backtracks nearly instantly, shaking her head. "You're out of your mind. You were probably too spaced out and thought you saw something you didn't."

"I wasn't. I got up at like 3 am to go get some water and I saw you two leaving your room. I watched her kiss you before she left," Daisy explains as she nervously wrings her hands out behind her, "Willow, I don't care what your sexuality is or who you're dating, I just want you to be happy—"

"You told Harry, then?" She asks with a stoic face.

"What?"

"You told him. He's your boyfriend and you told him and that's why he hasn't talked to me all week."

"Willow— I... no, of course not," Daisy shakes her head, "No, I didn't tell him. Honest. I kept it to myself... I don't think that's the kind of thing he should hear from me. He's been worried sick about you and hasn't been himself. He's desperate to talk to you."

With furrowed eyebrows, Willow chews slowly. "I've been... avoiding you both. I saw you that night. I knew you saw and I just assumed you went straight to him. I figured... it's kinda like you two against me now, y'know?"

Daisy immediately shakes her head, her heart cracking slightly at the thought that she would ever abandon Willow. She's been her rock since they met in the restaurant all those years ago, long before Harry came into the picture.

"It'll never be like that," Daisy says at she steps closer to the brunette, "He has no idea, but he's so worried, Will. He's still sleeping if you wanna talk to him one-on-one..."

Willow presses her lips into her mouth, a look of discomfort taking over her features.

"Or we can go get breakfast if you haven't eaten yet! There's no rush to tell him anything. I won't say anything. I promise."

She smiles gratefully and nods, straightening her posture. "I'll tell him today. Can we just get some flapjacks first?"

Aside from agreeing to be Harry's girl, it's the easiest yes Daisy has ever said.

. . .

When Harry wakes up, it's to the sound of giggling girls in the apartment.

He instantly recognizes the voices — they belong to his girlfriend and his sister, but he hasn't heard them chorused together in weeks. It's an immediate relief, like warm sunshine washing over his body. It means that Willow's home and maybe, just maybe, she's made up with Daisy, making him one step closer to having his little sister back in his life.

Harry fumbles as he climbs out of bed, eager to see Willow after days away from home. He pulls on a pair of pants over his briefs and ambles out of his room, past the kitchen and to the living room. Their conversation pauses and Daisy flashes him a small but hopeful smile.

"Hey," he greets, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his corduroy trousers, "You're home."

Willow nods, smiling tightly. "Yeah. Ran into Daisy this morning when I got back and we talked a little."

"Yeah?" Harry asks, eyes darting between the two girls.

"Yeah," Willow echoes, "Um, I actually... I want to talk to you too, if that's alright."

"For sure, anything you need, Will," Harry replies, a bit over-enthusiastically. Daisy nods in encouragement and stands from the couch, motioning for him to take her spot.

"Do you want me here?" Daisy asks, ever so polite. Harry smiles to himself at the question and Willow nods quickly, biting her lip. She takes a seat on the navy blue shag rug, tugging her legs underneath her body.

Willow takes a deep breath and Harry's quiet, prepared to hear whatever she wants to tell him.

"Before I say this... I just want you to know that I get it if you don't approve or if you don't want to be in my life anymore. It's been really hard for me to come to terms with and I don't think I would be telling you if Daisy hadn't caught on... not because I don't trust you, but it's just... difficult, y'know?"

"Okay," Harry nods, reaching out to gently squeeze her knee, "You know I'll never judge you, Will, you're my baby sister."

"You haven't heard what I have to say yet, though."

"Are you part of the Manson Family?"

"No."

"Then there's nothing you could say that will make me love you any less."

Willow lets out a forced chuckle and sighs, closing her eyes. "Harry, I'm gay."

"Okay."

Her eyes widen, darting between Harry and Daisy for context.

"Okay?" she repeats, a confused look on her face.

"Yeah, okay," he shrugs. "I told you, there's nothing you could tell me that will make me love you any less. I don't care who you're attracted to as long as you're happy, Will. If that's a chick, then that's far out."

"You... you're not mad?"

"Course not," Harry shakes his head. "How could I be?"

"I dunno... I just thought..."

"We love you no matter what." Daisy cuts in with a small smile.

"So you won't care if I jive with girls at the disco?"

Harry chuckles, "As long as you don't complain every time I kiss Daisy."

"I can't promise that."

. . .

Willow's ecstatic that things finally feel normal again so naturally, she suggests the only thing she ever wants to do when she's celebrating something: go to the disco.

It takes a ridiculous amount of time for them to decide on a place to go — Willow wants to hit Inferno, while Harry is pushing Studio 90 because, according to him, the music is better. (Daisy and Willow know that's just code for, "they don't play that disco.")

In between calling Warren and Reina up to invite them out, Studio 90 is vetoed and Inferno is officially decided as the place to go. Harry pretends to be annoyed by this, but in reality, he feels twinges of excitement bubble in his belly, knowing that this is his first night out with Daisy with her officially being his.

And, if he's being honest, the only thing he can think about is finally sinking into her pussy after weeks of grinding and oral.

If they weren't so set on going out, he'd suggest heading back to Daisy's so he can spend an obscene amount of time between her thighs and fuck her into her mattress. But he can see how happy she is, and he doesn't want to ditch Willow, so he stays quiet. He smiles to himself as the girls rush around the apartment getting ready; Daisy borrowing a pink metallic mini dress with bell sleeves and matching knee-high boots. She's swiping glitter over her lids, leaning over the sink in the bathroom when Harry walks in, shutting the door behind him. She jumps when his hands make contact with her hips, giving them a small squeeze.

"You scared me." She pouts, directing her attention towards him in the mirror. He smirks and moves her long hair to the side, pressing a light kiss to the crook of her neck.

"Sorry," he mumbles against her skin, "You just look so precious running around in this cute little outfit. It's killing me not to just take you back to yours."

"What d'ya mean?" Daisy mutters out, occupied with fixing the fallen glitter on her eyelashes.

"I mean," Harry nips at her neck, moving up to the shell of her ear, "I'm dying to fuck you, Daisy. And if we weren't going out tonight, you would already be getting my cock like you've been begging for for the past two weeks."

Daisy's lips part at his words, dropping the eyeshadow brush in the sink. It clatters against the porcelain and she lets out an oh, turning to face him. He presses her flush up against it, searching for any inkling of discomfort. There isn't any.

"You... you wanna do it?"

He nods, leaning down slightly so they're eye level. "Of course I do, sunshine."

"Tonight?"

"Well, we're kind of busy tonight," Harry chuckles at her eagerness, intertwining their fingers together at her side. "But... maybe if you have some self-control... don't get too drunk and avoid any of that powder you like... maybe tonight."

Daisy pouts. "How am I supposed to have fun, then? Everyone around me will be skiing the slopes and totally spaced out."

"Not me," Harry replies easily, "I'll stay sober, too. If this is what you want, that is."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"You're not twisting my arm?"

"Why would I do that, sunshine?" Harry asks, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, "I know we have fun together, but it's very important to me that we're fully present and sober for your first time. I want this to be special for you and I don't want anything to mess it up."

She nods her head, looking up at him with wide eyes. She looks nervous, but he can't blame her for that. Everyone puts so much pressure on losing your virginity. She knows she's been eager to do it for awhile now, but that doesn't erase the anxiety from it.

"Okay," Daisy says, breathing out, "Yeah, okay. We'll do it when we get back to my place tonight?"

"Sure, sunflower. You're allowed to change your mind at any point though, you dig?"

"Anytime?"

"Of course," Harry nods, his heart breaking slightly at her naivety, "Hasn't anyone taught you about consent, lovebug?"

Daisy shakes her head, nibbling on her bottom lip.

"Alright, I'll give you a quick crash course so you're not worrying yourself to death all night. Even if you've already agreed to have sex with someone, you can say 'no' at any point and they are supposed to stop what they're doing. It doesn't matter what you're doing, where, or who it's with — no means no, Daisy. It works both ways, not just for girls, alright? That means that we don't have to do anything tonight, or if we start and you get uncomfortable, you can say no and that's it. You understand, dove?"

"What about... if, like, you're already inside of me? Wouldn't it... hurt you not to cum?"

"No, sweetheart. If you're uncomfortable, that's the number one concern. It doesn't matter. Anyone that tells you that is lying, okay?"

She nods slowly, allowing the words to sink in. "Okay. I think I get it."

Harry smiles gently and reaches up to gently stroke her cheek. "Sweetest girl. I can't wait to have fun with you tonight."

. . .

"More than a woman! More than a woman to meeee!"

Daisy cackles as Willow spins Reina on the dance floor. The Bee Gees are blasting courtesy of the DJ, colorful lights are flashing, and reflective shimmers from the disco ball above strobe across Daisy's sparkly dress. She leans back against Harry, who has a protective hand on her hip. He sways them back and forth to the beat, twisting Daisy's body so they're chest to chest. He's met with a grin, Daisy's eyes crinkled as she ducks her head back in a laugh.

"Y'having a good time, sunflower?"

She nods and lifts her hand to play with the curls at the nape of Harry's neck. "Are you?"

"Always with you." He smiles, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"You'll let me know when you're ready to cut out?" Daisy asks, leaning forward so he can hear her over the music.

"Sure. Are you in a hurry to leave?"

She rolls her eyes at his smirk, knowing that their planned end to the night has been on both of their minds since they arrived two hours ago. They're having a great time, enjoying the music and dancing with their friends, but Daisy would be lying if she said her panties weren't saturated with arousal already.

"Yeah, I am," Daisy bites, "I'm ready when you are, actually."

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm."

"Remember our little talk about consent?" He asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "You can change your mind at any time, sunshine."

"I know, H." She says, squeezing their hands together.

"Alright then. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

They share a grin as they bid quick goodbyes to their friends. Willow is too occupied with Reina to say anything, and Warren's likely in the bathroom snorting lines off someone's chest. They're giggly as they find their way out of the club, the cool night air immediately rushing over their skin and ridding them of the sticky sweat they shed. Tonight, there's an energy between them that's unlike anything they've ever felt before, electric and fragile, but so exciting.

They don't talk much on the walk. Harry keeps their hands tightly entwined, periodically squeezing to remind her that he's there with her, and he cares so much. He gives her hand squeezes in increments of three, a secret language of adoration. You are safe.

Finally, they approach Daisy's apartment and Harry reaches into the pocket of his dark denim bell bottoms to pull out her house keys. She smiles graciously and unlocks the door, flicking some lights on as she walks through. Harry follows, as comfortable as ever, locking back up and kicking his sneakers off in the process.

She plops down on the couch with a sigh, suddenly feeling how uncomfortable her heeled boots and sequined dress are. Normally, at this point in the night, she's drunk enough not to notice the ache in her feet from dancing all night. She reaches down to pull at the zipper of her borrowed go-go boots until Harry appears above her, a lopsided smile painted over his lips.

"Want them off?" he asks, lowering to his knees.

"Yes, please," Daisy answers, swallowing harshly at the sight. He nods, thumbing the zipper between his fingers, the material slowly peeling away from her calves. She has faint marks below her knees from where they dug into her legs.

"You look so cute in these," Harry mumbles, pulling one off her foot. He switches to the left leg, following the same process as before.

"Do you like them on me?" She peeps out, looking down at him between her eyelashes.

"Love them on you," he mutters, her legs now free from the confides of the leather. He places his hands on her knees and slowly slides them up to the tops of her thighs. "Think I may ask you to keep them on for me one night. Be my own personal dancer, hm?"

Daisy shutters at the image, nodding as his hands meet the creases of her thighs, just below where her panties end.

"Can I take this off you too, dove?" Harry asks softly, giving her thigh a small squeeze.

"Mhm."

He smiles gently and lifts her bum up slightly, just enough to move the metallic fabric up her body. She holds her arms up as he rids her of her dress, leaving her in her usual undergarments; a cotton white bra and matching underwear.

"I would've gone shopping and tried to find something sexier if I'd known..." she breathes out, feeling self-conscious of her appearance. Harry's quick to shake his head, taking her chin in his palm.

"You look so beautiful," he says, making her face warm. "I don't want you to ever feel like you have to be something you're not."

Daisy nods as her heart constricts at his words. She's never felt so taken care of before, and not just in the physical sense. There isn't a single doubt going through her brain, especially when his large hands take ahold of her sides, pressing small kisses along her neck and down to her chest.

"Just wanna worship you tonight," Harry mumbles against her skin, sliding her bra straps down her shoulders. "Make you feel so good you can't even remember your own fuckin' name."

She whimpers at his words, her hands finding their way into Harry's curls. His lips latch onto her nipple before she can even realize he's made his way to her breasts; sucking, licking, and lightly nipping until she arches her back, leaning into his touch. He switches between each one, leaving them each swollen and hard with his spit.

"What do you need, Dais?" he asks, never ending his assault on her skin. He kisses down her stomach and over the waistband of her underwear, leaning her back against the couch. He knows that she's already so overwhelmed by his touch and it seems like some kind of cruel joke to ask her questions she can't answer.

"Tell me or you get nothing." Harry mutters, cupping her pussy with his warm hand. She gasps at the sudden sensation, her hole clenching around nothing.

"You," Daisy whimpers out, fluttering her eyes to find him between her thighs, his gaze set on the modesty between her legs. "D-don't care— just need you, H, please."

"Do you want my fingers or my tongue?" he presses, squeezing the tender skin beneath his grasp. He can feel her warm arousal underneath the fabric, knowing that she's been steadily dripping since they left his place hours ago.

"I don't know!" Daisy whines, bucking her hips up. Harry clicks his tongue and looks up at her, pouting his lip out as he takes in the desperate expression on her face.

"Poor baby," he murmurs, pressing her cheek to his other palm, "You're just dying for it, yeah? Told you I was gonna fuck your sweet peach forever ago and it's all you've been able to think about. I'm sorry, sunshine."

She sniffs and nods, blinking away the glossy look in her eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about it at the disco. I was trying to focus on having a good time but I just wanted to go home with you all night."

"Okay, okay," Harry nods, hooking his fingers underneath her wet panties and pulling them down her legs, "I have to stretch you out before we do anything else, alright?"

"But—"

"But nothing, lovebug. Told you I was gonna take care of you and it'll hurt too much if I put my cock in this tight little pussy now."

Daisy nods and Harry smiles gently, pecking her lips. Wandering hands part her thighs, allowing him to comfortably fit between them as he slowly pushes his pointer finger inside, curling upwards to stroke the spongy spot that always makes her squirm. She's used to taking two of his fingers at most, but Harry plans to push her to three before he does anything. He knows he's relatively well-endowed and he's nervous about hurting her.

Her drippy hole welcomes his two fingers, wet and warm. He uses his thumb to rub right circles into her clit until she's rutting against him, grinding down onto his hand. He can tell that she's getting close by the way her moans have gotten louder and breathier.

"F-fuck, Harry," she whimpers, her muscles contracting at the orgasm rapidly approaching, "I'm gonna cum."

Harry nods and doubles down on his efforts. He wants at least one orgasm out of her so she's wet and swollen. When he glances down at the way her pussy is swallowing his fingers, he groans, suppressing the urge to lick up the arousal seeping from her hole.

"Cum for me, baby. Not gonna give you my cock until you cum all over my fingers," he instructs, her pussy squeezing him tight. She cums with a gasp, curses tumbling from her lips as he works her through it, until the only sound in the room is squelching fingers curling into her.

"Please," Daisy begs, moving her hands to her tits and squeezing them, "I want you. I'm ready."

Harry shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers from her messy hole. He's painfully hard in his jeans now, the rough fabric constricting his cock.

"Need you to take one more of my fingers, dove. Can you do that? Take three of them?"

"How many was that?" Daisy pants out, stilling in the afterglow of her orgasm.

"Two," he answers, unbuckling his pants for a semblance of relief. "Just one more, and then I'll give you my cock."

Daisy nods and reaches forward, cringing slightly at the wetness between her thighs. She tugs at his shirt and pulls it up and over his head, tossing it to the side.

"Greedy girl," Harry teases, making Daisy roll her eyes. "Gonna start again, alright? You don't have to cum if it's too much."

"Okay," she mumbles, nibbling on her bottom lip.

"Still comfortable? Still okay with all of this?"

"Mhm. Are you?"

He smiles and nods, pressing a chaste kiss to her sweaty forehead. "Course. It's a dream come true, Daisy."

She's occupied by his closeness when he pushes two of his fingers back in, working her open just a little bit more. It's not uncomfortable by any means, but this is usually the point where Harry stops — if he's keen on giving her multiple orgasms, he'll switch between his fingers and mouth or having her grind on his thigh. He's never fingered her this much before and she can already feel the soreness seeping in. She chooses not to mention it though, knowing that if she says anything he'll want to stop.

When two fingers aren't as much of a squeeze anymore, he removes his hand and glances up to gauge Daisy's reaction. Her eyes are glazed over and fucked out with messy hair and sweaty skin.

"I'm gonna put a third in now," Harry murmurs, massaging the insides of her thighs, "Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

"Okay," Daisy breathes, nodding her head and leaning back against the couch cushion, as if she's bracing herself. He encourages her to relax her muscles by continuing his gentle massaging over her legs and up to her pussy, pressing circles into her swollen clit. Slowly, he uses his other hand and curls three fingers into her, watching her intently. It's a tight fit — he knows that without looking at her, and he can barely move with such limited space.

"Relax, baby," he mumbles, continuing to form loops around her sensitive pearl.

"I'm trying," Daisy says softly, her eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"I'm gonna try to work them in a bit but tell me if it's too much."

She nods her head and he begins to move just the tiniest bit, pumping in and out. Gradually, her pussy starts to accommodate the space of his fingers and her body relaxes ever so slightly.

"Does it feel alright, sunshine?" Harry asks as he presses light kisses to the inside of her leg.

"Yeah," Daisy sighs, swallowing harshly, "F-feels full."

"Good full?"

"Mhm," she answers, bucking her hips to meet his movements, "Really good."

"Atta girl," Harry smirks, kissing up to the crease of her thigh, "Knew you could take it."

"Wanna take you, H." Daisy whines, biting down on her bottom lip.

"You feel ready, dovie?"

If Harry's being honest, he's nearly ready to burst in his underwear from this visual alone. Watching Daisy's pussy slowly open and swallow up his fingers was something he could only dream of. The thought of finally sinking his cock into her warm, wet hole has him trembling, constantly reminding himself that he has to take it slow with his sunshine girl.

Harry removes his fingers from her pussy, leaning down to press fluttering licks over her clit. She squeals out from the sensitivity and he chuckles at her reaction.

"Lemme just grab a rubber." He mutters, standing from his knees and digging into the pocket of his jeans, retrieving his wallet. He pulls a condom from the inside pocket and tugs his briefs down, his cock slapping up against his lower stomach. He pumps it a few times, resisting the urge to groan out loud as pre-cum blurts from the tip.

"Lay down for me," Harry instructs gently, rolling the condom on. Daisy nods and leans back against the length of the couch, fixing a pillow to support her neck. Slowly, he climbs over her body, pressing haphazard kisses along her soft skin. "Remember what I taught you about consent?"

"I know, honey," Daisy giggles. The pet name makes his heart jump, smirking as he finally makes his journey up to her lips, kissing them firmly.

With Daisy's legs parted and bent, Harry wiggles between them, steadily stroking himself.

"You're so wet," he mutters, trailing a fingertip down her center and collecting some of her wetness. He rubs it onto his condom-covered cock, groaning at the feel of lubricated passes.

"Yeah, 'cos I want you," Daisy grumbles half heartedly, making Harry chuckle.

"Impatient, greedy girl," he murmurs, nudging his knees up so they're flesh against the backs of her thighs, "Gonna start pushing in, baby."

She rolls her lips into her mouth and nods. Double-checking to ensure she's ready, Harry grabs one of her hands and intertwines their fingers together, giving it a small squeeze. Slowly, he guides his tip to her entrance, breathing out a heavy sigh at the warmth radiating her pussy. He pushes in ever so lightly, popping through her walls, eliciting a gasp from Daisy.

"Y'alright?" He asks, stilling his hips.

"Feels different than your fingers." She immediately admits and he nods understandingly.

"I know. That was just the tip. Do you need to stop?"

Daisy shakes her head, "No. Keep going, I can do it."

He inches himself forward, biting his lip harshly at her tightness. It's taking everything in him to maintain his slow pace, knowing he needs to be gentle with Daisy, but god, she was just so wet and warm.

Harry eventually gets about halfway through when Daisy simply nods, her eyes watery.

"It hurts but I can do it," she says, "Just go all the way, please."

"Don't rush it, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you. Just keep breathing and try to relax your muscles as best you can."

It's difficult for Daisy to follow his advice when her body is trying to reject the intrusion. She swears it's been at least 30 minutes of him pushing forward inch by inch, though she knows it's realistically probably only been around 10. Finally, she does start to get accustomed to the feeling, her tense body beginning to relax enough for him to continue pushing.

"This is the last bit," Harry murmurs, a wave of relief coming over Daisy. It's... weird and uncomfortable, a dull pain throbbing as her muscles stretch to accommodate Harry's endowment. She knows it has to get better than this, though — otherwise, why were people so obsessed with having sex?

With his balls flush against her bum, Harry groans, his cock pulsing inside of her. "You feel... s-so fuckin' good, Dais," he nearly slurs out, making her blush. She can't say the exact same about him right now, but she's glad that he's at least receiving pleasure.

"Let me know when it's okay to move?"

Daisy nods and Harry notices the tense tick in her jaw. He swallows and trails his fingertips along her cheek, leaning forward to smear their lips together. It's messy but that's mainly his own fault — he's trying his best to distract Daisy from the discomfort, but it's a selfish act, too, so he doesn't accidentally buck up into her when she's not ready.

With their foreheads pressed against each other and quiet pants filling the air, Harry brings two of his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, and lowers them down to her clit. She moans softly at the sensation of tight circles pressed into the skin.

"T-that's good," she stutters, nodding her head, "Y'can move, just keep playing with me like that."

Harry mentally thanks his lucky stars and nods, continuing his assault on her clit as he slowly begins to move his hips. She's squeezing him so tightly and she's not even aware of how good she feels, which only makes him even more turned on. His sweet dove laying underneath him, eyes hazy as she takes his cock for the first time.

He keeps his strokes shallow, not yet wanting to overwhelm her with the pressure of hitting her g-spot. It's taking every inch of self-control he has to keep it slow, but it's worth it for her.

"You look so sweet like this," he mumbles out, spit-swollen lips parted as he watches her, "Just laying here, letting me fuck you and play with your pretty little clit. Is this what you wanted, sunshine? My cock inside of you?"

Daisy nods, biting down on her lip as a moan escapes her throat. "Yes," she whimpers with fluttering eyes. "Feels... so full and good. Love being filled with you."

She isn't lying — she knows girls her age sometimes lay there during sex and zone out because it isn't any good, but Harry worked her up and stretched her out. With his cock steadily pumping inside of her and his fingers looping around her swollen clit, she feels the familiar tightening in her core.

"Can I go a little deeper, baby?"

"Uh-huh— please, deeper, H."

Daisy's not quite sure what that entails until Harry scooches up, grinding their hips together. She gasps when she feels it — he always strokes at that spot all the way at the back of her walls when he's fingering her, but to feel his cock pressing against it in steady pumps is near enough to make her finish on the spot.

Her jaw drops open and they lock eyes; Daisy unable to verbalize how good it feels and Harry simply in awe of how beautiful and blissed out she looks.

"There you go," he encourages, tapping his fingers against her pearly clit, "Gonna cum on my cock? Been dreaming of it, I need to feel you squeeze me."

"S-shit— 'm gonna cum, Harry, please—"

"Not gonna stop, dovie, just give me what I want, yeah? Cum for me, honey."

It hits her like a train, unlike any orgasm Harry's ever given her before. She's a moaning mess as she squirms beneath his body, his fingers and hips never stopping as she clenches down on his cock, her walls contracting in the most delicious way.

"Fuck, there's my girl," Harry groans, feeling her arousal drip from her hole and create a mess between their thighs. "So pretty, sunshine."

As soon as Daisy cums, Harry gives himself permission to do the same. Her full body orgasm is the sexiest sight and it's not long before his hips, flush against her bum, still inside of her, filling up the condom with ropes of warm cum. She's still whimpering at the intensity of her own peak but manages to take in the sight of Harry in complete pleasure with scrunched up eyes and curses falling from his swollen lips.

A few moments later, when they've both come down, Harry swallows and looks down at the girl below him.

"Was that alright?"

"It was amazing," she smiles, her soft features offering an immediate sense of relief, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I feel honored that you let me be your first."

Daisy's stomach flips as he lets out a shallow breath. "Gonna pull out now, 'kay? Might feel a little weird."

It's not the most uncomfortable feeling she's felt tonight, but even if it was, she doesn't think she'd care. She's on cloud nine from finally losing her virginity, but not to just anyone — to Harry, the guy that she still can't believe is her actual boyfriend.

"What are you smiling at?" Harry asks with a smirk as he walks back into the living room after disposing the condom. He pulls his briefs on and leans over Daisy's form, pressing a few kisses to her lips.

"Just happy, honey."

"Yeah?" He chuckles, his body lighting up at glowing grin on her face.

"Mhm."

"Me too. I'm so happy."

#writing #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #fanfic #harry #harry styles smut #70s!harry #harrys house #love on tour

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watermelonlovershigh · 1 year

Text

💦 Wet in Brazil 🇧🇷 (SMUT)

AN: so originally i was gonna make this fluffy where harry is super cold from the rain and after the concert you help bathe him in a warm shower. well, lets just say that didn't happen and something much greater happened.

This story contains: being h word, making out, shower sex in 2 different positions, female cunnilingus, eating of cums, after care

{ husbandrry - soft!harry - current harry era }

word count- 2,525

After seeing Harry on stage wet from the rain in Brazil, you become really horny and that leads to some intense shower sex when you get back to your hotel.

You'd say you have a fairly normal sex drive. You don't crave sex twenty-four seven but when you do get that rush of blood that surges through your pussy, its strong and nearly painful if its not taken care of rather quickly. Luckily for you, you have a wonderful husband that will satisfy your every sexual need, no questions asked.

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Tonight was going like every other night when Harry has a concert. You standing off to the side of the main stage, watching him prance around while singing his little heart out. But after about the third song it started to rain. Jeff, Harry's manager and friend, handed you a poncho so you wouldn't get your clothes wet. You were thankful because you in fact didn't want to stand in wet clothes for the remainder of the show.

On the other hand, Harry had no choice but to get wet. At first you worried that he'd stop the show because he was getting his expensive outfit and styled hair wet, but he was having a blast. The rain didn't stop him from giving the crowd his absolute best performance. Harry embraced the rain.

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The further the show went on the more and more you noticed Harry looking extremely sexy. Well he always looked sexy in your opinion but sometimes he looked extra sexy. Just something about his tan skin glistening under the stage lights from the rain and his hair no longer in the perfectly styled curls but more so wet, flat ringles hanging in his face. Dare you so, it had your pussy throbbing.

And what made this little issue of yours even worse was when Harry sang certain songs, he'd turn towards you and give you innocent cheeky grins or those seductive eyes that only you can pick up on. You had to stand with your legs crossed for the remainder of the show just to soothe the ache between your legs.

The only thing that got you through the rest of the concert was the knowledge of knowing half the people in the crowd wanted to fuck your husband, guys and girls, but you were the one who actually gets to do it. You were the only one Harry wanted to fuck as well. That thought alone made your horniness levels skyrocket but you knew that once he got off stage he'd help you with that.

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As soon as Kiwi was over with and Harry scampered his way backstage, you made a beeline backstage yourself to go find your husband. When you do see him, he's being handed a towel to at least dry his face off with but you don't care. You run towards him and jump in his arms, legs wrapping around his slender waist and arms around his neck.

It causes Harry to stumble backwards a foot or two before he mutters, "Woah love, what's this for?" If its a special night like the night he got his banner for fifteen consecutive nights at MSG or him headlining Coachella he expects this time of affection, but tonight wasn't anything too special. Other then he hasn't got to play in Brazil in quite a few years.

Knowing people are around, you whisper in his right ear, "Wanna go back to the hotel, really, really bad. Need you." The first sentence you whispered didn't tell Harry much of what your problem was. He thought you may not be feeling good. But the second sentence told him everything he needs to know. You needed him, in other words, you're horny and need him to take care of your horny needs.

Harry just giggles at your confession and turns his head so only you can hear before whispering back, "Alright, alright. My eager baby. Ten minutes top and we'll be outa 'ere. Let me say goodnight to everyone and I'll get the driver to pull 'round back."

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As soon as you step foot into your hotel room, Harry is stripping his wet clothes off. The ride back to the hotel was super uncomfortable with his soaked clothes sticking to his skin but also the boner he's now rocking after your confession to him earlier. Harry is a giver and a giver's favorite thing to hear is that they are needed. So by you saying you needed him, it turned him on pretty much instantly.

The wet clothes are left in a pile on the hotel floor which isn't the best idea because he knows Harry Lambert will gripe about it tomorrow but he couldn't care less right now. He needed to fuck you. Now butt ass naked, Harry comes towards you and pins you against the wall by the door. You waste no time in leaning your head upwards and crashing your lips with his. The kiss is anything but gentle.

Your teeth clink together as you both fight for dominance. Tongues caressing each others while you swallow the others moans. You feel Harry's hands come down and start to unbutton your jeans and you're thankful because you don't know how much longer you could have lasted in them. You take it upon yourself to lift your shirt over your head, breaking the kiss for only a second.

After your jeans are undone, Harry tugs them down your legs and you unclip your bra, freeing your full breasts. That leaves you standing with only your underwear on. Harry pulls away from your mouth so he can kneel down and take your panties off when he notices something. "Fuck," he groans as he sees the damp patch on your underwear, "you soaked through your panties, baby. All for me? Seein' me wet on stage got you all wet didn't it?"

You nod quickly in agreement and spit out while looking down at his crouched body, "Yes, yes, now fuck me, please. Can't wait any longer."

Harry hurries in pulling down your last article of clothing before standing back to his feet and helps you to jump up and latch onto his body. Now both completely naked, he carries you into the hotel bathroom where he plans to fuck you in the shower. You can feel his hard cock brush against your pussy as he walks and it causes a moan to erupt out your mouth. Your clit is so sensitive and swollen that one slight touch to it could cause you to orgasm.

He has to put you back down to your feet to adjust the water temperature but as soon as the shower is nice and warm, he lifts you up again and carries you inside the glass door, closing it behind him. As the water pours down onto his back, Harry carefully presses your back into the tile wall and leans his head in, kissing down your jawline and towards your mouth.

Into the kiss, you whine desperately, "Please baby, need you so bad."

"Shhh, love, I've got you. You know I always take care of you, don't you. Gonna make you feel so good." Harry replies before going back to fully kissing you. He snakes down his right hand and first runs his fingers over your pussy, just double checking if you're wet enough. He can never be too safe when it comes to making sure you only experience pleasure.

When he in fact feels how wet you are for him, Harry grabs ahold of his shaft and with a tug or two, positions it at your entrance. You're so eager that you take it upon yourself to push your hips forward and that causes his entire dick to slide right into you. "Oh, fuck!." you moan while throwing your head back. That leaves Harry's lips level with your neck which he starts to take advantage of. Him still holding you up with each hand under your thick thighs and ass.

As Harry begins to kiss and suck on your damp neck, his hips start to thrust back and then forward. He's so thick and long that it causes your toes to curl where you have them locked behind his back, right above his white ass. "You're so tight, love. Feels so fuckin' good." Harry mutters against your wet skin. His words almost make you lose the strength to keep yourself wrapped around his body.

"Ugh," you moan, lifting your head forward to glance at his face, "I'm gonna come." At the angle he's fucking into you in, it's direct stimulation to your g-spot and the repetitive nudging of it, you can't help how fast your release is approaching.

"Already?" Harry questions with surprise in his tone. He didn't realize you were this turned on. You see him wet all the time. Whether that's him getting out the shower or bathtub. Or him swimming in the summertime. So he doesn't know why him getting wet on stage due to some rain has you this horny.

"Yeah, I.....," you begin but are cut off by your orgasm. It even shocks you how fast it approaches. Normally it takes you a few minutes to come from penetration alone, sometimes not coming at all unless you have clit stimulation, but tonight something inside you was different. Harry doesn't stop fucking you as he brings you through your orgasm. Your chest is heaving and your pussy contracting around his cock has Harry's knees nearly buckling to the floor.

As you start to come down from your high, you're about to apologize for coming so soon when Harry says, "Such a good girl for me, mhm, so good." Normally a guy would be upset over their partner coming so soon or when they didn't tell them to come yet, but Harry isn't like that. He's definitely the type to make you come over and over again, until you can't take it anymore. He gladly wants you to come when you feel the need to. It's more pleasurable for him when he sees you experiencing great pleasure.

Harry goes to set you down on your feet, holding you for support because he knows your legs are a bit wobbly, and you question, "But.... what about you?" Thinking he was done fucking you and would let his erection pass naturally. What a dumb thought that is.

Harry laughs and replies, "Not done yet, baby. Turn 'round and face the wall." You do as you're told and he situates your hips how he wants before you feel him slipping inside you with ease. You gasp from how sensitive your walls are. Now Harry begins to fuck you from behind. The water in the shower does make it harder to do begins you're all slippery and wet but luckily there is a metal bar for you to grab onto as you bend over.

The sounds of skin clapping echo throughout the bathroom and it's getting harder to breathe with all the steam filling up the closed in shower. The glass walls and door of the shower are completely fogged up now. Your boobs hang towards the floor from your bent position and Harry wishes he could get a better view of them. He loves your tits so much.

After another three minutes of thrusting into you from behind, Harry can feel himself near orgasm. To make sure you come with him, he leans over your body, chest pressing into your wet back, and drags his hand down your body until he finds your clit between your legs. "Come with me, baby. Come another time, f'me." Harry whispers in your left ear.

You honestly doubted if you'd come again from penetration alone but thankfully you have a husband who knows exactly what you need, when you need it. He knew you'd have trouble coming from just the fucking beings as you did minutes ago and that was super rare as it was. So dragging out his thrusts as he nears his orgasm, Harry's fingers rub over your clit in just the right pattern he knows you love.

It only takes a few seconds before you're coming for the second time. This orgasm of yours triggers Harry's and he's coming as well. (you're on birth control) A loud, deep moan escapes his mouth and his toes curl into the shower floor. You can feel him spurting his cum deep within your walls and the feeling of his fingers never stopping on your clit makes you nearly pass out. It's all too much.

Once you both come down from your highs, you think this was really it and Harry's gonna start to wash you and him up. Little did you know he wants to push you to a third orgasm. When he slips his softened cock out from your pussy, he helps turn you around, making sure you don't fall as you stand straight, and drops to his knees. "H, what in the......?" you go to ask but have your answer fairly quickly when his lips attach to your clit.

"Mhm-ugh, babe, too sensitive." you hiss from the slight pain. He knew you didn't actually want him to stop. You feel his tongue dip between your pussy lips and collect a mixture of yours and his cum. Harry has never shied away from tasting his own jizz. You look down and see his tongue coated in white colored creams and you almost come at the sight. Then he brings his cum covered tongue back up and starts attacking your clit again.

He makes long, feverish licks up and down your clitoris and you reach down to slot your fingers through his wet curls, pushing his head forward. "Har... of fuck, I'm gonna come again." you yell out. Your back is against the shower wall and your legs are shaking but Harry has a grip behind each of your thighs to prevent you from falling.

Then suddenly you come for the third time tonight. As you come, Harry switches from licking back to sucking your clit and it makes you feel even better. He can feel the tiny nerve literally pulse in between his lips. More of your mixed cum oozes out your cunt, dripping onto the shower floor.

When you start to come down from your last high of the night, you have to physically push Harry's head away or he'd stay there all night. He gets back up to his feet and can see just how warn out you look. Now is time for the aftercare you deserve.

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Harry supports your body upright while you stand and allow him to bathe over you. He washes your hair and body and you turn into mush. He's so fucking caring but especially after something so vularble like sex. Once he's done with you, he quickly washes himself off and then helps you out the shower.

He dries you and himself off and puts on your clothes for sleep. That being you in a t-shirt and panties and him in just his boxer briefs. Then after brushing your teeth, he helps you get into bed and you cuddle into each other. After saying "i love you" to one another, you fall into a deep sleep. Exhausted from the concert and the sex in the shower.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT’S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ) )

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My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles smut #smut #love on tour smut #harry styles brazil #harry x reader #harry styles shower sex #softrry #soft!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles love on tour

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sparrowofrhiannon · 2 months

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TOO SWEET - DANNY WAGNER

“I’d rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three.” -Hozier

Lately, life has been absolute shit for you, especially during the daytime. But, you find yourself finally feeling at home during the Nashville nightlife, specifically the Nashville underground rock scene. What you didn’t expect was to get a tiny crush on the drummer of the newest group coming to The Basement.

WARNINGS: eventual smut, blatant flirting, unwanted touching, descriptions of depression and anxiety. (More to come as the chapters come out!)

#greta van fleet #starcatcher tour #starcatcher #daniel robert wagner #danny wagner #gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #danny gvf #josh gvf #danny wagner is my boyfriend!! and i love him!!!#gvf smut #gvf fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fic #greta van fluff #greta van angst

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whitemancumslut · 1 year

Text

Precious

summary In which Y/n is busy and isn’t able to tend and take care of a small sensitive Harry.

content warnings [18+], smallspace, mommy kink, bit of angst, harry feels a bit ignored, nipple sucking, dirty talk

word count 3,184 words

authors note this is all over the place. draft just to post. slightly proof read.

Erasing lyrics, replacing them with other words, changing them to the original, erasing again— It was an endless pattern.

Cursing to himself as his mind has gone blank for the fourth time. So many thoughts filled his brain. So many ideas! But he just couldn’t plan it out on paper.

Today was not Harry’s day. The love of his life was not in bed when he woke up this morning nor the previous. Y/n had been busy, understandable. Too busy to tend to Harry and notice how down he’s been this week. It bought him to tears when he’d wake up to an empty bedside. All the stress of having writers block, Y/n ignoring him.

Was it ignoring or was she just doing her job? Y/n had a job. Just like Harry, she worked her ass off. But she never worked this much— especially when Harry needed her most? He immediately went to the thought that she was definitely mad at him. But really Y/n went into the office with loads of papers on her desk, times two each day she walked in. It killed her going home with files and files to handle than give Harry the attention he needed. She was so focused on getting her work done to realize Harry was in need of her comfort and guidance.

When Harry entered the house, he expected instant comfort. He expected Y/n to notice he was upset. The grown set on his face. He didn’t want to have to tell her what he needed. What he wanted. What did he want? He wanted that fuzzy feeling inside. He wanted to turn his brain off and only see her. Her comforting and taking care of him. He’s been grumpy since he stepped foot in the house. He wanted her to put him in a trance. So that he felt nothing but the pleasure she provided.

“Hi baby,” Y/n’s voice chirps. For the first time this week, she isn’t working on her laptop and ordering takeout. The smell of a fresh cooked meal fills Harry’s nostrils as he walks closer and closer to the kitchen. “Hi,” He said, faking a smile and kissing her cheek. “Would you like for me to make you a plate?” Harry looked back at Y/n giving her a soft nod and a ‘thank you’ before heading up the stairs into the bedroom to put his stuff down. Y/n furrowed her brows at the sudden odd behavior but brushed it off as he came down the stairs looking as if he never came in with an attitude.

Harry ate dinner slowly. Looking up at Y/n between bites, wanting to bring up how he’s been feeling for days. He didn’t feel like a burden, no. But he also didn’t want to be in denial of being one. She wasn’t working at that moment, but that doesn’t mean that after dinner she’s not going to go up and began typing on the laptop again.

But slowly, Y/n began to notice Harry’s change of demeanor. Slow bites, awkward stares. What was going on?

And then he said, “I’m going to bed.” Muttering the four words bringing his barely touched plate to the kitchen counter. A sudden pain hit Y/n’s chest as her mouth fell slightly agape. “I—But baby you hardly ate,” She pointed out, standing up and following his footsteps to the bottom of the staircase.

“I’m full,” He lied straight through his teeth, patting his stomach. “I’m also really tired, love,” He lied again, and the fact she wasn’t fully catching on was killing him more. Tears burned his eyes as he turned his head away from her, blinking the tears away. He swears he wishes he had the pride to speak up about how he felt.

Harry walks up the stairs and curses to himself when he hears Y/n following.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Her voice is soft as she closes the bedroom door behind her. “You’ve been down ever since you stepped foot in the house,” She spoke noticeably. She noticed. They why didn’t she immediately tend to care? Why is she now asking what’s wrong? Then why wasn’t it clicking to her? The more she asked the more upset he got. He was embarrassed.

“Nothing.”

“Harry… It’s not nothing,” She told him. “Obviously something is bothering you,” She pointed out, sitting next to him on the bed. Her heart was beating faster the slower he started to unravel his feelings.

“It is nothing,” He spoke, voice a little louder and raising his head so his eyes were looking at hers. Not very convincing. If anything the eye contact made the lie more clear.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. I just want to make you feel better.”

He took a deep breath before saying, “It’s just— Today has been so hard— This week!” He expressed truthfully. “My head hurts!— I don’t know—It hurts. I have so many ideas but they won’t come out and then I feel like you’ve been ignoring me all week— I don’t know if I did something to make you upset— I…” He trailed off as she cut him off.

“Ignoring you?” She questioned, appalled by the sudden false accusation. “Baby why would I ignore you?” She was clearly confused and shocked by his words. Her brows frowned and mouth slightly agape. “You did nothing wrong, lovie,” She promised as she wiped the single tear that fell from his eye.

“I don’t know. You leave for work at like 6 am every morning and you don’t even work on Friday’s and Saturday’s! You don’t even let me know! A-and you don’t even kiss me goodbye! All you do you leave a note,” He said sadly. “It’s like—I just thought you took more hours because you were upset with me."

Y/n gasped softly as guilt immediately filled her harmless soul.“Oh my— baby! I would never do that. I have only been working early’s and extra days because I walk into the office there are hundreds of papers for me to file and appointments I need to handle. I’m so sorry I've just been really stressed lately. I just wanted to catch up on my work. I’m sorry.”

He stayed silent. “You know I would never do that to you, right?” She questioned expecting a response only to get a soft head nod.

“I just need you a lot right now,” Her told her honestly. His voice was low and soft, looking down at his hands. “I just want you,” He muttered.

“I’m right here, baby,” Putting her hands over his fidgeting ones.

“I just— No—I want you to take care of me like you used to,” The words are low and quiet like he nervous someone else was listening.

Used to. Last time they have been intimate was a week ago. Back when Harry needed to let go and take a moment with his brain turned off. Harry craved attention, her attention. And if she was being fair, she hadn’t been giving him her full divided attention. She had stacks of papers from the office she decides to bring home and spend late nights on. While Harry’s at the studio she works as well, but Harry wishes when he’s come home it’ll be nothing but open arms.

It soon hit her whys he’s been so moody and down. He’s stressed. Y/n can put two and two together and come to the conclusion he’s under an intense amount of pressure. As he always is, it was hard. When feeling something similar to this Y/n would always kiss his problems away and his mind would drift away. He’ll float away, and all he needed was to be comforted and his brain turned off. She realized he was embarrassed and didn’t want to say the words, he just wanted the moment to happen. Like usual when he needed to fall into subspace and let go it would be in the moment and she would immediately reconcile. But this time since she was too busy to notice his needs it passed right by her. She noticed immediately and began to send him into a fuzzy phase of pleasure.

She realized he was hurt about how much she’s been gone. She realized she wasn’t there when he’d wake up, like she used to. She’s always leaving a note notifying him that she’s left to catch early hours, sending him a complete distant mood. No goodbye kiss, that he’d know of, just a note that leaves him wondering why he’s waiting hours to get your affection.

Fifty percent of the time— he thought he was being reasonable, that he deserved to feel a bit neglected. Then the other fifty percent— he feels he’s being too needy. That she’s also stressing over work. But Y/n officially sees how he feels. She knows that she would never put work above him, but she had to have that done. She could tell how stress took over his system, terribly. He just needed to let go. He needed her. He needed her to turn his brain off, and only focus on her.

The stress was eating him alive and she could see that. How did she not notice until tonight?

“Oh baby,” She immediately cradled his face in her hands. He looked down but the warmth of her soft hands made his breath hitch. “I’m so sorry. I know this is no excuse but I just had loads of work to do. I just wanted to get caught up— I’m so sorry,” She swears she will never want Harry to feel this way. She’s his comfort person, and so is he to her. But how can she not be there for him when she needed him when he’s always there for her? Guilt pains her as she clears her throat caressing the stubble around his jaw.

With her eyes peeking down at his fingers that fidgeted and his feet that were crossed, she asked, “You feeling a little small right now, mmh?”

Those are the words that make his eyes gleam. He shoots his head up at the woman before him and watches her lips move with the words, “You want Mommy to take care of you? Lemme make up for making you feel so sad.”

His brows raised, eyes go doe and his cheek bones soften. He’s quick to raise his head, eyes meeting hers. Y/n sees the glossiness in his eyes and her heart breaks.

He nods stiffly, moving his fingers so that they tangle with hers. “Yes p-please,” He whispers softly.

The broken please breaks her heart. Her sweet boy. So polite, so sweet.

“Of course my sweet boy. Come. Take those pants off for me.”

Y/n maneuvers herself so that’s she’s against the large bed frame. Patient, she was as she awaits Harry’s pressure. Harry obliges, sliding his pants off, leaving himself in his red boxer briefs. He crawls over to her on all fours, throwing one leg over her thighs and sitting down on her thighs. His legs were on either side of her thighs, knees bent and bum resting on her.

“That’s right, baby,” She whispered quietly, softly. The voice sending shivers down his spine, along with the soft finger tips trailing up his thigh.Y/n calls his name softly getting his attention and pulling him into a soft kiss. Bringing her hand up his thigh, caressing where his tattooed was printed. Butterflies began to flutter in his guts again as her fingertips danced on his skin. Moaning against her lips, allowing her to go into his inner thigh. Using her tongue to pry his lips apart and sneak it’s way into his mouth, Y/n explored Harry’s mouth before she disconnected from the kiss, the smush sound of the lips disconnecting and the spit between filled the walls.

A breathless Harry watched as Y/n brought her face closer to his. Diving down into his neck and hungrily placing his skin between her teeth, muttering the words, “Relax, baby,” softly. Realizing his thigh muscles still tense, he relaxed his tense bones and let her suck feverishly.

The pleasure was surreal, his eyes fluttered shut as he bucked his hips up against hers. Her tongue is hot against his skin, fingertips still dancing and tracing the detailed tiger. Inhaling sharply and moaning while his jaw fell slack, Harry’s breath was hitching. Unable to be steady as he was getting pleasure but just little sticky kisses on his peppered skin. “So fucking pretty. Pretty boy,” She slurred her words against his skin. The praise sending him into a mental orbit of clouds.

While her other hand was caressing his thigh the other was sneaking up his shirt. Rubbing over his ribs, up to his nipples, skimming past with a little pinch. A sharp inhale comes from Harry as his toes curl to the sudden sensation. She’s quick to bring her fingers to the hem of his shirt, hooking them over the fabric and pulling the shirt over his head.

“Pretty?” He asked, the question for reassurance and the hear the words come out of her mouth again. “Yeah,” She backed away from the dark bruise she created on his neck looking into his lust filled green eyes. “So pretty,” She said again.

He wasn’t completely above the clouds as yet but he was getting there. Just a few kisses and praises and he was in stage one.

Tapping his bum lightly, “Can you lay down on your back for me.” She asked kindly of him. Harry moves off and lays down on his back. Y/n’s quick to crawl above him, straddling his body, placing her lips to the opposite side of his neck from before. Her kisses soft and passionate, leaving light red spots on his skin. “P-please,” He choked out, placing his hands on her hips as her bottom laid up on his growing, painful erection.

Licking around his nipple, teasing the sensitive bud as she also continued to grind against his clothed cock. She received a couple of swarms below, Harry’s eyes flutter shut as his cock twitches in his briefs. Y/n giggled at the twitch of his cock against her clothed cunt as she sucked his nipple. His breathing labored. “F-fuck,” Harry hissed out. The familiar feeling of his brain fuzzing up came into play. The more gentle she was, the more he fell into his space. He needed this. All his stress was magically lifting off his brain. His only focus was her and the pleasure he was receiving from her.

Straddling his broad thighs as she disconnected from his nipple, spit dripping on her chin as she smiled. Rubbing her hand over his butterfly as she began suck hungrily on his other nipple. Toying with the other with her finger tips Harry moaned out a curse word along with a small cry.

His nipples are hard as she attended to them. Her hand slides into the waistband of his briefs. Absurdly grabbing his cock in her hand. Looking up at him through her lashes, Y/n gave his nipple one last lick with the pad of her tongue before kissing her waist down to his v-line.

“Mommy, please.”

“I know baby I know. I’m right here. Gon’ make you feel so good. But let mommy have her way right now,” Those words made him whimper. “Just wanna feel you. In my mouth… my cunt,” Her voice seductive and intoxicating. He swarmed again, the thought of her cunt squeezing his cock as he slid and out of her so easily with her slick made him impatient.

Jerking his cock in her hand as she slowly got closer to it. Harry looked down as he noticed the bruises he left around his nipples.

Y/n pulls his briefs down and his cock springs out to meet her. Slapping against his skin and going straight up, his cock had precum dripping down to its base.

“Mmh,” She smiled coyly at him. “‘Mve missed your cock so much,” She slurs at him. “So big,” She tells him, licking up his length. Looking up at him devilishly as she gave his cock a little squeeze in her palm.

“O-oh my god,” He speaks in shuddered breaths, mouth ajar, going dry as he watches her. Wrapping her lips around his cock, taking just a bit past his tip in, Y/n earns an absurd groan that crawled up Harry’s throat and out of his mouth along with a broken sob. “Oh my-bloody fuck!” Her mouth was made to be a hole for him. It was warm around him, her lips rolled on his cock as it laid heavy on her tongue. Kitty licking the tip and all of his salty precum found it’s way into her mouth. Licking over his slit, making sure she pressed down so he could feel the pressure on his sensitive. Taking Harry in, sliding down his thick cock, breathing through her nose, Y/n swallowed her pride and the need to gag as she slid him down farther.

“Sweet god!” He growls, fingers crawling in her hair, gripping tightly. “Mommy so good! Harder, harder,” He cries prettily, Y/n sucks harder the dent prominent in her cheeks. He’s grown sensitive the past couple of minutes, a hot tear slides down his cheek as she goes up and down on his cock.

Pulling off his cock, a breathless Y/n says, “Don’t want you to cum just as yet baby. Want you to fuck mommy’s cunt first, okay?”

He nods eagerly, “I wanna cum in Mommy’s cunt,” He told her. He finished his words with a small please making Y/n fall soft against his thigh in admiration. Pecking his hairy thigh, she says, “And I’m gonna let you, my precious boy,” The pet name, the kiss, it all makes Harry hiss to the painful twitch in his cock.

His cock, his cock that has her spit lingering around its base, falling down his thighs.

Harry sits up, never wanting to miss the view of Y/n stripping. He’s watching as she removed her bottoms. Sliding her pants down revealing her thighs that made him sudder. Harry whined as he grew needy. Taking off her underwear, hooking under her feet, Y/n could feel Harry’s enlarged eyes staring into her bare skin.

Once she’s done, Harry begins crawling back as Y/n crawls between his thighs. Grabbing his ankles and raising his legs. “Mmh you got my cunt so wet. Gon’ be so easy just to slip, hmm?” Y/n bit her lip as she watched Harry scrunch his face up when her soft hands met his balls. Your hand slid up and down his base, from his tip to his balls.

“I want your pussy mommy, please. Want you around me again.”

Y/n spreads Harry’s legs and he grabbed his own ankles so his legs wouldn’t fall as Y/n slid her way up, lining her hole up with his tip immediately feeling the head.

She wasted no time sliding down on his cock, her eyes flutter shut as Harry spreads her open. They simultaneously moan in pleasure together. Y/n’s pussy immediately clenches around Harry.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #subbry #sub!harry #sub!harry x dom!reader #hslot #boyfriend!harry #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #love on tour #live on tour #hs lot 2022

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harry-styles-obsessed · 8 months

Text

Wouldn’t miss it for the world

Just a cute lil something! Daddy! Harry again. Enjoy my loves!!

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

“Is daddy not coming?” Your eyes moved down to look at Alex your son, Timmy stood beside Alex both looking at you expectantly “he’s on your sweethearts… he would be here if he could… you know that.” You spoke softly squeezing Alex’s cheek lovingly. Both boys 8 and 7 had a football match and this was the first match Harry couldn’t attend… he was of course massively disappointed but it was hitting the boys hard. They wanted to see Harry being proud of them and whistling and just supporting them. “I’ll record it so he can watch it okay?” The boys nodded and you smiled “there’s my boys.. now go out there and smash it!” You smiled giving their cheeks a kiss watching as they ran towards where their coach was stood, their T-shirts grubby with grass and mud ‘STYLES’ written on the backs of their shirts which honestly just melted your heart.

The football match started, and immediately it was successful, your boys doing you proud- scoring two goals instantly. What they didn’t know was that you and Harry had planned a surprise for them. Harry had lied by saying he had a tour date that evening, when he didn’t… it was one of the days he was actually free and he wouldn’t miss his boys football match for the world. You smiled watching Timmy score again making you jump up and down as you clapped your hands, Timmy instead of running with his teammates instead ran straight towards you, jumping into your arms a soft laugh coming from you as you gripped onto him tightly “well done buddy. You’re doing amazing,” you kissed the top of his head “thanks mum! I love you!!” He then ran straight back onto the field immediately beginning to play again, both boys doing you proud as usual and as the boys continued playing you soon felt two hands cup around your hips, arms wrapping around your stomach “boo” Harry spoke into your ear making you smile and you looked at him “hi honey” you turned around in his arms kissing his lips gently before wrapping your arms around him fingers gently rubbing against the nape of his neck,

“The boys missed you dearly… they’re gonna be so happy when they see you.” You spoke with a soft laugh, Harry stroking his thumbs against your hips gently “well I missed them. And missed you.” He then slowly pulled away, keeping his arm around you his eyes remaining on the boys who were the main team players. They were both amazing. You both stood wrapped in each others arms, watching as your boys did you proud.

An hour and a half passed, lots of goals and lots of emotions and as the boys scored again the coach blew his whistle pointing in the direction of your sons’ goal- they had won the match. You grinned clapping your hands, Harry joining you before he placed two fingers either side of his lips as he whistled loudly that whistle travelling far both boys hearing it Timmy and Alex snapping their heads in the direction of the whistle before their eyes lit up, tears glossing over their eyes “daddy!!” Alex was first to move sprinting over to Harry before colliding into the man’s embrace, Timmy walking over hand covering his mouth as tears streamed down his cheeks. He was a daddy’s boy, certainly, he missed Harry so much that it was often incredibly difficult for him to sleep at night without being tucked in by harry. Alex gripped onto Harry, arms locked around his neck before Harry focused on Timmy holding one arm out for the boy but the poor boy was starstruck

“I thought you weren’t coming” he cried out softly Harry’s heart breaking, Harry slowly letting go of Alex pressing a kiss to his head before standing up and walking to Timmy “heyy..” he soothed crouching down before he pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, mate..” Harry muttered softly Timmy gripping onto the man nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck “I missed you…” “I missed you too,” Alex soon stood in front of Harry, Harry smiling softly extending one arm out towards him, him happily rushing into his arms as Harry held his boys…. His beautiful little family. You snapped a quick picture a happy smile on your face. Your boys had done you proud… but also done you proud for always being their honest self. Not afraid to show their emotion. Harry then slowly stood up with both boys in his arms, squishing them together as they burst into fits of laughter their cheeks wet with tears which you were quick to wipe away pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks before kissing Harry’s his eyes falling onto you as he smiled lovingly

“You really think I would let my beautiful family down hm? No way.” He spoke before placing them down onto the floor again the boys practically remaining latched to harry as if making sure he wouldn’t disappear again. “How about we go have a movie day at home yeah? Have a takeaway tonight?” He asked the boys immediately cheering as they ran off towards the car, Harry chuckling before wrapping an arm around you his lips locking around yours gently before he pulled away looking into your eyes “I’m so glad I’m back home… for good now..” he spoke making you furrow your brows “for good? What about tour?” “It finished last night.” He spoke your eyes lighting up a happy laugh leaving your lips… you now had indefinite quality time with your husband and your boys… your beautiful little family.

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gucciwins · 1 year

Note

Are bel and Harry celebrating 1 year of HH? How are they celebrating?

Hi babes, I wanted to write something in honor of the year one year of Harry’s house and thought interview style would be a fun way to share how Bel and Harry celebrated. Very little Harry and Bel but enough to give you an insight 💜💜💜💜💜

____

Zane Lowe checks in with Harry on the one year anniversary of Harry’s house.

Harry is set up on Bel’s laptop for a Zoom call with his good friend Zane Lowe. Jeff had told him he did not need to do anything, but Harry thought about where he was a year ago and where he is now and wanted to share with his fans how this has been a fantastic year.

While Harry’s team sent out an email thanking everyone for an incredible year, and if you scrolled down below the photo, you would find the link to his interview.

It opens with Harry looking away from the camera with a large dimpled smile. He leans out of the frame and is assumed to receive a kiss from his longtime girlfriend, Y/N Belmonte.

Harry checks the audio and sees it off as he unmutes and begins to wave his hand in greeting.

“Good day, Zane. How are you doing?” Harry greets.

“I’m doing well, my friend. Excited to talk with you,” Zane answers genuinely.

The two start by checking how they’re doing and what they have been up to. Harry shares how it’s been the start of the tour and how excited he is for the last leg of Love on Tour. Zane expresses how he will try to make it out for Wembley. Describing how he can’t wait to be in that vibrant energy.

“You’re always welcome,” Harry promises.

Z: We are gathered here today because Harry’s House turned one year old.

H: The big one.

Z: This has been an incredible year for you.

H: *laughs* It’s been unreal.

Z: Tell me what this album means to you now, a year later.

H: It means more to me now. This album I had so much fun creating. And when I finally shared it with the fans to see how well received it was, it was only an added blessing.

Z: That’s beautiful. Now this album went on to have three singles and a sold-out world tour. It was also recognized as Album of the year at the Grammys.

H: Don’t forget I swept at the Brits this year.

Z: *laughs* That you did.

H: It was an incredible night. I feel honored that my album was loved by the fans and that I had an amazing fan there to present me with the award. It–it was special. A night I will never forget.

Z: How have you been celebrating today?

H: *looks away from the camera for a second* I went on my morning walk alone, and when I returned, the living room was filled with balloons and streamers. There was a beautifully decorated cake. The album was playing Bel’s favorite song on the record player. Seeing all the trouble she went through for me made me tear up.

B: *whispers* No trouble at all.

H: *giggles* It shows me how lucky I am to have someone at my side who celebrates all my accomplishments with me.

Z: It’s magical to have people at your side uplifting every goal and dream you have. Thank you for sharing that. I know we’re limited on time, wanting to respect your time and all, but I have a few final questions.

H: Of course.

Z: I know most of the album was written in 2020, but you did say 2021 brought some changes. Don’t think you ever said what it was. Would you care to share?

H: *blushes* The album started while filming my two movies. I thought going into my 2021 tour, the album was finished, but, uh…someone walked back into my life and changed everything. There are tweaked lyrics. A song or two was removed, and another was added. This album happened because of them, even if she thinks she doesn’t deserve the credit.

Z: We don’t even have to ask who you’re talking about.

H: No, I guess we don’t. Think I may have slipped earlier.

Z: Either way, I feel they’ll know.

Z: What do you think is next? What do you see for the future?

H: I know you mean music wise, but after finishing in July, I’ll enjoy being home and being a son, a friend, and a partner. It might be crazy to say, but she’s all I see when I think of the future. It’s all I want to see. I guess that’s where I am in life.

Z: Are you happy, Harry?

H: The happiest I’ve ever been.

The interview blows up, and it’s safe to say it was the best gift Hary could give his fans on the first anniversary of Harry’s house, a peek into the inside of his life.

_____

hope you enjoyed this little blurb amores 🤍

#harry styles #harry's house #love on tour #love on tour series #harry x reader #harry x bel #harry styles x reader #fan fiction #harry styles story #harry styles fluff

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yeahimwiththeband · 2 years

Text

-> with the band chapter 8

smoke and sugar

warning: heavy breathing, angst, make out session

A/N: there is SO MUCH DRAMA in this chapter. i don’t know why i added the photo of harry holding out the flower - just seemed like kind of his vibe this chapter (sad!harry). love on tour, harry styles au, slow burn romance

word count: 4.12k

It felt like slow motion to Izzy.

George took her hand, intertwining their ring and pinky fingers, and tugged her out of the green room, leaving his band behind. They passed through coloured curtains and they walked down the hallway toward the stage door exit, past Naomi and Meg, past the Starer, burning holes into her back. She couldn’t feel the floor against her shoes; they were a little tipsy, and Izzy had gone through most of a joint herself. They were in the van, and then the lobby, the elevator, holding hands the whole way. Izzy thought she saw a camera flash outside the entrance.

Then they were in the hotel room, George’s hotel room. It was so plush and quiet Izzy could hear her heart beat. She could feel it everywhere: in her feet and in her hands.

She wasn’t afraid anymore.

George dropped his keycard on the table and pulled out his phone, letting go of her hand. He ran a finger from her neck to the small of her back, over her new bustier and onto her bare skin. The lights in the room were low; he didn’t turn them on.

The music in the room flitted through songs too fast for Izzy to tell what they were. George landed on something fast and dreamy: she recognized it as something by Baths, Static Dream. A song from the green room on one of the Starer’s playlists. Her heartbeat matched the music.

George went over to a glass bar cart in the corner of the room and poured something dark into two short glasses. The song sped up and the base kicked in. Izzy crossed the room to George and ran a finger down his back over his shirt, from his neck to the small of his back, copying him. Then she raised both hands to his hips, and pushed his shirt up. She didn’t know what she was doing. But she wanted it so badly. She had waited such a long time. He pulled it off and turned around. His lips were on hers again, kissing her quickly, teasing her, biting her lower lip lightly. His teeth grazed her neck before before he sucked the sensitive skin into his mouth. Izzy’s nipples hardened painfully against the tight crop top. He rolled it up and she raised her arms so he could push it over her head.

Is this how it feels? Is this how it’s supposed to feel? She felt so nervous, needles of excitement pierced her skin, and the air felt electric, vibrating with static. She could see stone skyscrapers with gold tops out the window, hear muffled sirens and car horns down below. She didn’t feel like she was outside, looking in anymore; she was finally where she wanted to be, inside, and alive.

She pressed her body to his and he buried his face in her neck, kissing down her chest. He looked up suddenly, and said: “You’re so pretty.” He was like a drug.

He slipped her skirt off and edged her underwear down her thighs, running his fingertips along her slit from the outside. Izzy gasped. He traced his fingertips from his other hand down her side and she shivered. She wound her hands through his hair.

I don’t have to tell him, do I? Izzy thought. I don’t have to tell him.

He dropped his middle finger into her panties and stroked her clit. Izzy moaned. He rubbed it lightly, teasing her, speeding up. She could feel the ridges in his fingerprints against it. She fumbled with the button on his jeans.

The room lit up in a sudden flare of light, and then another one, like lightning. Izzy closed her eyes.

George rushed to the window and shut it.

“Probably just the cameras for Harry,” Izzy said. “They’re always waiting outside for him when he comes back from the show.”

“We’re too high up,” George said. “Doesn’t make sense.” George peered around the edge of the curtain. Izzy pulled her underwear up and put her hand on his back. The song ended and the room went silent. Another flash burst around the curtains.

“That’s so weird,” said George. “I have to go check it out.”

“Now?” Izzy asked.

Izzy waited, but George didn’t come back. She put her clothes back on and looked up and down the hallway. Harry had just come in; the flashes could have been for him, right? Izzy thought.

“Meg’s looking for you,” Harry said as he passed George’s room. His eyes ran over the bed, still made, and the drinks on the cart.

“Thanks,” Izzy said.

“George won’t be coming up any time soon,” Harry added. “Ryan’s got the whole band downstairs.”

Izzy glared at him.

Harry tapped his fingers on the door, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then left. Then he came back.

“Tonight, when I…” He stammered, “I’m trying to help you.”

“Thank you so much,” Izzy shot back. She thought he was referring to the you don’t belong here conversation they had in the arena.

“Just try to remember that,” Harry said. He walked out of the doorframe before she could reply.

Izzy closed the door behind him, letting it slam a little. She got under the covers and fell asleep, cold in the hotel room’s air conditioning, and alone.

…

Izzy felt a hand run through her hair and cracked her eyes open. She woke up next to George, who still smelled like smoke and sugar. Two new boxes sat at the foot of the bed: his suit and her dress for the event this afternoon. Frick Fall Fete. He had the perfect explanation for last night: he had gotten trapped with the band, just like he said. Ryan was relentless when it came to planning the next shows. After breakfast on the balcony, overlooking the city and checking out the hotel across the street, Izzy went down to see Meg. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

…

“A few more days?” Meg asked, packing up her purse.

“Yeah, George says I can stay and it’s not like the store has been swarming with customers, so…”

“I thought we were leaving here together,” Meg said. “Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

Izzy knew she couldn’t hide from Meg. “I was worried you would think… I don’t know, that you would think it was a bad idea?”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“No, I want to stay.”

“Then it’s weird that you didn’t tell me.”

“Sorry,” Izzy repeated. “Do you want to stay for a few more days? Ask work! They were so chill about you taking off a few weeks, they might be fine with it.”

“I can’t tell them I’m not coming in tomorrow today, with no notice, Izzy—“

“I want you here!”

Meg pouted. “I’m leaving at four.”

Meg helped Izzy get ready. George had ordered Izzy a new dress, again, in a beautiful lace that felt only a little bit itchy on her skin. Izzy ditched the shoes that came with the dress—she couldn’t walk in them—and went with her new rainbow sneakers, her only comfortable option. No one would see them under the dress, anyway. Meg was going to the Museum of Medical Sciences for the afternoon and left as soon as George knocked on the door to their room to take her to the party.

George wore a dark green tuxedo. He looked like a rockstar. As George stepped forward to kiss her hello, Ryan popped out from behind him to snap a photo of them on his phone.

“Come on, Ryan,” George said.

“It’ll play really well,” Ryan said.

“I said no private photos,” George said. “You don’t want that online, right Izzy?”

“Us kissing? No, no—I’m not sure I want to be part of, like, the ‘content creation’ angle and—"

“Fine,” Ryan said, cutting her off. “Official photos only. It’s deleted.”

George thanked him and spun Izzy around, complimenting the dress. Meg had helped Izzy put waves in her hair, parting it down the middle.

“You look like a 70s goddess,” George said.

“You look like a rock god,” Izzy replied.

“He is a rock god,” Ryan said. “Car’s out front, let’s go.”

Ryan commented angrily on the lack of photographers outside. He disappeared back indoors, not joining them for the drive over. To Izzy, it was odd: he was always glued to George.

In the car, a Tesla with a driver in one of those driver hats and a suit, George pulled Izzy over to his side and took out her phone. “Just for you,” he said. He turned the camera around and took a video, saying, “just here with this amazing woman.” Izzy put her hands over her face. George pried them away. “Look at how pretty she is,” George said. Izzy wondered internally: did they make George in a lab in an experiment to make the perfect boyfriend? George kissed all up and down the side of her face in his light way while she laughed and tried to push him off.

When Izzy stepped out of the car, a few flashbulbs went off—there were photographers on either side of the entrance to the museum, and they were on a red carpet. She smiled, not knowing what else to do. She couldn’t really see; the lights were blinding.

George took her arm and whispered in her ear, “inside it’s just you and me.” He kissed her earlobe and then led her up the stairs and into a room that looked like it was decorated for a lavish wedding, flowers hanging from the ceiling and huge sprays of greenery in large planters under gold and green lights. The room had a domed glass ceiling, like a greenhouse, and a fountain surrounded by columns. Izzy had never been anywhere like this.

Once Izzy’s eyes adjusted, she could see that it was a truly boujee crowd. George seemed to know them; they were instantly swarmed by couples in their age.

“Patty! Samson! And this must be Georgina—“ George shook hands with his buddies and air kissed their female partners.

“You look well, man,” one of the guys said. “Doing much better, I see.” George thanked him and guided Izzy to another set of friends.

Izzy introduced herself, and George interjected to say that she worked in fashion. The women wore glittering gowns with intricate beading and delicate draping that made a whisper sound as they walked on towering heels. Izzy was surprised that he knew this crowd; she thought this was just an event for him, and that they grew up in similar circumstances.

“What house do you work for?” A petite and stunning woman with pin-straight black hair asked Izzy.

“House?” Izzy replied, confused.

“Are you under Chiuri? Burton?”

Izzy felt like she was trapped in Devil Wears Prada, at the beginning of the movie before the main character learned anything about fashion. “My mom owns an independent line and does her own designs,” Izzy said. The lie fell out of her mouth so easily. She chastised herself for saying line and not store.

“Oh, fantastic! An indie line!” the woman replied. They were trying to be nice to her. Another chimed in: “I’m sure she’ll be the next Sarah. What’s the name of the line?” Another said: “I just love what Alessandro is doing.” She gestured toward Izzy’s dress.

“Thank you,” Izzy said. “Your dress is beautiful, too.”

“Ugh, ready to wear,” the woman replied. “You know how it is.”

Izzy laughed in reply. She had no idea what was going on. All her worst instincts were at work: she felt desperate to please these people and fit in, to not embarrass George. She felt her cheeks burn. But she told herself to relax. She could hang—the last two weeks had shown her that.

“My mom is more of a bespoke tailor than a designer,” Izzy said.

“That’s so cute! She does all custom work?” The woman replied. Izzy could feel the woman tuning her out. But she felt oddly okay with it—the relief from being honest outweighed the pain of rejection. Her desperation faded.

“Yes, all her own stuff. About eight years ago she inherited a store that my grandmother started way back in the 70s.”

“That’s great. You sound like a good fit for him. What a nice change, right?”

“Thanks,” Izzy said, not really understanding what she meant. Change from what? Good fit, why?

George pulled her aside. “None of your friends are here?” George asked.

“This isn’t really my crowd,” Izzy said.

Lunch was five courses of foams, tiny crackers, and meat in forms she had never seen. From her chair, Izzy could see into a very manicured, but beautiful courtyard with a pond full of lilies. She recognized it instantly from one of her secret boards on Pinterest. The lilies were the only wild things in the very manicured landscape.

Dancing after lunch happened out there on the grass—some of the women struggled in their heels, and Izzy was surprised to see some switch to bare feet. She pulled up her dress to show off her running shoes when George wasn’t looking, and was met with laughing approval and some applause.

George tapped his fingers on her back as the music started. A brass band stood under a colonnade outside, and they struck up Only Have Eyes For You by the Flamingos. A singer in an old-timey suit crooned into an old fashioned microphone:

My love must be a kind of blind love

I can’t see anything but you

Izzy remembered what Harry had taught her, and she danced with George in a small circle among the other couples. The air was just beginning to turn crisp, and the first leaves were on the ground. George chatted to the other dancers as they passed them. Izzy’s phone buzzed, and after the song ended, she stepped aside to check her messages.

omg are you okay?

It was from Lauren, one of the married’s (Meg’s married friends). She was still typing.

Izzy began to feel needles of anxiety through her scalp and arms. What had happened? Was it her mom? Another accident?

what can I do to help? I can’t reach meg rn

can I call you?

Just as Izzy was typing her reply, her phone rang. It was Lauren, in a panic. “I can’t believe Lydia got you mixed up in this,” she said. “This is so like her. I’m sure they’ll take them down if you ask. I can write you something.”

“Take what down? What’s going on?”

“Oh god, Izzy,” Lauren said, “I’m sorry. The photos. I just refreshed The Daily Mail and some photos of… you came up.”

“What photos?”

George wandered into the room, looking for her. Lauren sent a link and Izzy opened it.

Her jaw dropped open.

“What is that?” George asked.

It was a story, published online, about Jess Harper’s band lead guitarist and his new mystery girlfriend.

With photos from last night.

Through the window, into their room.

Izzy’s face was blurry, but if you knew her, you knew it was her. And she was half naked, George’s face buried in her neck.

“What is this?” George said. He pulled out his phone. “Ryan! What is this?”

They raced back to the hotel, Izzy trying not to throw up. George berated Ryan the entire drive, imploring him to make them take the photos down and find the money. Ryan insisted he had nothing to do with it.

Three cameramen waited for them in front of the lobby. “No, the back. We’re going to the back,” George said. His ear was still glued to the phone. The driver peeled out and they had to run from the car into the back entrance, where Tara was waiting to greet them at the service elevator.

“I’m so sorry, Izzy,” Tara said. “I don’t think anyone knows it’s you yet. Nobody took photos of you together at this thing this afternoon, right?” Izzy was shaking.

Tara went up in the elevator with them, George disappearing to go find Ryan. Izzy found Meg back in their room.

“It’s going to be okay,” Meg said. She sat on the bed with a laptop on her lap, Lydia pacing on her phone in front of them.

“Where is that asshole?” Lydia asked.

“With Ryan,” Tara said.

“Lydia, I don’t think he knew—” Izzy started, but Lydia was already out the door.

Meg showed Izzy her laptop screen. Lauren was a lawyer and had helped her draft a note:

To whom it may concern,

This notice is to inform you that I would like to have a series of images deleted from your website and all other properties. These photos were taken in a private residence…

The letter went on with a bunch of scary legal terms, like without permission, cease and desist, immediately remove, consider further legal action. Meg hit send.

Harry stopped in the doorway. Probably here to gloat about how right he was, Izzy thought.

“Please fuck off,” Izzy said. He set a cup of tea down beside her.

“They’re still up?” He asked.

“Yes, yes. We’re trying to fix it now, we wrote a letter,” Tara said. “Ryan says his hands are tied, whatever that means.”

“Sent!” Meg said. “Okay, that should do it, right?”

Harry vanished down the hallway.

“George didn’t know,” Izzy said. “I hope Lydia isn’t being too harsh on him.”

“I don’t think Lydia was mad about the photos,” the Starer said from the doorway.

“George said it could have been Harry,” Lisa chimed in, “trying to get Ryan thrown off the tour.”

They heard shouting echo from down the hall. It was Harry’s voice: “What the fuck were you thinking?” He was screaming.

“Probably mad about his set list again,” Meg said, trying to lighten the mood. Izzy put her face in her hands. “You can’t tell that it’s you,” Meg said.

Suddenly, Tara cried: “They’re gone!”

“That was so fast,” said the Starer. “Refresh and try another browser.”

“No, they’re gone.” Tara tilted her screen toward Izzy. The story was gone, not showing up even when she searched it.

A message came through from Lauren on Izzy’s phone: I don’t see it anymore! Can’t wait for you to get back here, away from those people

Izzy exhaled. Some photographer out there still had a bunch of half naked photos of her, but at least they weren’t out there for public consumption right now. Her hands were shaking. “Do you think my parents saw them?” Izzy asked.

“No, no. Since when do your parents read The Daily Mail?”

“No one decent reads that rag,” Tara said. “Wait…”

Tara refreshed the page again, and the photos of Izzy were still gone. The article’s URL was now a broken link. But a new story came up on the homepage, with photos of Meg and George that first morning in New York, outside a deli. Izzy had been cropped out of the photos, making Meg and George look like a couple.

“Oh no,” Tara said.

“Why would they use these?” Izzy said. In the photo series, Meg and George were smiling at each other while walking down the street, holding bagels.

“These aren’t anywhere near as bad as the other ones, I guess,” Meg added.

“I can get George to tell your husband that it’s all—“

“No, no, that’s fine,” Meg said. “He’ll believe me. But why the switch?”

“They clearly spiked the other story for this one. Someone fed them these photos,” Jess said.

Ryan appeared at the door. He was met with universal glares. “It’s fixed!” He said.

The room was silent.

“Would you guys mind leaving me and Izzy alone for a bit?” Meg asked.

…

Once Tara closed the door behind her and the Starer’s voice had faded down the hall, Izzy sat down across from Meg.

“I’m so, so, so sorry about the photos, Meg. I had no idea—“

“Are you actually okay, Izzy?” Meg asked, putting her hand on Izzy’s arm. “That’s so crazy, like through the window. How is that not illegal?”

Meg tried to comfort Izzy, who felt just mostly relieved that they had been taken down. It all happened so fast, it had barely landed on her.

“Our train leaves in an hour—our seats aren’t together, but we can probably ask someone to switch.”

Izzy’s stomach filled with dread. “Thanks, but I think I’m still going to be here for another few days, as planned. It wasn’t George—“

“Deadass? You’re staying. After last night?”

“It sounds like it was Harry who set it up, like Lisa said. We don’t know it was Ryan.”

“You don’t know it wasn’t Ryan.” Meg shook her head. “We’ve been here for two weeks, we’ve done the whole thing, don’t you think it’s time to go home? What’s a few more days gonna do?”

“I’m not going home, Meg.”

Meg could only look at Izzy, quizzical and concerned.

“I was locked up for like three years, and even before the pandemic, living at home, working in the store. Watching other people actually live their lives on Instagram. Every day. Every single day. And now I finally have everything, and I’m not letting go. It’s not like we won’t be messaging the time—”

“For how long?”

“The rest of the tour.”

“Izzy…”

Meg took her hand away.

“After last night?”

“I’ve let it go,” Izzy said.

“You sound like Lydia.”

“Good.”

“You’ve known this guy for two weeks and now you two are like, going to live together?”

“I guess so.”

“You had all these plans when we were growing up. Like, what about the combination book store plant store idea, with all the permaculture stuff?”

“Meg, that was a fantasy. You don’t know how hard retail is.”

“What about starting to look for jobs, outside the store? You don’t use your major at all. Or moving out with roommates? I think you have enough savings to do that.”

“That’s not fast enough. It’s not enough,” Izzy said. “Don’t you see? I’m going to get it all back now. The last three years, all the time since the accident. All the work, all the missed dates, all the going out, all the beauty—it’s all here, right? Lydia’s found it. This makes it so that… I haven’t missed anything.”

Meg put her bag down.

“Izzy,” she said slowly. “You can’t get that back. Those years are just gone.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Izzy said. She was tearing up.

Meg nodded. “Okay.” She slung her purse over her chest and went to the door.

“I’ll text you, the whole time. Call me from the train?” Izzy asked hopefully, trying to patch things up.

“If you’re going to do this… I don’t think I can hear about it, Izzy. I can’t watch you… I can’t watch this.”

Then she was gone, closing the door behind her.

Izzy pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. Her phone buzzed.

apparently someone inside the tour, maybe on harry’s team, tipped off the photog

ryan paid the paper to swap the photos

i’m so sorry izzy

we’ll take it slow, k?

The messages were from George. Izzy tried to type a response, but ended up messaging Lydia instead: can I stay in your room?

The cup of tea Harry brought had gone cold on the side table.

Just then, Lydia threw the door open.

“All the photos have,” she snapped, “disappeared. It has worked out how it was supposed to work out.”

Lydia closed the laptop in front of Izzy on the bed and threw a colourful boa around her neck, pulling her up.

“It’s almost five,” Lydia said, trying to tease a smile out of her cousin. “Amps on, monitors in, Elisabetta.”

“Wasn’t the last show last night? Isn’t the tour going to Austin?” Izzy sounded totally deflated.

“That’s tomorrow,” Olivia said, wearing four boas and carrying an open bottle of something. “Tonight, we dance.”

“I don’t know—“

“Don’t even think about it, Izzy. It’s like it never happened. It never happened! Come and dance with us.”

Tara bounded in, wearing a matching boa. “Come and dance!”

“Company move! To the dance floor! And then, Austin and California and Peru and…”

“What are you guys doing?” Izzy asked.

The Starer appeared, carrying a boa. Tara glared at her. “I’m not putting this on,” she said. “We’re here to cheer you up. After your trauma.”

Izzy was touched that Jess was even trying, had even been roped into this. She stood up.

“Yes!” Tara said.

“Yaaaas,” Lydia echoed.

They pulled her into the van, where Lisa was waiting with at least a bottle of something bubbly per person. It sprayed everywhere, soaking through the Starer’s outfit. They kept pouring—Izzy didn’t know how many glasses they had. They put on Watermelon Sugar over Jess’s protests that it was his worst song and Lisa and Olivia sang along, belting the chorus.

sugar high

watermelon sugar high

Lydia put her arms around Izzy, and Izzy let the window of the van down, leaning out, watching the towering city blocks pass by, seeing little views into the lonely apartments: a woman ironing, a man sitting alone eating.

Lydia put her chin on Izzy’s shoulder. A cyclist whipped past, her hair blowing in the wind. Izzy smiled. More and more, her life seemed like a list of things she had because of the things she had done, instead of a list of things she didn’t have because of what she hadn’t done.

She wasn’t afraid anymore, and now she wasn’t alone anymore.

chapter9

#love on tour au #love on tour fic #love on tour fan fiction #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles angst #hslot #bad coping mechanisms #poor decision making #harry styles NOT boyfriend #harry styles not okay

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vintageshanny · 6 months

Text

Seeing Red

I haven’t been able to get this suit off my mind, so I had to write this one-shot about it. Even though I’m the one that brought it up, I blame these lovely ladies for fueling my fantasies. 😆 @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @from-memphis-with-love

Content: Backstage hanky-panky, 18+

Tia felt like she might pass out. Even in just a skimpy sundress, it felt so hot in the arena. Or maybe it was the man on stage making her feel hot. And lightheaded. In her 21 years of life, she had never experienced this sensation just from looking at a man. She bit down on her lower lip, forcing herself to stay focused, not wanting to miss a millisecond of this experience. She couldn’t believe her good fortune to win front-row tickets and a backstage pass to meet thee Elvis Presley from the local Richmond radio station.

His performance was so dynamic, she couldn’t tear her eyes away for a second. His playful banter with the audience felt like a private conversation just for her. She tried to sing along to the songs, but it was like her brain was short-circuiting as she watched him lay down on the floor of the stage. He crossed one ankle over his opposite knee and rocked his hips gently in time with the music. Tia could hear the gentle clanking of his gold belt against the stage as he continued singing “Polk Salad Annie,” his long fingers playing with the microphone cord.

Suddenly all the moisture in Tia’s mouth had disappeared as she stared at him, slack-jawed. From her perch in the front row, she could see the way his tight red jumpsuit molded completely to every part of his body. She’d never wanted to reach out and grab a man’s butt this badly, but he was just asking for it, with the way his perfectly sculpted glutes rolled back and forth on the stage as he finished the song and started joking around about being crushed under one of the ceiling fixtures. Elvis turned his head and locked eyes with Tia right as she was staring at his butt and licking her lips like a wild animal locked in on its prey. His voice broke just the slightest bit as he laughed and turned his gaze back toward the ceiling. Before climbing up off the floor, though, he turned back to Tia and gave a little wink. Tia gasped, feeling a throbbing in between her legs. All she could think the rest of the show was, “Elvis winked at me!”

After the finale of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” Tia made her way backstage, clutching her pass tightly in her hand. She nervously looked around, hoping to find Elvis before he was mobbed by other fans and his entourage. Too late. There were several girls smushed up close to him already. She sighed and hung back, too nervous to insert herself into the conversation, but unable to stop looking him up and down. She grabbed a bottle of Coke from a table of refreshments and turned back to ogle him some more. He was still in the bright red jumpsuit, and now that she was so close to him, she could see that it was soaked with sweat. That pulsing feeling came back as she clenched her thighs together, trying to stay calm. As she dragged her eyes up from his muscular thighs and a not insignificant bulge, she saw that he had caught her staring again. His full pouty lips pulled up on one side as he left the harem and made his way over to Tia.

“Ya here by yourself, darlin’?” he asked, his honey-coated accent making her heart skip a beat. “Well, I won two tickets and my best friend was supposed to join me, but she got sick at the last minute. It was an amazing show, but I was nervous to come alone,” Tia rambled on in a strange stream of consciousness that she couldn’t seem to stop. Elvis smirked with a twinkle in his eye. “Yeah, it’s always better to come with someone else.” Tia felt her face heat up at his obvious innuendo and lowered her gaze. “Sweetheart, if you’re gonna keep starin’ like that, ya could’ve at least come over right away ta say hi,” he teased as he grabbed the Coke from her hand and took a big swig before handing it back to her with a grin. Tia blushed and looked down at where his lips had just been on her bottle. “I’m sorry, Mr. Presley, I was nervous to interrupt your conversation,” she said, running her hand through her thick curly hair, her voice barely above a whisper. Elvis looked at her with a tenderness that caught her off guard and leaned in close to her ear. “Honey, jus’ call me Elvis. And I know a place we can sneak off and talk, jus’ the two of us.” Tia looked up in surprise but nodded. She was nervous, but not about to pass up an opportunity to talk privately with the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

With a glance around to make sure no one was following, Elvis grabbed her hand and pulled her quickly around the corner and into his temporary dressing room. He closed the door behind them and turned to smile at Tia again, his nose and eyes crinkling the slightest bit in a way that made her heart flutter. “Now that we’re alone,” Elvis said in a soft, low voice, “can I stare at you the way you’ve been starin’ at me?” His eyes wandered over her entire body, and although Tia felt herself flush under the scrutiny, his gaze held nothing but admiration. As he looked back into her deep brown eyes, he made an exaggerated motion of licking his lips. Tia finally loosened up, giggling and swatting at him playfully. “I did not do that when I looked at you!” she exclaimed. “Baby, ya can’t lie to me. I saw ya from the stage,” Elvis teased back. “Like a horny wolf on the prowl,” he laughed. Tia smiled but her breath caught in her throat as Elvis lifted a hand to her neck and gently traced his fingers over her caramel-colored skin. She couldn’t stop the involuntary shiver that ran through her body.

“Ya okay?” Elvis whispered as he gently pushed the strap of her dress over her shoulder, leaning in and pressing a soft warm kiss to her upper chest. Tia nodded and ran her fingers through his still-sweaty hair, eliciting a small moan from him as she gently scratched his scalp. He pushed his face down further into her cleavage, and she could feel his warm wet tongue dragging across her skin. “Let’s get more comfortable,” he whispered as he grabbed the hem of her sundress and pulled it up over her head, leaving her in just her simple cotton bra and panties. “I’m sorry,” Tia whispered with a hint of embarrassment. “I would have worn something sexier if I would have known…” “Naw, baby, ya look perfect jus’ like this,” Elvis said with a soft smile.

Tia blushed as she reached to help him get undressed. She unfastened his gold belt, which came off pretty easily but almost clanged to the floor with its weight. “Woah,” she said in surprise. “This is pretty heavy. Doesn’t this hurt to wear?” Elvis smiled at her sweet concern and said, “I’m pretty strong, honey, I can handle it.” Tia moved her hands to help him out of his jumpsuit and then paused. “Whatsa matter, baby?” he asked, studying her face. “Um, before we take this off, can I do something?” Tia whispered shyly. “Sure, doll, what is it?” Tia’s face turned red as she wrapped her arms around his torso. “When I was staring at you on the stage,” she said softly, “it’s because your butt looks so good in this suit.” Her hands wandered down and cupped his ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. Elvis’ face turned as red as the jumpsuit, but he let out a big laugh. “I just needed to feel it,” she explained as she buried her head in his sweaty chest and then pulled back to help him out of the suit.

It was so tight and sweaty that Tia had to basically peel it off of his body. She took the opportunity to press kisses to his salty skin as she moved down his torso. When he was standing there in just his white briefs, she could see that he was trembling the slightest bit. He pulled her in close and kissed her tenderly, slipping his tongue softly into her mouth as he reached around and unhooked her bra. Her nipples hardened instantly in the cool air, and Elvis leaned down to lavish each one with the attention of his warm wet mouth. When he straightened up, she could see how much it aroused him to make her feel good. His briefs could barely contain the erection he now had. She gently pulled at his waistband and reached her hand inside. He jerked forward slightly as she carefully massaged his heavy balls and then moved her hand up to stroke his length, rolling the foreskin back and forth.

As Elvis stood there with his eyes closed, softly moaning, she pulled his briefs down to his ankles so she could get a full view of him. She sucked in her breath a little bit at the sight of him standing before her fully exposed. “Wh-wh-what is it?” he asked, and Tia smiled at his sweet nervous stutter. “I’ve just never seen such a beautiful sight,” she said as she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the warm tip of his cock, tasting the salty precum. Elvis smiled at that and guided her toward the couch. Instead of removing her panties, he laid his body on top of hers, humping against her passionately, his bare cock rubbing her clit right through the fabric with each stroke. Tia couldn’t believe how good he could make her feel without even entering inside her. As he continued kissing her and gently rolling one of her nipples between his fingertips, her orgasm caught her completely off guard. She tried to call his name but it stuck in the back of her throat as her legs squeezed around him. Elvis’ body shook as he thrust against her and then pulled back quickly, using his hand to finish himself off on her stomach as she watched in amazement.

“Wow,” Tia whispered as her heart tried to find its normal rhythm again. “That was…something.” Elvis looked at her as he grabbed an extra scarf to wipe off her stomach. “Disappointed?” he asked, only half-joking. “I-I-I know ya probably were expectin’ somethin’ more, but I w-w-wanted to show ya what I enjoy,” he explained nervously. “If it wasn’t enough for ya, ‘m sorry,” he rambled on, and Tia grabbed his hand. “Disappointed?” she asked in surprise. “No, Elvis, I was amazed. That you could make me feel that good just from, I mean without even, well, feel for yourself,” she stumbled over her explanation, moving his hand to the center of her panties, which were soaked with her own sticky cum. Elvis looked a little bit surprised and she added, “I think you underestimate your power to satisfy.”

After they got dressed and Elvis wrapped her in a warm affectionate hug, Tia looked up into his face and said, “Plus, you made me feel good tonight in a way that goes way beyond something sexual. I will remember the magic of this night for the rest of my life.” As Elvis looked down at her, she knew his sweet, sincere, lop-sided grin would be seared into her brain forever.

#elvis #elvis on tour #Elvis x oc #Elvis fan fic #elvis fan fiction #i love this man

113 notes · View notes

shawnxstyles · 8 months

Text

personal 2

DATE: SEPTEMBER 9, 2023

summary: you can’t stop thinking about your first orgasm, so you try to relieve yourself of the ache. when you’re left unsatisfied, you reach out to harry for some guided practice.

words: 6.6k

requested: a bunch!

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [masturbation, dry humping (?), thigh riding/rubbing], praise kink, dirty talk), language, and two horny best friends

note: this is a new series i plan on writing (but i don’t know if i want it to have a plot or just blurbs)!! i literally have so many requests (what’s new…), but i have a lot of motivation to write this right now, plus i’ve gotten a lot of requests for it as well. i hope you guys don’t mind the delay of my other writings… x PART THREE

bestfriendrry x inexperienced!reader

—

It’s been a week since you last saw Harry.

Yeah, you’ve texted here and there. Maybe if you saw some funny video that you just had to tag him in or vice versa you would, but you haven’t actually seen him. Not physically. You think if you did, you might just die.

The second that you rose up from his bathroom floor after having your first orgasm ever (and mind you, it was mind-blowing), you stiffly cuddled up with him on the couch to watch the movie he picked out. If he seemed confused by your quietness or hardened body, he didn’t say it. Your head on his chest would vibrate every time he laughed at something funny, but it was hard for you to voice some of your own giggles out. You couldn’t focus on anything other than his body pressed against yours, so similarly yet so differently to how it was merely hours before.

From your position, you were able to feel his heart beating, organ pumping blood and keeping him alive. Stable. And that’s all you felt from him; his stableness and calmness. Your heart was thrashing around anxiously in your rising chest while he was just calm. His lively beat was as calm as the ocean waves, so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep before the movie had ended.

In a deep, much-needed slumber, Harry could feel your body loosen up. He didn’t want to say anything, but he could feel your tenseness. That was the opposite of what he wanted to happen. Orgasms were supposed to make a person relaxed and stress-free, but your body felt nothing like that. He could practically hear all your anxious gears overthinking in your little head. He wanted to pry every thought out and reassure you that whatever you’re thinking is fine and that he’s there for you. But he knew he had coaxed enough out of you when you spilled out your biggest secret to him, earning yourself your first orgasm in the process.

So, Harry never brought it up. Not through the funny parts of the movie, the romantic scenes, or even the ads. He just let the air between you guys grow incredibly thick with your silence, but pretended like he could see through the fog. He remained as nonchalant as possible–it was his forte after all. After you fell asleep, Harry let the movie ride out. He tried to pay attention the whole time instead of pondering what you might be thinking, but he didn’t do too well. If someone were to quiz him on the film, he would fail horribly.

Harry shuts the television off and cradles you up into his arms. Your head lumped onto his shoulder like dead weight before you snuggled up right into his neck. Harry had carried you many times before, and even more times while you’re asleep like that, but the way his skin was getting all warm and melty was something he’d never experienced with you. Your nose was right up against his pulse and it made him feel sensitive and vulnerable, but also so warm and alive. It was really hard for him to stay calm.

When he reached his bedroom, he gently unwrapped you from his body and laid you on his bed. He watched in awe as you immediately curled into a ball like a fetus, trying to hold on to something for comfort. After a few minutes, Harry joined you in his bed and threw your hands around him. Your subconscious didn’t hesitate to scoot closer and bathe in his body heat, snuggling into your favorite pillow; his chest.

It was really hard to stay calm.

You both woke up and went on your way for that day as if nothing happened. You had an afternoon lecture that you had to catch and Harry had to go to work. It was alright. Everything was fine. Everything was normal. Right?

But you couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.

Normally, that would never have been a problem. He’s your best friend, so of course you think about him all the time! Sometimes, you’ll see a sign or a poster on the news board when walking to class that reminds you of one of your guys’ inside jokes that you just have to send to him. If he sees something too, he’ll send it your way. You both find it fun and endearing at the same time because that’s what best friends do; so alike and attuned that they’re always on the same wavelength of thinking. It was normal. But the way you’re obsessively thinking about Harry isn’t normal. You couldn’t even convince yourself that it was and that’s saying something.

Your mind kept drifting off to the way everything played out last week. Even when you were in class on Friday afternoon (one week later) you just couldn’t help thinking of the cold bathroom floor and the fiery body pressed against you. It was so contrasting–it was so wrong. The angel and the devil on your shoulders were bickering more than ever, and you didn’t have a clue whose side you were on.

Harry’s assertive voice echoed in your head, almost as if you were trying to remember it. You had never heard him talk the way he was talking to you last Thursday. It was deep, sultry, and demanding—something you never would have known you liked. You’re not even sure if you actually liked that or if you just liked when Harry did it. Well, you don’t really have anything to base your sexual likings on yet…

When his hands delicately touched and teased you, down your stomach, down your thighs, you felt it. You felt it for days after. His touch lingered like a ghost on your skin, etching a tattoo of himself on you forever. It was blinding and fogging your vision so much, you couldn’t even focus in class. The second that your Friday class was over, you shot straight home. You didn’t look at your phone as you hurriedly discarded your shoes and jacket and stumbled into your bedroom.

You plopped yourself on your mattress with a familiar goal in mind that you were never able to achieve before; you were going to masturbate. Now that you could do it, you were going to relieve yourself of this… stress.

It only took a few seconds before your clothes were completely off and your head was planted against the headboard. You widened your legs and watched your lips slowly pry themselves open with the stretch. You swallowed, small anxiety bubbling in your throat. But you knew what you were doing now. You knew how to do it right because Harry showed you.

Oh fuck. You should not be thinking about Harry right now.

A small amount of wetness coated your labia. It was inevitable–the second his name popped into your head, your mind began to not only recall but wander. You remembered his gravelly voice in your ear, guiding you, showing you, teasing you, praising you. You remembered the ghost of his touch that you attempted to replicate with your own, but it wasn’t the same. And of course, you remembered his bulge that was harshly pressing into your lower back, pleading to be helped. You remembered everything a little too vividly, but it made you so wet thinking about it, and it made it so easy to rub the little button that Harry showed you.

Your clit was puffy, swollen, and needy just like you. Your middle finger circled over it with desperation, snatching some of your wetness to make it sloppier. Your breath started to become unsteady as your eyes trained on your pussy, now soaking with your arousal.

This is when your mind begins to wander. You start imagining things that you haven’t done with Harry yet, but were so intrigued by. You imagined getting on your knees for him and taking him in your mouth, so you could finally relieve his bulky ache. He would encourage you, caress you, and call you a “good girl” in his thick, leather-like voice. The thought of satisfying him until he’s groaning above you has you spreading your legs wider and spinning your finger around your clit faster.

Just like Harry did, you snake your hand up to one of your peaked nipples. You found it was difficult to rub yourself while also tweaking your pebbled buds. It was definitely something you needed to gain muscle memory on, especially if you planned on doing this when you got stressed. Which was often.

You didn’t know how often you would get wet though. You hoped it wasn’t too frequently because like right now, you weren’t completely fulfilled. If you had to do this every other day, you would probably be even more upset if you weren’t satisfied each time. You felt that chase-like desire bubbling up inside of you, like with Harry, but it wasn’t nearly as blissful. Maybe the first one is always better than the rest and with each one you’ll just be a little more disappointed as time goes on. But as a shrieked moan leaves your mouth when you orgasm, a small voice in the back of your head is telling you the real reason you’re not satisfied.

Harry isn’t here.

—

On Saturday morning, after sleeping like shit under your shoe, you asked Harry if you could come over. Usually, you would have more self-control, but there was something about an orgasm that strangled and stole any self-preservation you had.

When you woke up, you went straight to the bathroom just to find out you were wet. Again. The word really? spilled from your lips before you could stop it. You assumed that you had some type of dirty dream, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was about Harry. But you’re glad you didn’t remember it. You were hurriedly wiping up your mess and tossing your shorts in your laundry bin. In some type of rush, you took a speedy shower like it was a competition.

Then you stared at your phone, wondering if you should do it. Should you text Harry? You’ve never thought about it this much ever, but one message could mean everything if he looked at it right. What if he thought you were obsessed with him?

No, don’t think that.

Texting your best friend is normal. Asking your best friend for sexual help was normal too. Right…?

Y/N: hey, what are you doing today?

You felt a little nervous. Not because you were texting Harry but because of what your intentions were. What if he felt like you were just using him? Your heart spiked when you saw the three small bubbles.

Harry: I just got off work

Harry: Want to come over?

He knew you too well.

—

The second he texted you he was home, you went towards his place. With every red light you hit, you bubbled with anticipation, drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel. Your anxiousness turned into a ball of excitement when you were actually in front of his door.

He opened it with a charming smile, one that you recognized all too well. You welcomed yourself inside and tried to seem as normal as possible. But you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Your mind kept wandering back to that feeling in your lower stomach.

“So… how was work?” You asked, creating some small talk as you plopped yourself on his couch. The very couch where everything started.

That was not helping.

Harry gave you a look, one with squinted eyes and a half chuckle. “Fine? What’s up?”

“What’s down?” You cringed as the words came out, your nervousness shining through.

“Why are you acting so weird? Are you okay, Doll?” Your stomach simmered at the nickname, differently than ever before. You had a feeling that name was never going to be the same for you again. You sighed, squeezing your legs together as Harry dropped himself next to you. His close proximity was nearly killing you. Not only did he radiate warmth but he smelt good—like he just showered in a tropical forest.

What is wrong with him?

“I’m not fine,” You admitted as your head fell in your hands. Harry grew concerned with scrunched eyebrows, throwing an arm around the back of the couch and waited for you to continue. When you didn’t, he asked.

“Well, d’you want to tell me what’s wrong or just sit ‘ere and complain? C’mon, Doll.”

You groaned, crossing your legs. The throbbing between them was so prominent, it was like a second heartbeat. Your hands balled into fists on your side, nails digging into your palms. Harry watched all your movements that you tried to withstrain.

“You can’t call me that anymore.”

“Woah, what?” Harry’s eyebrows jumped, extremely puzzled and surprised by your attitude. You’ve never had a problem with the name for the years he’s been saying it, so what changed?

“It’s—it’s killing me, H! Everything you’re doing is… just killing me and I don’t know why. I think I might explode. Is this what dying feels like?” You admitted, throwing your hands over your eyes again as a way to hide in embarrassment. Harry feels himself relax a bit, he even chuckles in the air you thought was thick with tension. When you hear his laugh, you look at him like he’s crazy. “This isn’t funny!”

“Oh but it is.” It was evident that Harry knew you weren’t actually upset with him. You were just innocently turned on so much that you were frustrated. And Harry so happened to be the only one to know your little secret. So why wouldn’t you come to him?

“No, you ruined me. Am I going to be… like this forever?”

“What, you mean horny? Probably.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Then why are you here?” he smirks, patiently waiting for you to confess. You huffed under your breath while your eyes stared at your legs, thighs squeezing together at his cockiness. You were so annoyed at his control, but your body for some reason got off on it. You needed whatever he had because clearly only he could give it to you. ��Look at me.”

You craned your neck up faster than you would have liked to admit, glaring at his darkening green eyes. A heat swirled not only in the pits of your stomach but in the air around you both, suffocating you with its tension. After gazing at your appearance for longer than necessary, his smirk deepens, which you didn’t even know was possible.

“I have a feeling…” he starts as his hand slowly creeps towards your neck from the back of the couch. “That you’re unsatisfied.”

“Yes,” You grumbled.

“Did you try to relieve your ache? Or did you just let it build up? Either way, you found yourself here.”

Your skin ran hot. Fiery hot. His hand brushed over your neck and he could definitely feel the scorching flames of your skin. Your heart was racing trying to keep up with your body’s excitement, making your eyes blown out and wide.

“I… tried to relieve it.”

“Did you do it the way I taught you?”

“…yes.”

“Did you feel satisfied?” You took a pause before responding, but Harry knew the answer.

“No,” You were honest, just like before. A part of you felt ashamed again, too. Maybe you didn’t do it right and you were just a lost cause. Instead of looking sad at your predicament like last time, Harry smirked. That fucking smirk. It meant he knew something you didn’t and that frustrated you more.

“So I was right. You just need a little help s’all,” his thick hand gently squeezed your neck, causing you to hum and close your eyes. He loved how responsive and sensitive you were, it lit a fire in him. “So how’d you do it, hm?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, walk me through it. What made you want to masturbate in the first place?”

Your eyes shot open and looked as far away from him as possible. Your body clearly stiffened and got anxious from the question. You felt your hips squirm in their tight position on the couch, begging to move. Your little button was throbbing, so much it was becoming painful.

“Don’t lie. I can’t help you then,” Harry was being taunting and condescending. A tingle sparked within you, urging you to be truthful. You hoped he would help you like before because like you said, it was getting painful and you were getting desperate.

“I-I kept thinking about last week.”

“What part?”

“Um, the whole thing,” You bit your lip, twiddling your fingers.

“Be specific.”

“Harry…” You practically whined, covering your face for the third time in embarrassment. “Can you just… make it go away please? It obviously didn’t work when I did it.”

“‘Course I will, just walk me through what happened first.”

“Fine,” You took a deep breath and put your head up. You positioned your body to face him, trying to speak with confidence. “I got distracted in class and was thinking about…you know…and then I went home. I was so stressed that I just decided to do it, but I couldn’t do it unless…”

“Unless what, Doll?”

That fucking name.

You don’t know if it was from his deep voice. Or from his demanding tone. Or his hand squeezing at the pulse point of your neck, but you whimpered. The smallest and most delicate sound that couldn’t have even been recognized by a high-definition microphone. But Harry heard it, and it made him go absolutely berserk.

“Unless I thought of you.”

“Fuck, Y/N. I’ve corrupted you, huh?” he squeezes your neck again reassuringly as you mewl in his grasp, a little less ashamed than before. “Well, you came all this way…”

“Please, Harry,” You delicately begged, trying not to sound as desperate as you were. Because, fuck, were you desperate. With every simple, warm caress of his hand on your neck you thought you were going to suffocate from holding your breath.

“Take off your shorts.” It was an easy command to follow. Harry’s assertive tone sent chills down your spine and a fiery tingle in the pit of your stomach. The same type of tingle you felt whenever you thought about the bathroom incident. But you were never able to dull the flame alone.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to.

Without another word, Harry’s hand snakes down to your waist joined by his other one as he lifts you up and onto his lap. Your lungs deflate, releasing a shaky breath full of your anticipation. Your legs were on either side of his, spreading you open just enough to feel yourself leak into your panties. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you wait for him to tell you what to do.

“Show me what y’got,” his reassuring hand slips from your waist and rests on the arm of the couch. Your expression falls in disappointment.

“What? I thought you were helping me!”

“This is helping you. I have to see what y’did wrong so I can help you fix it. There’s a method to my madness, love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You rolled your eyes. He’s said that line growing up too many times to count. You used to tell him to shut up every time, but now you’re just immune to his cheekiness. The context was very different now, and that line may never be the same.

“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. Do y’want my help or not?”

“Okay, okay!” You assured, your cunt still throbbing against the cotton of your underwear. You swallowed once the playfulness died down, silence surrounding you both. The only thing left was for you to start, which you found extremely embarrassing. “So I just…”

“Do exactly what you did. Walk me through it.”

You took a deep breath before discarding your shirt. You tried not to think about how Harry was looking directly at your body now without the reflection of a mirror. He didn’t hide the way his gaze lingered on specific parts, almost as if he was memorizing each little detail. If you weren’t so hyper focused on remembering what you did and what he told you, you would find it somewhat endearing (and embarrassing).

With trembling hands, you threw off your shirt to tweak at your peaked nipples, just like you had done yesterday. They felt raw and sore between your fingertips. With each twist came a small aftershock of pain, but you only continued to roll the bud. You kind of liked how it hurt a little…

While one hand focused on your breasts, the other began to slide down between your legs. After passing your torso, your fingers slipped underneath the band of your underwear. The pads make contact with your aching clit, just like before, but it was different. When you did it alone, it felt stressful and rushed. But right now, it feels more electrifying and dizzying than before.

Maybe it was because Harry was here and that he was watching you like a hawk. His mere presence was alluring and intensified every touch. His eyes were trained on your every movement, analyzing and critiquing you with those thorn-like pupils. You wanted to know what he was thinking, but you were starting to get too caught up in your own pleasure to care.

“Oh, f-fuck,” You sighed and rocked your hips subconsciously over Harry’s thighs. He sharply inhales, but you don’t register the sound because you’re too busy making your own. You didn’t notice Harry’s growing bulge, merely a few inches away from your dripping cunt.

Your eyelids start to tighten, screwing shut as your thighs quiver. That familiar rush was approaching you fast, and just when you thought it couldn’t come any faster, Harry finally does something. He speaks.

“Almost there already? You are desperate, aren’t you, Doll?” Harry’s tone could pass as pitiful or even taunting as his hand creeps towards your pivoting waist. But the raspy deepness of it is what sends you over the edge. Your fingers squeeze your nipple while your fingers circle your pulsating clit. All of your movements stop as your body overloads, coming down from the much-needed orgasm. Your hand slaps onto his broad shoulder for support as you quietly chant his name with a squirm of your hips. “All the way. There y’go, angel.”

With some labored breathing, you finally peel your eyes open to a smirking Harry. Your skin flushed in sudden embarrassment, realizing your position. You immediately think to move off of him, especially after just coming in your panties, but his hand on your hip keeps a firm grip.

“We’re not done yet. You haven’t even heard my thoughts.”

“…What are your thoughts?” You were a little intimated, which is something you never thought you’d be by your best friend.

You had some thoughts and feelings of your own. Yes, this orgasm was better than the one you did alone. But it was nowhere near as satisfying as the one Harry did for you. Why was that? It internally frustrated you that Harry was so good at what he did, but a small—smidge little speck—of you was proud that your best friend was good in bed. Well, you don’t know about all aspects, but you could assume.

You should not be thinking about that!

And maybe another tiny part of you was glad to be one of the people experiencing his euphoria.

“I thought it was pretty good. Pretty good for your what? Third time? Well, second by yourself. Could use some work,” Harry tried to be as nonchalant as possible. His cock was raging in his shorts, just begging to be let out for some relief. He’s not going to lie and say he hasn’t thought about his best friend in a sexual way since their sexual intercounter because he totally has.

What he hasn’t done is jerk off to you. He refuses to stoop that low because in a way, that made him feel dirty, like he was using you somehow. When he came home from work the day after everything, he had to call up one of the numbers in his phone to help settle his little problem. Okay, yes, that might seem hypocritical, but he doesn’t care about jerking off to random people or using his friendly benefits to get off quickly. That’s exactly what they were for. You, on the other hand, were not for that purpose. You are his best friend who just needs a little… guidance in the sexual field. And luckily, Harry has a lot of experience that he is (for some reason) very willing to share.

You were just about to roll your eyes when Harry’s grip tightened even more as a warning. He just knew you too well.

“I want to try something. Willin’ to try something new?” You felt the pacing of your already quick heart accelerate. Your eyes were wide and full of wonder, innocence draped over you like a bedsheet.

“Yeah. That’s the point of this, right?” Your voice sounded a little hesitant, similar to the way Harry blinked. You swallowed your anxiousness down as Harry nodded.

His hands guide your hips over onto his lap. You instantly get flashbacks from last week, his warm hands stilling your hips and rubbing gentle circles on your burning skin. But this time, he adjusts you so you’re sitting on one of his thighs. Your panties were directly on his athletic shorts and it was comfortable, but you had an urge to be closer. You needed skin to skin contact.

Was that too much? Too far?

“Actually,” As if he could read your mind, “I’m going to pull these up, okay?”

With a nod, he tugs his shorts up, revealing his large tiger tattoo. You nearly forgot he had it. As your eyes fixate on the impressive ink, you find yourself becoming a little dizzy with lust. Not only was the tattoo cool but the placement almost had you fainting. You watched his thigh muscles contract when he shifted his hips, the tiger pulsing and looking like a great seat.

Harry was going to—no did—ruin you…

Next, he pulled you forward, nearly causing you to collapse on him. Now, your covered center is directly on his bare thigh, lightly pressing against his thickness.

“Y’real warm, Doll,” Harry observes, hands subconsciously slotting their way onto that soft spot of your hips. You felt as though they belonged there now. Your skin blushed, heat bubbling inside of you at his comment. You couldn’t help but feel shy with his eyes gazing at your every move. Legs wanting to close, you force yourself to keep them open around his waist. Just like he taught you.

“What do I do now?” You didn't really know what to do with your hands and it was evident. Harry saw this, however, and threw your lonesome hands over his shoulders. His action caused you to lean closer towards him, faces merely a few inches apart. You swallowed, but your throat was dry, and your heart was running a mile in record time. You could feel every breath fall onto your face because you were in such close proximity. You wanted to kiss him badly. It was strange because you’ve never felt such a pull towards him.

“I want you to use me.”

“What?” You blinked.

“Use me. Move your hips on m’thigh until it feels really good.”

“I…I don’t know how,” You admitted, fingers trembling within each other behind his neck. A soft, reassuring smile rests upon his lips, and before he even said anything, you already felt a little better.

“Just move first and I’ll help you as you go. Do you remember what to say if you want to stop?” he asked with gentleness as his hand curled on your hip, kneading it with care. You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. He pinned you with a knowing look.

“Stop is red, yellow is slow down, and green is good.”

“You remembered. Good girl,” The two simple words made you flutter inside and out. But they also motivated you to strive and really be a good girl for him.

You released your interlocked fingers from behind his neck and bared his shoulders. You took a deep, quivering breath before beginning to move over his thigh. It was an awkward motion; circling your panties along his naked thigh while he just took it. At first, it didn’t feel all too pleasurable. The idea of it all seemed great, but you just couldn’t get into it. A small part of you was saddened because Harry had seemed excited.

Had you let him down?

But just before you stopped to complain and whine about it, Harry’s grip on your hip tightened and pulled you forward. Your heart jumped at the action, feeling immense intensity in the proximity. With the slight lean forward, your clit was pressing directly on his thigh creating a perfect friction from your cotton panties.

“O-Oh,” You breathily moaned, finally feeling that strike of pleasure you’ve been waiting for. As your eyes begin to close, Harry never seems to remove his from you, analyzing every speck of your body like you’ll perish any second. His hand remains rigid and still on your hip, forcing you forward so your clit is constantly stimulated.

“Yeah? That feel better?” he asks in that familiar, deep husk that rumbles through your body.

“Yes, H,” Your head leaned on his shoulder, thighs beginning to burn with fatigue. It’s barely been a few minutes yet you were already feeling your leg muscles giving out.

“C’mon, Doll. Don’t give up now.”

“I’m trying,” You whined, picking your head up and pouting at him with a small pant. He stares at your puckered lip and dares to kiss it. Would it be crossing a boundary? All he wants to do is suck on all your words until you have none left and leave a few marks in the process. Is that so hard to want?

“Try harder.”

Harry thrusts his thigh up into you, causing you to gasp in bliss. It was an overwhelming and shocking feeling; a single, hefty dose of pressure right into your clit and cunt. Harry could feel your prominent heat burning through your underwear and searing through his skin. He wanted to rid you of your clothes and ravage you, but you weren’t there yet. He doesn’t know if you’ll ever get there with him, but recently, he’s been dying to get there. The thought has never even wandered his mind before, but now that it is, he can’t seem to get it out. It’s as if you’re trapped in his mind and sex is the only key.

That sounds a lot worse than he thought.

“Oh my God,” Your whimpers flow straight into his ears, playing mind games with him. His cock has been puffing up in his shorts, but he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. There’s no way you’re oblivious to the things you do to him—at least physically.

Harry continues to ram his thigh up, encouraging you to move around. When he feels your body seriously about to give up, he holds you still and forces you to stop.

“Color?”

“Green, but I’m tired.”

“Do y’want to stop?”

“No, Harry, please, just—I really need you to do something. Anything. I’m close,” Your desperate pleads are impossible to reject. With your doe eyes and pouty lip, he doesn’t even hesitate to make all your pain go away.

“Need it that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, Doll. Just stay still,” You obey him with a grateful nod as his thigh begins to rock up into you again. It was so much more euphoric this way—having him move while you just feel. Maybe it was a little selfish, but wasn’t that one of the perks of him teaching you? You just got to feel and learn your body.

You hadn’t thought about that part a lot. This entire ordeal was you learning more about yourself. For years you have deprived yourself and avoided all sexual activity for no other reason than fear. Fear of judgment, fear of awkwardness, fear of trust, fear of vulnerability—sex was a huge thing for you. Now, you’re doing things you never could have imagined yourself doing, and you’re doing them with the last person you’d expect; your best friend. But in the strangest and most bizarre way, you couldn’t see your firsts being held by anyone other than Harry. Would you tell him that? Probably not. That might be taken a different way than you mean, and then drama would ensue and that’s not at all what you want.

But what did you mean by it?

“Are y’close? I can feel you clenching on me,” his voice rasps near your ear, sending a shudder throughout your body. You hum a high-pitched sound, seemingly pleasing him. “‘About to come in y’panties? Never thought you’d do that, huh?”

“Mhm,” You hummed again, this time biting your lip as your stomach churned in pleasure. “Touch me, God, please.”

“Are you saying I’m God? ‘Cause that is a great compliment—”

“You’re such an—” he places his lips on your neck, suckling on the spongy part under your ear. You shiver, shutting up immediately. Every word and thought has left you completely, fizzling into the nonexistent. You don’t know if he put his lips on your neck like this last time, but it made you putty on top of him. “Why does that f-feel so good? Please, Harry, I’m right there.”

“‘Cause I’m doing it. Little baby just needed help s’all. That’s right, huh? Say it. Say you needed my help, baby.” Why his words make you feel the way you feel will forever be an unsolved phenomenon to you. There’s a juxtaposition between pain and pleasure and degradation and praise. When he puts you down, he makes sure to pick you right up again, and it might seem toxic, but it was just Harry, and you knew deep down it was all an act. And you liked that.

“I-I needed you, Harry,” A whine fell from your lips, tearing through your throat.

You liked that none of it was deeply serious and you could be what you wanted without the fear of judgment, fear of awkwardness, fear of trust, fear of vulnerability—everything you needed for comfort was there. It was here with Harry. It might all be some type of act, but it felt real. Realer than any other relationship you’ve had.

“C’mon me, Doll.”

You felt his warm hand travel from one hip to your torso. Just the mere feeling of his presence getting lower towards your center sent you over the edge. It was quite embarrassing how his simple touch was all you needed to be folded and whipped, but you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive as a beginner and, on top of it all, so needy and greedy for it. Harry adored that though.

Your orgasm soaked through your cotton panties, while some of the residue landed on Harry’s thigh. An ever-growing smirk was plastered on his face as your heated face finally reentered reality. You quietly gasped when your awareness finally slipped through the orgasmic fog, realizing the mess you made.

“Look at tha’, Doll. Was that better for you? More satisfying?”

“Yes. Thank you, Harry,” You answered wearily, suddenly being slapped with post-orgasm fatigue. The lingering burn in your muscles told you that you were going to be sore tomorrow, but you were too blissed-out to care.

“Don’t be so formal. S’weird,” You rolled your eyes at him. Again, he’s great at ruining a sweet moment. Sexual Harry versus friend Harry were two different people, but you appreciated both. It was just the sharp switches he makes between transitions that makes your head spin with confusion. Harry, your friend, was loud and cocky with a mixture of kindness. Harry, your sexual teacher, was demanding and precise with a mixture of softness. Both comforted you in a way that you hoped you would find in a partner one day; he was the perfect example.

Recognizing him this way really put things in perspective for you–Harry really was teaching what you wanted. And like he said before, maybe you didn’t need to worry about a husband right now. You should be focusing on what you want and that might take some experimenting. Training with Harry was preparing you for that experiment phase. That’s exactly it.

When you take a breath, you’re reminded of how compressed you are to him. You’re comfortable and cozy when you’re this close, and it just felt right. You don’t remember if you’ve always felt like this, but it would make sense if you have. He’s your best friend, of course.

But of course, the moment ends way too soon, and Harry is lifting you off of his lap. He places you beside him on the couch before standing up.

“I’ll go start you a bath and get you some clothes,” Harry leaves for the bathroom, the opposite of last time. Based on the last two times, to you it seems like he leaves too quickly. You never get to fully absorb the aftermath and internalize its meaning. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe Harry knows that if he allowed you the time, you would overthink until you self-destructed and eventually never speak to him again.

You don’t think you could ever do that.

So, like anything you’ve ever done, you’re left alone to analyze the situation. You were aided when you were desperate and Harry was able to mend that ache. But what did that do for him? What was Harry getting out of this arrangement? Was it even an arrangement or just best friends who occasionally do sexual things? Was he doing all of this for you just because he wanted to show you the ropes?

You’re still well-aware of your lack of reciprocation. Out of the two times he’s helped you out, you haven’t been returning the favor. There is this unspoken understanding that everything is about you and that Harry wouldn’t involve himself because what would that teach you? Without him saying anything, you know that Harry doesn’t want you to think that he’s using you for his own pleasure. But at this point in your friendship, you know he wouldn’t do such a thing. Besides, if he needed to have sex that critically, he could just call someone, right? It’s easy to “get some” when you’ve already had it.

Your point being, why haven’t you offered to return the favor? If you did, maybe Harry could give you some pointers and tell you what to do, just like all of the other times. Not only would you know what feels right and pleasurable, but you’d know how to make your partner feel just as positive. Plus, he would be getting pleasure out of it, too. That sounds like a win-win in your book, and probably in Harry’s. But would that be crossing the unspoken boundaries of your friendship? You’ve already traversed through enough together, but how far was too far? Was he basing the limits off of you?

If so, he won’t mind one more session, right?

—

thank you all so much for being patient with me 🩷 i hope this suffices you! part 3

taglist: @pishhhh20989 @harrysslut7 @kathb59 @chronicallybubbly @clarap23 @mrsstylesss @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #fratrry #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fics #harry styles fluff #bestfriend!harry #harry styles the album #harry styles fine line #harries #fine line #love on tour #harry styles gif #harry styles fic #tpwk #treat people with kindness

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justmystyles · 2 months

Text

Series

Now You're In My Life

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down and leads you on a whirlwind romance with one of the biggest pop stars in the world.

(More Than) One Shots

(One shots that got away from me, but aren't quite a series.)

Lost (2 Parts) Lose You to Love Me A run-in with your childhood sweetheart brings up old memories, and lingering feelings. Lost and Found You and Harry reconnected a month ago, and he insisted you come along for the final show. when your emotions start to get the better of you, you wonder if you and Harry could ever really just be friends.

End of the Road (2 Parts) Home Stretch As the tour comes to an end, the schedule starts to visibly take its toll on Harry, and you can't help but worry. Crossing the Finish Line It's the final show and Harry charms you into making good on a promise you made last time you were together.

Big Winners (3 Parts) Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

One Shots

All I Ask*

You're finally starting to get over Harry, what happens when fate brings you back together?

Having Your Baby

You get some life changing news, and come up with the perfect way to tell your husband.

Wallflower

You're sitting alone at a wedding, can a handsome stranger help you come out of your shell?

Line of Fire

You and Harry have been keeping your relationship off the radar, but his concern for you overwhelms his need for privacy.

Coming Home To You*

Harry comes home early and catches you by surprise in the best way possible.

Scars

Can Harry be the comfort you need after falling back into old habits?

Ooh La La

After a revelation on movie night, you and Harry decide to reenact one of the scenes.

Love Don’t Cost A Thing

Harry loves to spoil you, but you're having a hard time adjusting to his lavish lifestyle.

The Battle in Barcelona

A crazy crowd at the airport comes between you and Harry.

Misplaced Emotion

As Harry prepares to jump back into the spotlight, he has a hard time re-adjusting to public life, and it manifests in the wrong way.

Good News All Around

You reach a big milestone in your life, but feel overshadowed when you call to tell Harry about it.

Perfect Harmony

You're in the final days of the tour, and Harry makes a suggestion that ends up changing everything.

Lights, Camera, Action

What was supposed to be just another job becomes the start of something new.

Business or Pleasure?

You return to Love on Tour after an extended break, but after your last interaction, you come back to an awkward situation with Harry.

Reigning it In

You're about to participate in your first horse show, but the nerves overwhelm you. Harry finds you just in time.

Family Portrait

Harry has a couple of heartfelt surprises for you while you're visiting him on tour.

All or Nothing*

You find a new way to tease Harry during a tour visit, which leads to a new way to drive him crazy.

With this Ring

Harry takes his commitment to you to a new level.

Veiled Insecurities

Harry has some insecurities about your relationship, but instead of talking to you about them, they end up coming out in the wrong way.

Heart Song

As a former member of the Love on Tour band, and current girlfriend of Harry, he asks you to reprise your spot for the final show.

Road to Recovery

After reading some negative comments about yourself, you nearly spiral back into old habits. you try to keep it from Harry, but he finds out and confronts you about it.

A Work of Art

After procrastinating for a few weeks, you finally make moves to finish your assignment, but run into an unexpected road block.

He's Not Me

You introduce Harry to the guy you're seeing, and you see a side of him you've never seen before and are shocked by his reasoning.

Sharing is Caring

You can't find your favorite handbag, Harry assures you he doesn't have it, but you see some photos tell a different story

Cantaloupe

In this one shot/flash forward from the Now You're In My Life storyline, you and Harry recap the big news from your family's Thanksgiving dinner.

Like Riding a Bike

Despite being on break, Harry manages to find his way back onstage.

Fa La La La Freakout

You will be meeting Harry's family for the first time over the holidays, and you are desperate for them to like you.

The Morning After

The morning after Harry's 30th birthday, you're hungover and Harry reminds you of your drunken actions from the night before, leading to a conversation you never expected.

Baby-Baby-Baby

Harry meets his niece for the first time, the joy and excitement are quickly replaced with a whole new set of feelings when his best friend, Y/N joins him at the hospital.

Smoke & Mirrors

Harry asks you to move to London with him, but a new opportunity for him makes things a little more complicated than you'd both expect.

(*) - NSFW

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talkteatennis · 10 months

Text

Body

Summary: Andrey Rublev trying to get reader to go on a date.

Warnings: body conscious conversation, no smut but suggestive

“Andrey you are a twig,” y/n stated as you held his wrists in your hands as the tall lanky boy looked at you in shock.

“Am not, I am very toned” Andrey stated releasing his wrists from your grip to flex his biceps. Which made areas of your body tremble but you knew he wasn’t wrong.

All that played in your mind, was the battering you would receive from the media about not being one of those ‘twig bitch models’ he usually went for.

“Fine you are not. Now leave me alone please,” you said walking away from him trying to exit the players lounge only for him to rush in front and stop you from leaving.

“Y/N, you have been making excuses for why you can’t be with me! Why is that?” You sighed at his words. It was something he would never understand actually you thought.

“Because your not my type.” Y/N simply said, because it was easier this than to have to explain how you really felt.

“If thats so then why do you look at me as if you want to undress me?” He said getting closer and you were taken aback. You hadn’t realised Andrey had noticed your occasional glances but how could he not it’s not like you tired to hide it very well anyway.

Stammers and mutterings of words flowed out of your mouth but nothing to form coherent sentences.

“Its just dinner Y/N” he said looking at you as his hand gently caresses your cheekbones.

“No” you said again making herself clear and then leaving but once again only to be pulled back. Y/N let out a sigh of frustration as you once again you were faced with Andrey’s handsome face.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said this time his strong hands firmly placed on your waist holding you still right in front of him. He didn’t care who saw them at this point as players were just squeezing past the two of them trying to enter and exit the lounge. He wasn’t dropping the subject till you explained yourself.

“I am fat okay and I don’t want to go on a date with you because the media will rip me to shreds for not being thin and beautiful like all the models you go for!” You said eyes welling up a little. Andrey squeezed your sides tighter shaking his head before looking you in your beautiful eyes.

“Thats crazy. You are not fat you are cruvy in all the right places Y/N and I love it,” Andrey said letting his hand roam from your waist to your hips then butt which made blush, “ I don’t care what they think about you and you shouldn’t either and if they want to say stuff about the way you look I’ll put them in their place.” You smiled at his words and he leant in to kiss her but she stopped him by placing a finger on his lips just separating them.

“Okay, I will go to dinner only if you are sure that you want to date a poc, curvy woman,” you said looking him dead in the eyes.

“Oh I am sure. The things I would kill do to you right now,” he said whisperig the last part lustfully into your ear sending a warm an fuzzy feeling below your stomach.

You removed your finger slowly making sure to look him in the eye then gently placed your lips on his.

#x reader #imagines #imagine #love #andrey rublev #Andrey rublev imagine #Andrey rublev imagines #Andrey rublev x reader #Andrey rublev fan fiction #Andrey rublev blurb #tennis fan fiction #atp tour

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dont-call-me-baby-posts · 1 year

Text

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 37

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List

Word Count: 19K

Warnings: sex drugs and rock n roll baby!! But on a real note there's also some mental health stuff in here so be warned!!!!

Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one with some closure.

A/N: Hey guys :) Long time no see.

This chapter is starting to tie up all of our loose ends; we need happy endings for everyone! I kind of flip between alllllll the characters in this chapter so we can see a little bit of what they're all doing. Sorry its a little long! As always, please let me know what you think!

Here's what we've got lined up for the rest of the story:

chapter 38 will probably be around 16k of straight smut, plus an ending. 39 and 40 will be the epilogue and then we'll have as many blurbs as y'all want! thank you again everyone who still loves this story! I can't wait to finally see it through with you guys :)

Chapter 37

Rachel wasn’t a confrontational person.

She couldn’t tell if it was just the fact that she’d been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just the personality she’d been cursed with. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do. She felt like a show dog who never learned to play fetch; all she was meant to do was sit, or speak, or jump.

That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldn’t. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak.

For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/N’s inevitable rekindling didn’t bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for them… But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally “gotten the balls” to open up to Harry and fix the “good thing they had”.

Instead of the nice, bubbly feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.

She didn’t talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods.

(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasn’t “safe” for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didn’t know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)

And then, still guided by some outside force completely out of her control, she found herself in the middle of the expansive kitchen of her parents enormous house, surrounded by at least 20 people she only sort of knew. People who ran companies her parents invested in or directed movies Rachel never bothered to watch or owned record labels that fucked over people like Logan and Y/N. She, in her pajama pants and hair undone, face bare of any makeup whatsoever, slapped her palms on the cool of the island counter and found herself smiling. Cheesing, actually. Nearly giddy with excitement.

Her mom noticed her last, letting out what could be considered a gasp as she turned to see her perfect, hand-moulded daughter in front of all these people looking the way she did now. Hair thrown up on top of her head, not clean. Logan’s oversized t-shirt over her narrow frame, covered in various stains. (The stains were an homage to the exciting, vibrant life Logan had lived before they met, one that Rachel would never experience or understand. Stains from house parties in basements and 9-5 jobs and public school. Rachel loved the spots where the material was stained blue or purple with paint, or slightly torn from a fight Logan had gotten into with some girl from Junior year. None of Rachel’s clothes had stains. Not any of them. It was almost as if she’d never existed at all.)

It was after the gasp that Rachel’s mother said: “Oh! Oh, wow! Sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed and you can join us for dessert?”

Rachel, quick with a response she hadn’t taken any time to think over or plan, shook her head. Her smile didn’t falter.

“Actually, mom, I don’t think I will.”

Nervous laughter, from everywhere. It came in small spurts, someone else’s uncomfortable chuckle filling the silence one after the other.

“Okay, well…” Her mom started, letting out her own high pitched chortle. “Why don’t you-“

“I’m going to see Logan.” Rachel interrupted. (She couldn’t remember one other time she had ever cut someone off while they were speaking, but she was already far from her usual self tonight). Rachel looked around at the confused faces around her, “Logan is my girlfriend.” She clarified with a smile. Her mom laughed tightly again.

“Oh, no, she’s-“

“Yes, mom. Logan is my girlfriend and I’m going to go see her. I think I might stay there a while, actually. With the virus and everything, you know, I figure it would be safer than staying here with all of your lovely guests.”

Now she’d done it. Her mothers face changed shades three times over, going from pink to red to a stark white that for some reason made Rachel feel even better than she already did. Her mom, after a quick excuse to her friends, walked herself up the stairs, knowing Rachel would follow.

When she got to Logan’s house later that night she didn’t recount the events of the evening. She didn’t tell her what her mom had said, all the threats she’d whispered under her breath. She didn’t tell her how she’d cried the whole time packing her bags, or how her dad had run out after her telling her to think it over or sleep on it. She didn’t tell Logan that her mom had, in her own words, told her she wasn’t welcome back in their home if she did anything “unsavory”. She didn’t tell Logan that she’d essentially been cut off by her parents when she told her mom she was going public with her relationship. She didn’t feel that she needed to, not yet at least.

Rachel didn’t need her family's money. She was successful in her own right, and the whole pandemic had given her a chance to start thinking about careers other than modeling, anyway. She didn’t take time to think it over. She didn’t have to.

///

Logan was snuggled in her bed when Rachel knocked on the door. At first she wasn’t sure what she’d heard, knowing she had already had her daily DoorDash interaction and wasn’t expecting anything or anyone else. The second knock came once Logan had sat up in bed, ears perked and skin prickly with nervous goosebumps.

To say she was surprised was a massive fucking understatement. She’d never been so happy. She threw herself into Rachel, whose arms were slung with bags, and didn’t notice the way her cheeks were still a little puffy. She tugged her inside and she sat her down on the couch before running to the kitchen to whip up some of Rachel’s favorite cookies.

Rachel could’ve cared less about the cookies, but she knew Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, she sat backwards on the couch, gazing into the kitchen just watching the love of her life pant and stress and measure and stir. She’d never looked more beautiful, Rachel thought. Never ever ever.

They stayed on the couch the rest of the night, catching up and kissing and saying over and over how they’d missed one another. Next to a half eaten tray of cookies is where Logan helped Rachel pick out all their favorite photos together for Rachel to post on Instagram. A post dedicated to her girlfriend. And in a way, a post dedicated to herself.

And it was that easy. After so many months of lying and hiding and longing desperately for what all these other couples had, Rachel had it. She was free. She was cut-off and angry and hurt and scared but before all of that she was free. And, now, she was out.

///

You didn’t see Rachel’s post, or Logan’s texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You were… preoccupied.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like that.” Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. “So fucking pretty. Fucks sake.”

You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You weren’t in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good.

The last few days had gone pretty much like this. You’d wake up wrapped up in Harry’s gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. You’d sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, you’d shuffle yourself down the length of Harry’s body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came.

Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadn’t felt in years.

You still hadn’t had sex, but after listening in on Harry’s conversation with Anders you decided not to push it. You thought maybe if you just proved yourself to him, he’d be ready. You didn’t mind giving him time, even though you secretly hoped each night you curled up next to him that he might take you right there and press your face into the mattress until you couldn’t think or even speak. You would never ever want him to do something he didn’t want to, and he was giving you more than enough to hold you over. In fact, the amount of affection and love and attention he’d showered you with the last few days had been enough to last a lifetime. Not a second went by that you didn’t know with every singular cell in your body how much he loved you. He wouldn’t allow it.

Even when you had a nightmare a few days before, Harry had been awake and alert the moment you needed him. You didn’t even have time to get to the worst part of the dream and startle yourself awake before he’d pulled you on top of his body and began whispering in your ears. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and his legs around your thighs, tying you to his front. You weren’t scared when you woke up and didn’t pull away from the touch. “I’m right here.” He’d whispered, shifting his weight to rock you slightly. “I’m right here. It’s okay, flower. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

He must have heard you mumbling his name in your sleep, the same way you always did when you had these nightmares. You called his name like always and he was there. You were calm and back to sleep in a matter of minutes, something you wouldn’t have even thought possible a few months ago.

And now, on another beautiful morning, you were leaving the half-moon indents of your nails on the inside of Harry’s thighs. Feeling more alive than ever. On top of the world. Like the luckiest girl alive.

///

Anders wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

He’d not been doing his weekly therapy sessions like he was meant to, and hadn’t been for weeks. Talking about his feelings with some stiff old man was bad enough, and doing it over a Zoom call was just downright unbearable. He’d rather do anything else, and so he did. He crocheted and wrote songs and annoyed his parents to no end practicing his trumpet from middle school. He painted and talked to Harry and Y/N and learned the dances from three separate Justin Bieber music videos to a fucking T. He kept himself busy by any means necessary, because he had to. He even built a tiny house for a lady bug he found on his window still out of a cereal box. The ladybug died the next morning, but Anders liked to think it died comfortably at least.

But on this day, Anders was inclined by some outside force (perhaps the same force that had moved Rachel all the way in LA) to find his laptop under all the dirty laundry and half-finished projects on the floor and open up the stupid fucking website and message his stupid fucking therapist that he was actually going to show today.

He found himself talking about Y/N, and Jena, and Macy from the grocery store. (She’d been the one to stop him from nearly overdosing that day he’d bought all those drugs, after all. He thought about her all the time lately. He thought about her every time he ate one of his oranges he’d bought that day, which was a lot. His mom told him he had to finish the entire bag as some sort of fucked up punishment, he supposed). His therapist, with his cable knit sweater and glasses slid half-way down his nose, had to basically force Anders to talk about his parents.

“It sucks, man. What else do you want to know?”

The doctor, Dale, narrowed his eyes at Anders’ answer to his question about how things were ‘at home’. When he realized Anders wasn’t going to continue, he sighed and lifted his hands.

“Could you be any more specific about what sucks so bad, man?” Dale retorted. Over the weeks that Anders had spent with him before the pandemic, Dale had learned it worked better if he talked to Anders the way Anders talked to him. Dale thought, genuinely, that they bonded this way. Anders just thought it was funny.

“Everything about it sucks.” Was all he could think to say in return.

By the end of the session, Dale had somehow convinced him that spending more time with his parents might help. If he didn’t put so much space between them, he said, he may feel less suffocated. So, in a desperate fucking attempt to feel a little less crazy, Anders decided to do just that.

Every night his dad would hobble up the stairs and knock softly on the door and invite Anders to dinner, and every night Anders would decline. (Ever since the incident with the drugs, Andy couldn’t stand looking either of them in the eyes.) When Anders would inevitably turn him away, his dad would say something about how he would save some if he changed his mind and Anders would mumble a quick “thank you” and that would be that. He knew his dad was trying his best, and he believed it when he said he missed Anders and wanted to spend time with him. His mom never made any attempt to talk to him after the drug incident. Anders was okay with that, he thought.

To put it plainly, Anders’ dad was fucking bamboozled when he accepted his offer to come to dinner later that night. He’d been leaning against the door, his ear pressed to the wood to hear Anders’ response when it had been thrown open to showcase a bright-eyed and surprisingly content son on the other side. “I’d like that.” Anders smiled, feeling like this was his first big step into fixing everything. “Thank you for asking.”

His dad had followed him down the steps, even the sound of his socked feet on the stairs sounding confused. Anders spun around the corner into the kitchen, throwin’ a little razzle dazzle on his triumphant return to the family unit as he found a seat at the table. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He felt almost excited to be here.

“Whatcha makin’?”

His mom, at the sound of her only son’s voice, turned to face him and froze, serving spoon still in hand and dripping twice onto the tiled floor before she looked back at her husband.

“I told you I didn’t make enough for three.” She said to him.

Oh.

And, just like that, it was over. The high Anders had felt following his talk with Dale fizzled out and settled into an ache in his abdomen. He was stunned for a second, looking back and forth between his parents. Surely he misunderstood.

“I’m sure there’s enough.” His dad said, an over the top sunshine in his voice. When she didn’t answer right away his dad spoke again, his sunshine feeling a bit more shaded. “He wants to have dinner with us, hun.”

“Well, there’s not enough.” She reiterated, literally throwing her spoon onto the stove. “If he wanted to eat he should’ve said something. Since when does he want to spend time with us?”

“He can have mine, then.”

Before anyone else could speak, Anders stood up. He felt so small and yet too big, like he was taking up too much space no matter how far he folded into himself.

“It’s alright, Dad.” Anders smiled, turning to face his mom. She met his eyes, finally, though she couldn’t have looked more uninterested. “I have oranges upstairs.”

And he turned and walked back up the same stairs to his same room and collapsed on that same bed he spent all day every day in. He could hear the bickering, just like when he was a child. He covered his head with a pillow but he could still hear them.

“That was cruel.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with us! Why should I continue making him dinner if he never eats any? I’m tired of cleaning out the tupperwares you insist on saving for him.”

“I’ll clean them, then.”

There was a pause. Dishes clanging in the sink.

“Why do you do this? Why do you defend him after the way he’s talked to us?”

“You’re holding him hostage here! What is he supposed to do?”

“Be grateful, I don’t know!”

Anders turned under his covers. He decided already he wouldn’t cry, but it was threatening to gurgle out of him anyway.

“He is our son. We’re supposed to be helping. You read all those books… You- you went to classes! And now you’re not even going to let the boy eat?”

“I'm tired of the books! I'm tired of the classes, and the coddling, and the fighting! I give up. I give up, okay? I’m done!”

“You give up? Haven’t we failed the boy enough?”

“He failed us! We gave him everything. He could’ve been anything and, and, and… and look at him! You’re proud of that? I’m tired of feeling responsible for how he turned out. He did that on his own.”

“Damn right I’m proud. He may have his… struggles, but he is not a failure. The boys a goddamn rockstar!”

“He’s not a rockstar, he’s a junkie. And I’m tired of pretending that he’s not.”

Now, to anyone else hearing this conversation, there’s a few things you might miss.

Number one: Anders’ dad never cursed. He had, in all of his son’s life, uttered at most 4 curse words and even that was a stretch. Him using the word “damn”, and taking the lord's name in vain? Anders’ could’ve thought hell had finally frozen over!

Number two: Anders couldn’t remember a single time in his life that either of his parents had said they were proud of him. So, even if he hadn’t said it to his face, his dad saying those words was like winning the fucking lottery.

Number three: In all of his years as a semi-professional drug addict, Anders had never been called a junkie by anyone. He hadn’t even seen it online, and he was called his fair share of names. So, to hear his mom say it… It was like a kick in the back of the head. It was like a blow right in his chest. It was worse than going to therapy and making phone calls and being punched in the nose. It was worse than anything he’d ever felt before.

He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime.

“I’m heading out.” He said, spinning the keys around his finger. “Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have been hoping she would stop him. She didn’t.

“I would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as you’ve already eaten I suppose you’re about ready for bed.” He continued. His dad followed him to the door.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. “We can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.”

Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.

“I’m just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?”

His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. “Okay, son.”

“Okay.” He said back.

Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now she’d say sorry and tell him not to go. She’d tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didn’t.

“I’ll be home by 10.” He decided for himself. Maybe she’d hold him to it. Maybe she’d call a hundred times if he wasn’t home in two hours. Maybe she’d do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead.

She didn’t say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway.

“Call me if you need anything.” He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. “I’ll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?”

Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to hug him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Anders’ hair the way he had when he was only a kid.

“I trust you.” He whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

///

The drive to Taco Bell didn’t take too long. Anders turned at the second stop light, hooked a left by the library, and took two more rights until he had made his way into the drive thru. He was the only car there, which was fitting.

He ordered himself two soft tacos, a quesadilla, a cheesy gorrida crunch, and three spicy potato soft tacos. Instead of bringing it home he sat in the empty parking lot and ate there. He wasn’t hungry anymore after the first two tacos but he forced himself to eat the rest anyway. He kept eating and eating and even when it hurt he kept going. He didn’t need his mom to feed him when he could feed himself, he kept thinking. He didn’t need anyone when he could take care of himself. He was eating, wasn’t he? As long as he was eating it was proof he didn’t need anyone at all! He was doing just fine.

When he’d finished the last scraps of food, he nestled himself further into his seat. It was 9:55. His mom would call any minute.

He tried to call Y/N, but she didn’t answer. He tried calling Rachel. No answer. He almost called Logan, but knew he wouldn’t have shit to talk about with her. He was about to call Harry when he changed his mind, not really in the mood for someone who was going to try to fix his problems instead of just listening. He settled on sitting and waiting instead (for what, he wasn’t sure), watching the clock change numbers. He didn’t even put on any music.

He bent forward, picking at a spot of dried paint on his pant leg. He hadn’t even noticed the red splotch there before, the paint somehow reaching his ankle while he painted a portrait of his now deceased lady bug that morning. He kept picking at it but somehow made it worse, chips of red shoved under his nails so deeply it was starting to hurt and the stain now more deeply embedded into the fibers of his sweats. He kept trying and trying and it just got worse and worse and it hurt more and more but he needed the stain out. He needed it out. It had to come out.

When he looked up again, it was 10:37. His mom never called. The red paint was still on his pants.

///

You’d already cum twice before you picked up your phone that morning. After Harry had finished, he’d pulled you up onto him (as he was in the habit of doing), nestling his face against your belly as he pressed kisses into the spaces under your hip bones.

You didn’t even notice all of the missed messages and the chaos online until Harry left to go to the bathroom an hour or two later. You were still foggy-headed and naked when you finally picked up your phone, quickly propping yourself up on an elbow when you realized that while you’d been busy apparently the entire world had turned upside down.

You sprang out of bed, nearly slipping as you hauled yourself down the hallway and into the bathroom where Harry had just finished washing his hands and was getting ready to brush his teeth.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” You were spitting out, scaring the ever loving fuck out of Harry. He jumped almost out of his skin, smearing toothpaste on cheek.

“What is it?” He questioned, free hand pressed to his chest in shock. “Is everything okay?”

You just shook your head, scrolling through the 40 messages Logan had sent so far that morning. (Or, really, that night for Logan).

“Everyone knows about Logan and Rachel.” You finally said, setting your phone down on the counter and tangling your fingers into your hair as you shoved it out of your face. Harry froze mid-brush, his face flashing with panic before settling into a determined, problem-solving stare.

(Harry had been in the habit of doing that lately. Something about him just seemed so much more at ease, more sensible, more calm. He was so much slower to boil. He had a tranquility about him that you hadn’t noticed before.)

“Someone outted them?” He asked, setting his toothbrush down on the counter. He cringed for a second, shaking his head. “Do you know who it was? I can talk to my team about having my lawyers reach out to them, not that Rachel doesn’t have her own lawyers…”

You stared back at him, confused. “Oh, no…” You started, letting out a small chuckle. “They didn’t-”

“I’ll talk to Logan myself if she already said no, but I can’t just let that happen to them.” Harry grimaced again, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Is she okay? Is Rachel okay? That’s so fucked up that someone would do that.”

“Rachel did it.” You stopped him, cutting him off before he completely spiraled. “She posted on Instagram. Apparently she’s moving into the house with Logan. Her, uh, her parents…”

“Right.” Harry said, letting out a huff. He paused for a second, acting like he was about to speak again before stopping. It only took him a second for him to change his mind, turning his body to face you and resting a hand on the counter. “It’s really fucking convenient of these parents to just kick their kids to the curb like this, innit? And for no fucking reason. It’s so fucked up.”

You closed the gap between your bodies, wrapping your arms around Harry’s waist as he put his attention back towards brushing his teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, Logan says Rachel’s okay. She never liked living with her parent’s anyway, so she says they both just feel relieved.”

Harry hummed along, bending forward slightly to spit into the sink. “Are people being nice to them? Online and allat?”

You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, meeting his eyes in the mirror ahead of you. You nodded.

“They’re being very nice.” You told him. “They’re trending on Twitter.”

///

Harry left a few minutes later, making you promise not to shower without him. You agreed, sending him off with a kiss and a promise that you’d join him on his next run. You didn’t mean it, but Harry still seemed satisfied as he headed out.

You’d been so distracted by the whole Logan/Rachel situation that you almost forgot Anders had called you until you were snuggled up back in bed. You figured since Harry would be back soon to take a shower that you would wait to get dressed and have a few extra minutes in the swaddle of covers on Harry’s bed. So, back in your snug little cocoon, you decided to give Anders a call back.

“HEY FUCKER.” Anders yelled into the receiver almost the second you’d pressed the call button. You giggled to yourself, pressing the phone between your ear and the pillow.

“Hey sweet pea. What’s up?” You asked, letting your eyes flutter closed. You could hear some kind of… banging on the other end, though it didn’t particularly surprise you considering who you were talking to. “What are you building a fucking rocking chair or something?”

“Its a shelf, actually.” He corrected, swinging what you assumed to be a hammer a few times before continuing. “I’ve almost got it all finished, I just need to add some final touches.”

“Oh…” You started, deciding whether or not you should even ask. “That sounds… fun?”

“It’s keeping me busy, at least. I got in a fight with my mom again so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He swung the hammer again before letting out a sigh. “She wanted to act like a bitch and not let me eat dinner so I thought, y’know, okay. I’ll go buy some fuckin’ groceries and a shelf and I’ll feed my fucking self. I got a mini fridge and everything.”

You paused, unsure what to say next. As close as you and Anders were, Harry was normally the person that he went to to talk about his family stuff, and you weren’t sure exactly how to navigate it.

“Why wouldn’t she let you eat?”

“Because she hates me.”

“She doesn’t-”

“No, she does.” Anders stopped you, chuckling to himself. “But I’m okay with it. Kinda come to terms with it, you know?”

It got quiet for a second, both of you unsure what to say next.

“She called me a junkie.” Anders added, instantly making your skin itch all over. You tried not to but let out an audible gasp, your hand not quick enough to stop it before it came out. “She said all kinds of stuff, actually. But it’s cool.”

What were you even supposed to say to make this any better? “You aren’t a junkie, Anders.”

“No, I am.” He brushed you off. “It’s all good though, seriously. You don’t have to make me feel better or anything. I just wanted to talk to you is all.”

“Okay.. Well, if you were wanting to talk to Harry he should be home in a little bit…”

“Harry? No, no..” Anders responded. “I just want to talk to you for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, totally.” You rushed out, realizing too late how desperate you must sound. “I mean, for sure. I can talk.”

///

Anders filled you in on the rest of his night, telling you all about how he had spent half the night in a Taco Bell parking lot before coming home and watching a movie with his dad. He said his dad waited up for him just like he’d promised he would, only to pass out less than 15 minutes into the movie. You felt your chest swell slightly at the news but you didn’t make a big deal out of it. You’d always hoped Anders could work it out with his parents, and even if his mom still wasn’t on board, at least he had someone on his side now.

(Anders made a point not to tell you that he’d purposefully fallen asleep on the couch, too, his head ‘just so happening’ to fall on his fathers shoulder next to him. He’d imagined they’d both wake up the next morning and laugh about how they’d dozed off. Andy woke up only an hour or so after he’d drifted, though, neck stiff. He was never, ever able to get a full night's rest, even now. Once he woke he hobbled up the steps and got into bed like nothing had ever happened. He'd already decided he’d never utter a word of it to anyone.)

When Harry got home you were still on the phone, and instead of listening in he decided to clean up the kitchen. (You’d decided to make homemade pizzas the night before, and to put it lightly the kitchen looked like a murder scene). You felt kind of guilty leaving him to deal with the mess, but you felt special being the one to have Anders’ attention for once and you didn’t want to let it go just yet.

“And so I built the little guy a house and everything, right? I made him a little couch and a bed and all that…” Anders was going on, telling you some story about a lady bug he’d found in his bedroom. “He was dead when I woke up, though. I googled it and I don’t think it’s bad luck to find a dead lady bug but I still think it’s, like, a sign or something. Like a bad omen.”

“You sound like you’ve been cooped up too long, buddy.” You laughed, imagining the comical frown on Anders’ face when he found the bug. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“That’s all I have to fucking do these days, man! I’ve been cooped up way too long.” He spit out, exasperated. “You never wanna fucking talk to me anymore so I have to resort to desperate measures.”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean I never talk to you?” You asked with a soft laugh, though you really weren’t joking. “You’re the one who never calls me.”

That wasn’t entirely true and you knew it, but it came out anyway. What you meant was that he didn’t call you as much as Harry.

“I never call you? What the fuck do you mean I never call you?” He pushed back, his awkward laugh mimicking yours a moment ago but his tone a little bit harsh. “I would call you more if you actually wanted to talk to me.”

“What are you even saying right now?” You sighed, sitting up in bed so the comforter hung off of your chest. “I always want to talk to you. You just call Harry instead.”

“You want to talk to me now but you didn’t before I left LA.” He said matter of factly. “You’ve barely wanted to talk to me for months now.”

“That is not true, Anders.” You spoke, offended. You realized once you’d said it that you had no reason to be offended; he was actually right. But that realization only annoyed you further, so you doubled down. “We hung out all the time before you left LA.”

“Well, first of all, we definitely did not. Not alone at least.” He spoke again. He didn’t sound angry, only a little bit miffed. “And second of all, you’re my best friend. You seriously think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been around me? It’s just like… if I did something, I’d rather you tell me what I did so we can talk about it.”

For some reason your blood ran cold. If I did something, he said. You could almost laugh.

“I’m not your best friend, though. Don’t say that.”

He barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Anders. I love you but I am not your best friend.”

He didn’t say anything right away. “Okay then? Fucking ouch.”

“I’m just saying…”

You could hear him breathing unevenly. “So could you, like, tell me why? Or?”

“Why what?”

“Why you don’t want to be my best friend anymore?”

It was you who laughed this time, trying to lighten the mood and make your words a bit softer. You spoke like you were kidding but you meant every word. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s just that you’ve clearly replaced me. Like I just mean don’t call me your best friend when it’s obvious I’m not.”

“Replace you? What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“What is not clicking here, man?” You tried to tease him. “We’re still friends I’m just saying that you and Harry are closer than us now, and that’s okay, but don’t-“

“Harry? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Fuck Harry! What the fuck? You’re-“

“You can’t tell me it isn’t true!”

“It’s not!“

“It’s is!”

Anders let out a long sigh. “Y/N you are my best friend… I couldn’t ever replace you even if I lived a thousand life times. Don’t be crazy.”

You hated it when he called you crazy, even when he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m not your best friend and you know that.” You let out, words coming faster than you could even comprehend them. “I can admit that I might have been distant but you’ve been doing the exact same thing as me. You think I haven’t noticed how much you talk to Harry? You call him every day and tell him all about your life and what’s going on and when we talk you tell me everything’s fine. It’s like… It’s like you replaced me the second you got back from…”

“From where, Y/N? Say it.” He prompted you. “Where’d I come back from? Hm? Could you just fucking say it for once instead of acting like it didn’t happen?”

You frowned hard, biting your lip. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did, I was just letting you finish before I tell you how ridiculous you sound.”

Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head. “Fuck you, Andy.”

He let out a sigh. “No, I didn’t- I just meant that you’re wrong about that. About Harry, I mean.”

“Oh, am I Anders?” You questioned, free hand balling into the comforter. He tried backpedaling but you had already departed the station, the damn already split open. You were upset now and couldn’t hide it even though you wished you could. “You tell him everything. I’ve heard how you guys talk to each other. And, yeah, I needed some space from you after everything but… But I’m just saying it didn’t take you very long to find someone else. You act like I just fucked off and left you out to dry but you did the exact same thing to me.”

He was quiet for a while, thinking. “I wasn’t trying to say that at all, dude. I think maybe we’re misunderstanding each other-“

“Oh, and speaking of rehab,” You cut him off, words already caught in the avalanche. “Who did you have come visit you twice a fucking week? Not me, Andy. If I was your best friend… fuck. I didn’t get to see you once, Andy, and I’m the one who fucking found-“

You stopped suddenly, chest heaving. It was the first time either of you had come even remotely close to talking about that night. You decided to do what Anders tried and back pedal, but it was already too late. You kept going.

“Whatever. I’m just saying that, to me, it seems like you've already got a best friend. I’m sorry for not being around more but-“

“Hey! Hey! I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, okay? I just wanted to know if I did something…”

Here he went with that shit again. If I did something. He could get bent.

“I’m not either.”

“Kind of seems like you are.”

“I’m just saying! Geez!” You yelled, knowing you were just making it worse. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stop yourself. “It’s okay if Harry’s your best friend. It’s fine. I just don’t think we need to lie to each other to make me feel better.”

“He is not my best fucking friend, Y/N. I could give a motherfuck about Harry.” Anders spoke. He wasn’t often serious with you like this, so his tone made the words you wanted to throw at him disappear instantly on your tongue. “Not really, but you know what I mean. And I… I never even invited Harry to come see me at rehab, he just showed up.”

“Yeah, and you never even told me!” You snipped.

“You told me not to talk about Harry! What was I supposed to-“

“No. You kept that from me purposefully, Anders. That’s different and you know it is. I fucking… I fucking drove you there and you didn’t even let me see you.” You caught your breath, panting. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being mean right now it’s just…”

“It’s been on your mind, I get it.” He excused you. He was so kind, even now, letting you off the hook easily as always. “It’s been on my mind, too. I’m glad it’s out in the open at least.”

“I guess.” You grumbled. But he was right, and he was right to bring it up. You sighed, admitting defeat. “You’re right, I just… Its hard for me to talk about. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He waved off. “What else do you need to say?”

You chuckled, wracking your brain. What could you say? There were a million things you’d thought to yourself over the last few months, and the last few weeks in particular, and yet nothing came to mind.

“That’s it, I think.” You answered honestly. “I’m sorry I talked to you like that, but… I don’t know. It hurt my feelings when you said I don’t like talking to you because it isn’t true. I still care about you and I still love you as much as I always did…”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like that, Y/N?” He asked, voice wavering. “I’m sorry for spending so much time with Harry, but I couldn’t be alone, man. I… I felt like you fucking disappeared. I’m not blaming you I’m just saying I wasn’t trying to replace you, ever. I- I genuinely didn’t know what else to do. I needed someone.”

“So did I!”

“I know you did! I know! And I would’ve been there if you’d fucking let me.”

“Maybe I would’ve let you if you weren’t with your fucking boy all the time!”

He let out a small gasping sound. “That’s totally fucking unfair. I only spent so much time with him because you weren’t around.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But it’s not just that you were hanging out with him, anyway. It’s the way you talk to him… You know when I got here he knew things about your life that I didn’t even know? It was embarrassing, dude. You call him to talk about your feelings and you tell him what’s bothering you and when I call you just say it’s fine.” You let out. “You don’t talk to me like that, and you never have. You didn’t before you went to rehab and you don’t now… And you know what, now that I think of it, it kind of did bother me how much time you spent with Harry. You could’ve befriended anyone in the world, Anders, and you chose him? I mean, part the reason we stopped seeing each other as much is because you were constantly with my ex boyfriend. It wasn’t the main reason, but it still fucking sucked for me.”

“I was trying to get you guys back together the entire time!” He defended weakly. “I wasn’t picking a side, man, I was trying to fucking help. I don’t fucking know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I spent so much time with him and I can totally understand why that would upset you. I should’ve thought about that and I’m sorry.” He paused, sheets ruffling as he must have been laying down. “But we both know that’s not the reason you didn’t want to hang out with me. And, you know, I understand that and I’m not trying to act fucking stupid by pretending I don’t get it, but… I mean, I want to know how I can fix it. Like how long is that going to last before you want to be around me again? I know I fucked up and if there’s nothing I can do I get it but I would like to at least try before I let this fucking ruin our friendship.”

You weren’t sure what to say. He spoke again while you tried to figure it out.

“Sorry I didn’t fucking open with that.” He giggled, letting out an exhausted huff. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that I just didn’t know how else to bring it up. I should’ve just asked you how you were feeling.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine, I just don’t…” The words you searched for still eluded you. “Why didn’t you let me visit you, Anders? When I found that out, I… That hurt super fucking bad, man. I mean, I asked you every single day… And, I mean, the whole Harry thing aside, I feel like I should’ve been the one to get to be there. I think I earned that.”

“Earned it?” He whispered incredulously. “Y/N, I didn’t want you there because I was a fucking mess. I- I- I was a fucking disaster! I had already done enough to you at that point it felt unfair to drag you into that. And I was embarrassed, man. I didn’t want anyone to see me, and the only reason I was okay with Harry being there was because I didn’t know him and I honestly didn’t give a shit what he thought. I care what you think, a lot. I always have. I couldn’t let you see me like that.”

It made sense, but it didn’t make you feel much better. You didn’t even realize how badly you’d been hurt by the news of Harry going to visit him until you’d spoken it out loud, and it was hitting you like a truck.

“I still wanted to be there.” You replied, words like glass ready to shatter. “I wanted to be there for you the entire time, after rehab, but…”

“But you were mad at me. I know.”

“Mad at you?” You snapped, shaking your head for no audience. “I wasn’t… No, Andy. I couldn’t be around you because…” You had to stop, inhaling a shaky breath. You didn’t want to think about it. “Because every time I was around you, all I could think of… I still saw it every time I looked at you. I could see how purple your lips were, and you were so pale…”

You couldn’t continue, throat closed tight. You shook your head again but didn’t know why. Maybe to shake the sight out of your brain.

“I’m so sorry I did that to you, Y/N. I am so, so fucking sorry.” He whispered again. You could tell he was crying. “I spend every second of every day wishing I didn’t do that. And, you know, sometimes I think that… I don’t know, if I’d only done it an hour earlier, or locked my door, you never would’ve-“

“Anders! Stop it!” You broke, cutting him off before he could rip your heart out entirely. You were crying now, too. “You can’t say stuff like that. It’s a good thing I was there. I was supposed to be there.”

“You were never supposed to be there.” He argued. “That wasn’t supposed to happen like that. And if- If I thought for a second that you’d come there and see that then I wouldn’t have… Or I would’ve done it differently, or something. And then you wouldn’t have had to see anything and you wouldn’t have had to drive me to rehab and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. And you wouldn’t have even known me that well back then to even really miss me for that long.”

“It would have ruined my life, Anders.” You clarified. He couldn’t have been more wrong, about any of it. “I never would’ve fucking forgiven myself for that shit. I still can’t forgive myself now! You can’t- You don’t get to say you wish you’d done it better, or that I’d be better off or whatever dumb shit you’re gonna say. I was there for a reason and I am grateful every day that you weren’t alone.”

“I know. I know.” Anders repeated over and over while you finished, voice hushed and tired. “I know, I didn’t mean all of that… I just feel so guilty about everything, and the only way I can think to fix it is if I would’ve-“

“You don’t need to feel guilty.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You do not.”

“You just fucking said you can’t forgive yourself for what happened! You just said that! I fucking ruined your life as it is! I didn’t need to die to do that, it’s already fucking done!” He went off suddenly, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I know what I did to you. And I’m sorry. But that is exactly fucking why I call Harry to bitch about my life, or talk about my fucking mom, or whatever. I can’t talk to you about that shit.”

“Why not, Anders? Why not?” You croaked. “That’s what friends do. I want you to know how you're doing, I want to help…”

“I can’t fucking talk to you about it! I can’t! I have burdened you since I fucking met you, I’ve scarred you for fucking life. I’m not calling you to complain about how shit my life is.” He huffed for a second, bordering more on angry now than he did upset. “As far as I’m concerned, for the rest of my fucking life I’m going to be perfectly fine every time you ask me how I’m doing. I have to be okay for you. I don’t get to complain to you, ever again.”

“I don’t want you to always be okay. I want you to be honest with me.”

“Because you’ve been honest with me, right? Like you ever tell me what’s going on with you. You hardly even talked about the breakup with Harry with me. You don’t tell me shit.” He spilled out. “Every time I ask, you lie to me just like I lie to you. You’re telling me you’ve been perfectly fine this whole time? There hasn’t been one thing that’s bothered you? Not one bad day?”

You didn’t realize just how clueless Anders was on what you’d been through while he was off dealing with his own stuff. You’d kept just as much from him as he had from you, from the breakup to the nightmares to the way you were constantly haunted by that pale, purple version of your best friend.

“You’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, either.” You admitted. You wiped your face, frustrated tears threatening to make their way down your neck. “Can we just agree not to lie to each other anymore? I’ll tell you what’s going on with me but only if you agree to do the same. I want to be there for you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was quiet, both of you catching your breath and slowing your brains. Everything was coming at you so fast it was like you couldn’t keep up. You thought about everything, about how angry you had been and how hurt and how confused… You thought about everything that had pinched at the back of your brain for months now that you always steadfastly ignored.

“You should’ve told me what was going on, before all of this.” You said without meaning to. “It never should’ve gotten so bad if you just told me.”

“It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is, though. I… I fucking asked you if you were on drugs, and you lied to me. I asked you all the time if you were okay. I tried calling you every single day after you broke your nose.” It was all bubbling over now, nothing stopping it. You were angry again, about everything. All at once. “I know I should’ve tried harder and I will always carry that with me, but you should’ve talked to me, man. You should’ve told me.”

“What was I supposed to do, huh? What do you want from me?” He snapped, a chord obviously struck. “You wanted me to tell the girl I hardly knew that I was fucking su*cidal? That would’ve gone over super well, I’m sure.”

“That’s not what I mean-“

“I can tell you how that conversation would’ve gone, actually. Hey girl I just met, do you want to hear about how fucked up I am?” He stopped to laugh. “You wanted me to tell you that I was on drugs, again? Should I have told you how many fucking times I’d already done the exact same thing since I was, like, 17? That would’ve been really comforting to you, I’m sure. It wouldn’t have totally made you lose faith in me or anything, like everybody else.” He stopped for a second to laugh, again, the idea of this imaginary conversation obviously tickling him. “Or, better yet, I could’ve told you at the hospital that that wasn’t even the first time I’d tried to fucking k*ll myself! Or the second! Or the fucking third! I’m sure that would’ve helped soooo much had you known that.”

Instead of saying anything you just cried quietly into your bent elbow, head resting on your knees. When you didn’t say anything Anders sighed sadly, speaking again.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I know that’s not what you meant, and I’m sorry. But you have to see where I’m coming from, right? If I…” He choked on his words for a second, clearing his throat. “Y/N, if I knew how to ask for help you would’ve been the first one I went to. If I knew how to ask I would have. You have to believe me.”

You did believe him. It was unfair of you to blame him for not coming to you, but you still couldn’t help how angry you were at him. It was fucked up but you just felt so… fucked over by him. It was so wrong and you knew it but you couldn't help being mad that he didn’t think more about your feelings. You knew it wasn’t about you and it never was, and yet it still hurt you. Maybe you were just selfish, you weren’t sure.

“You didn’t even leave me a note, Andy.” Was what you decided on saying. You’d never brought that fact up to anyone, deciding it was too morbid for your mom or Logan or even Harry. But it had always been there, in the back of your mind, gnawing away at the space you used to use for your fond memories of Anders. It’s like with every second you didn’t say anything about it it just continued eating at the image of him you had in your head. Each day that passed just eroded at the soil more and more. “I called and I texted and I showed up to your house… I was the only one who didn’t think I was being irrational. I was worried fucking sick about you for weeks and weeks after the Halloween party, and you couldn’t even write me a fucking su*cide note?”

Saying it out loud like that made your stomach lurch. You were nearly hysterical but you kept talking anyway.

“I deserved a fucking note, Anders. If you were going to leave me all on my own the least you could’ve done was write me a fucking note. And I know there wasn’t one hidden because I cleaned every square inch of that apartment after I dropped you off at rehab.” You choked back a sob, so upset the phone in your hand shook fiercely against your ear. “There was nothing there, Anders. Nothing. I know I sound selfish and I’m being a brat, but honestly Anders when you… when you took those pills I felt so abandoned by you. How do you think I felt? I know it’s not about me and I’m fucked for feeling that way but I felt like you never even cared about me at all when you did that shit. And I tried ignoring that part, I chalked it up to being bigger than me, but… but I didn’t even get a note? I wasn’t even important enough to you for a note?”

He didn’t say anything, for a long, long time. You both just cried and cried and cried and you wished more than anything you could’ve had this conversation face to face. You wanted to hold him like you did at the hospital. You wanted to play with his hair. You wanted to put a hand on him, just to prove he really was okay.

“There was a note. On my phone.” He whispered after that long, long time had passed. His voice was so quiet you could hardly hear it over your own ragged breath. “There was one for you, and for Rachel. And there was one for my mom. I thought that you guys would, like, go through my phone or whatever, after…”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You hated the way your shoulders relaxed, like something had been proven to you by that fact. You hated how relieved you felt. It made you sick.

“You are important to me and you always have been. And I don’t think you’re fucked for feeling that way. I knew you must feel that way and I thought… I thought if I just went back to normal I could make up for it. I thought I’d make it go away.” His breath rattled his chest for a second. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this sooner. If I could go back, even to February, I’d do it all differently. I swear on my life I would.”

“I’m so sorry…” Was what you said, unsure what else could fill in the silence. “I shouldn’t have even brought the note thing up, it’s just been.. on my mind, I guess.”

“No, I get it.” He spoke sweetly, voice still soft by the tears mostly gone. “I actually thought about telling you I wrote it a few times, but I didn’t know if you’d even realized and I thought it’d be weird to just randomly tell you…”

He started laughing at that, a real, genuine laugh. You started laughing too, unable to ignore how silly the whole thing was. You wished softly that you’d talked about all of this sooner, but you did your best not to think too much about it.

“It would’ve been weird, yeah.” You snickered, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “Imagine we just went out for lunch and you drop that on me over a salad. Like a casual, hey by the way…”

Anders laughed harder, the sound healing some part of you that had snapped during the conversation. “Right like we go out to fucking Bella Vino and I just slide my notes app across the table to you.” He had to stop, cackling with laughter. “Like, I wrote this for you, just so you know.”

“Not the notes app.” You shrieked, wiping at your eyes.

“You know what they say, right? The only thing better than a notes app apology…”

You both giggled a while longer, eventually sighing exhausted and overwhelmed but somehow peaceful.

“You know you’re important to me, right?” Anders asked once your stomach was sore. “I mean that. You saved my life, Y/N, and I could never, ever…. I could never replace you, or stop caring, or any of that. You saved my fucking life. And I never even said thank you! I never… I’m fucked for that, I know I am. I just didn’t know how I could possibly-“

“You don’t have to thank me.” You assured him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you my life, man. I owe you everything.” He choked up again, blowing out a deep breath. “Because, you know, I bitch a lot to Harry, and this has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but.. but I’m really happy I’m alive. I’m so happy I’m alive.“ He stopped again, giggling. He sounded like a little kid. “I got to watch a movie with my dad because I’m alive. I owe you for that, big time.”

///

The rest of the conversation went easily after that, or at least easier. You talked more about everything, both of you letting out everything you’d been meaning to. For as scared as you were of this inevitable conversation, it really wasn’t as hard as you expected once the first bit was over.

The topics floated around elsewhere, too. Anders caught you up on how life with his parents had been and even told you a bit more about his relationship with his mom in particular. He told you stories from his childhood about being locked out of the house for a day and a half because his mom was mad at him or not being able to go on a feild trip in eighth grade because “she thought he liked his friends at school more than her”. He told you about Jena, too, more than he ever had before. He told you how she used to force him to have sex or literally push his head down to snort pills off the coffee table even when he said no. He told you how he still had panic attacks every single time he took a shower. He couldn’t wear wet clothes, either, like if it was raining or his sleeve got damp in the sink. “It makes me feel like I’m dying.” He told you. “One time I got caught in the rain and I was so upset I threw up in a parking lot.”

Harry walked in as Anders finished a story about his sixth grade band recital, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel set on your lap. You asked Anders if he wanted to say hello, but he politely declined.

“I just want to talk to you for a while.” He’d said. “I’ll call Harry later today.”

And so you told him everything, too. You told him about what happened with Christian and the nightmares (which he did not take well, by the way). You told him that you also hated taking showers at home because it reminded you of what happened. You both shared song recommendations that you used on your shower playlists that made it a little bit easier.

///

By the time you made your way downstairs, Harry had already cleaned up from breakfast, folded your clothes in the dryer, and was neck deep in your old guest bedroom.

He turned to look over his shoulder as you walked in behind him, smiling broadly. He had your suitcases dumped out onto the floor, though most of their contents was already scattered around the room.

“There you are!” He beamed, setting a tube of mascara in a pile he’d set aside for makeup. “I was starting to miss you.”

“I got distracted talking to Andy.” You brushed off, sitting down next to him where you could find the smallest amount of clear floor. “We got into a fight.”

Harry furrowed his brow, setting a pair of socks into the sock pile. “A fight? What about?”

“About you.” You teased. Harry snapped his head to look at you, mouth falling open.

“Did I do something?” He asked, abandoning the t-shirt in his hands. You only smiled, shaking your head.

“No, no.. I’m just kidding.” You laughed, “I kind of told him off for calling you all the time instead of me.”

He didn’t laugh with you. “Baby, you should’ve told me it bothered you.” He began, putting a hand on your cheek. “I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay!” You insisted. “I was feeling kind of bitter but we talked about it and it’s okay. I was just jealous, I guess.”

“You were jealous?”

You paused. “Yeah, kind of.” You admitted, taking Harry’s hand in yours and pulling it off your cheek and into your lap. “I felt like you guys were closer than me and him, and… I don’t know. He called and told me I was his best friend and I kind of lost it on him.”

“But you are his best friend?” Harry responded, confused and looking guilty. “I could’ve told you that. He tells me every day he doesn’t like me as much as you.”

You smiled, maybe a little bit too satisfied. “I am his best friend.” You agreed.

Harry smiled, confused. “Okay?”

“We’re good now, though. Like, actually.” You said, picking up a pair of leggings out of the mess and throwing it in the clothes pile. “We finally talked about everything.”

Harry followed your lead and grabbed your lap top off of the floor and set it on the bed. “You did?” He beamed, nudging your shoulder with his own. “That’s awesome, sunflower. I’m really happy you guys did that.”

“Me too. He said he’s call you later today.”

Harry picked up a bottle of lotion out of the pile, revealing how it had leaked out onto everything below it. He closed his eyes, sighing.

“You know you don’t have to live like this, right?” He nagged. “You’re lucky that didn’t get all over your laptop. Which shouldn’t have been on the floor anyway.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, well if you’re going to be living with me you need to start living like a real person.” He rasped, rubbing his brow. He stopped suddenly, realizing what he’d said. “Not that you live here now, or anything. I just mean since you’re gonna stay here for a while. You don’t have to live out of suitcases.”

You shrugged, brushing off the exchange about the living situation. “I like living out of suitcases. I’m used to it.”

“Well you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“It’s not a big deal…”

It was quiet for a second, you still helping Harry clean your disaster of a bedroom despite you saying it wasn’t an issue. Harry stopped after a minute or two.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to move your stuff into our room?” He questioned, looking you in the eyes. You frowned, stunned.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.” You said honestly. Harry knew that, the two of your spending nearly every second of every day together. “You know how I am about cleaning.”

Harry didn’t laugh at your joke, just nodding along. “Feels like you have one foot out the door.” He mumbled, chucking a pair of shoes into the shoe pile with a bit of extra frustrated force.

You looked at him, but he just kept organizing. You thought about what he’d said, realizing how it must look from his perspective. Your suitcases were literally still packed.

You thought about his conversation with Anders the other night, how Harry had told him how afraid he was that you would change your mind or leave. You picked up a pair of jeans.

“Do you think you have room in your dresser for my stuff to go in there?” You asked, folding the pants carefully. “We could probably move everything to our room before lunch, if you think we can make space.”

Harry whipped his head around, ignoring your question. “Really?”

You furrowed your brows. “Yes?”

“You want to put it all in our room?”

“Yeah, I do.” You answered honestly. It would be nice to not have to go down the hall every time you needed socks, anyway. “Do you think it will all fit?”

Harry leaped up, a ridiculous kind of look on his face as he cheesed down at you.

“Yes!” He squeaked. “Yeah, I can make room! I can go move some stuff right now!”

“Okay. Awesome.” You commented, just looking up at him. You couldn’t help smiling just as goofily as he was. “Do you want help?”

He looked back and forth for a second, running his fingers through his hair. “No, no, I’m good. I’ll just move some shit and you stay here and get your stuff ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t leave, though, just staring at you. His legs were wiggling with nervous excitement.

“This is great.” He said, letting out a giggle. He covered his mouth, trying to force the smile off of his face and failing. “This makes me really happy, Y/N. Thank you.”

You crinkled your nose at him. “You don’t need to thank me, you pest.”

He continued staring at you for a second, his smile now a permanent fixture on his face. He knelt beside you, pulling your face to his with a hand on either cheek.

“I love you so much.” He gushed into the kiss, hands clammy. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you more.” You promised, pulling away from the kiss with a smile of your own. “Now go get ready for all my junk, okay?”

He stood again, his entire body tense and excited and giddy. “Okay! Yeah, okay.. I’m gonna go do that.” He turned to leave, looking back at you every step or two to give you another grin. “I’ll be in our room if you need me.”

“Okay.”

And then he left the room, his giggling following him down the hall. “Let’s fucking go!” He said to himself, his footsteps in the pattern of a little happy skip. “Let’s fucking go!”.

///

You weren’t done by lunch time, the entire ordeal becoming much more of a thing than you’d expected. You sorted through all of Harry’s shit, him deciding what items he wanted to move out of the closet to make room for your own. He threw sweaters you’d seen him wear in paparazzi photos onto the bed, discarded as if you hadn’t memorized the patterns staring at those pictures of him while you were broken up. “I never fucking wear this.” He said, throwing another jacket onto the bed. “Or this. Or this.”

You watched him take nearly all of his clothes across the hall to another empty bedroom, leaving them on the bed in there to be put away later. He took out things you’d seen him wear within the week, insisting he hadn’t worn them in years and didn’t mind them being in the other room. You didn’t argue with him on any of it, his mood so bubbly and excited and just about over the moon. You hadn’t seen him this excited, even the night you first got back together. He talked the entire time, going on and on about how happy he was and all of his plans for your new room you’d be sharing.

“We can paint the walls yellow, too, since that’s your favorite.” He was saying, taking the last load of clothes out of his dresser. “I’ve been meaning to paint the walls in here anyway.”

“You definitely don’t have to do that.” You’d laughed, thinking he was kidding. He just looked at you like you were crazy.

“You don’t like yellow anymore?”

“I do, I just don’t want you to have to-”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off. “I want it to feel like your room, too.”

You didn’t say anything for a second, just looking at him. He looked so in love. You smiled, nodding. “We can paint it together, then.”

He grinned back at you, shoulders relaxing. “Yes! Wouldn’t that be fun?” He gushed, back to his rambling now. “We could buy a new duvet, too. We could hang up some of the paintings Andy’s done for you, too! And all your awards can go over here if we add a shelf.”

You didn’t say anything about the fact that Harry most certainly wouldn’t hang any of his own awards in his bedroom and that you didn’t want to do that, either, just letting him continue. You just listened to him talk, believing everything he said and every promise he made. You wanted to kiss him, so you did, over and over and over. Before you knew it, you had moved everything onto his room and the two of you were picking out a new silk duvet cover online. It had tiny flowers on it.

///

You didn’t get around to lunch until after 3, the two of you close to starvation by the time you’d finished up everything upstairs. You sat on some stools at the kitchen island, scarfing down the Thai food you’d had ordered in. You were almost done with your entire plate when Bethany called you.

“Hey Beth!” You chirped, Harry’s good mood infecting you and making everything seem a little more sparkly. “What’s up?”

She sighed. Bad sign.

“Have you been on the internet at all today?” She asked, not bothering with niceties.

You paused, looking over at Harry who was just as confused as you. You set your phone down on the counter, turning it on speaker.

“I haven’t really been on since early this morning.” You explained. “Why, what’s up?”

“Well, its officially happened. Cats out of the bag.”

You relaxed, realizing what she meant. “Oh, yeah. I saw everything with Logan and Rachel already.” You explained. “Logan texted me this morning to talk about it.”

Bethany let out a short laugh. “Nope, not that Peach. Try again.”

Your breathing stopped for a second, your head whipping to look at Harry the same moment his turned to face you. You had matching expressions on your faces, eyes wide and eyebrows bunched together. Harry leaned towards the phone, speaking.

“What do you mean, Bethany?” He asked, his plate pushed away with the back of his hand.

“Harry, great. I’m glad you’re here.” Bethany went on. She had that tone to her voice right now that she always had when she was really, really pissed. Not at you, but at everything else. It was the way she talked after meetings with Tom, or when someone posted something about you online that was particularly searing. “You should be here for this so you can reiterate all of this to Jeff.”

Oh, fuck. You looked back at him, mouth opening and closing over and over again but no words actually coming out. Harry looked just as dumb and confused as you felt. Finally he spoke.

“What happened?”

His expression changed into the kind he always got when he talked about work. (You selfishly hated that version of him, the one who was all serious and analytical. It didn’t feel like him.)

“Well, Harry, your girlfriend wore your pants on Jimmy Fucking Fallon.” She snipped, sighing. You knew she wasn’t mad at you two, but you still felt like a child being chastised. “And you have a scuff on your wall.”

“What the fuck are you taking about?” You asked, put opened on your stomach.

“Well,” (You could envision her pulling glasses off the top of her head, sliding them down her nose.) “Aubrey on Twitter says, ‘Y/N was literally wearing Harry’s pants on Fallon tonight I’m gonna kms.’ And attached is a picture of you, my dear, wearing some black sweats and another picture of Harry last week on BBC wearing the same ones.”

You looked at each other, mouths agape.

“How do they know we don’t have the same pants?” You asked. You were trying not to panic yet, remembering how Beth had always been the one to brush off incidents like this. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, except there’s a stain on the back.” She explained. “A big white splotch on the butt. Paint, or something.”

Harry groaned, leaning his head onto the counter and banging his fist once in defeat. He stayed like that for a second before sitting back up, his head in his hands.

“Andy and I got into a paint fight.” He started, voice small.

“A paint fight?” You asked incredulously. “What even is that?”

“Well, babe, it’s a lot like a fight but with paint involved.” He snipped back at you. “I should’ve remembered. I was so pissed he ruined those pants…”

You just shook your head, mimicking Harry and throwing your head into your hands.

“What about the scuff on the wall?” You asked, remembering that other detail. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well it’s in the same spot in every single interview the two of you have done the last month.”

Of fucking course it was. You grumbled, laying your head down completely. You’d spent so much time picking an inconspicuous place to set up your camera, and this was still happening.

“So everyone has put it together, then?” Harry asked.

“Yup.” Bethany answered. “And there’s no denying it. I mean, we can say you aren’t a couple… We can say whatever you want, but there’s no denying that you’re living together. Everyone knows it. And, now that they have that, they’re putting everything else together, too.”

Harry shook his head, eyes closing. “But is it like, a couple people saying this? Or is it, like, everyone?”

“Well you're trending on Twitter. Right under Rachel.”

It was quiet for a second, the three of you all waiting for someone else to pipe up. It gave you enough time, in the three or so seconds it was silent, to make up your mind.

Harry needed to know you meant it. He needed to know you weren’t going anywhere. You’d already moved your clothes out of their suitcases and you promised to meet his mom, and there was only one more thing to do. There was only one more thing you could do to prove you meant it.

“I’m happy this is happening.” You said out loud, unsure if Harry would feel the same considering but taking a chance. You watched his face out of the corner of your eye. “I… I don’t want it to be a secret anymore. I want everyone to know.”

Harry snapped around to look at you, expression unreadable.

“As long as Harry is okay with that.” You added, adding some cushioning in case this went sour. “I’m okay with it, though. I’m excited, actually.”

It was true. You’d spent so much time forced to keep it a secret that you’d forgotten that wasn’t ever what you wanted at all. Bethany still sounded just as stressed when she spoke.

“You guys can talk about it. And Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to talk to Jeff. Once you guys talk let me know and we’ll go from there.”

He agreed, both of you saying your goodbyes to Beth before hanging up. You pressed the big red button, waiting a beat before looking up at Harry.

“So…” You started, not able to get much further before Harry cut you off.

“Did you mean that?” He asked, eyes cautious. “About wanting everyone to know? You meant that?”

You nodded weakly. “We’re only supposed to say the stuff we mean, right?”

He looked at you a beat before realization set in and his face broke out into a smile, a giggle ripping through the tension around you.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He sprang foreword, kissing you firmly in the mouth. He held your face the way he always did lately, a hand on either cheek. He mumbled into your mouth, too, the way he’d been keen to do lately.

“I fucking love you. I love you.” He rushed out, biting your lip. “I’m so happy. I’m so fucking happy.”

You kissed him back, telling him you were too. You were too. You were too.

“We can go on a date now.” He went on. “I can take you to get that spaghetti I was telling you about, after everything opens again. You’ll love it, it’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had I swear to God. We won’t have to lie to anyone anymore.”

You, out of nowhere, felt your eyes grow hot with tears. You didn’t say anything else, just continuing to kiss him. You hoped if you kissed him enough times he would just know everything you wanted to say this whole time. Your dirty dishes still sat on the counter, forgotten.

///

A few days later, Anders woke up on a Sunday in the best mood he’d been in for days.

Since his conversation with Y/N he’d felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, but rehashing everything that way adding an entirely different kind of pressure. But today was Sunday, and Sunday’s were good.

On Sunday’s, his parents left the house to go to church. His parents, even in the pandemic, still went and sat with everyone else who was too stupid to stay out of large crowds, and even though that should’ve annoyed him Anders loved it. He didn’t care if his parents brought the virus home. The possibility of dying was worth the 180 minutes he got to spend without them in the house. (His mom no longer asked him to go with them. She actually still hadn’t said a single word to him since he’d gone to Matt’s house).

Anders threw open his door once he heard the car roll out of the driveway, feeling as if he had the entire world at his fingertips. He was wearing a pair of sweats, the same ones he’d had on for 6 days, not bothering to put on a shirt before bouncing down to the kitchen.

His plans for breakfast were foiled as soon as he turned the corner.

“Hey son!” His dad smiled brightly, standing over the stove. He was just pulling out a pan, a carton of eggs out on the counter. “I thought I was gonna have to wake you up.”

“Why are you here?”

He knew he should’ve said something else, but it’s all he could think. In the last 24 years he’d never once seen his dad skip church. Ever.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you.” He said simply. “Are you hungry at all?”

Anders just shook his head. “But it’s Sunday.”

“We can’t have breakfast on a Sunday?”

Anders laughed, deciding to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. He realized that he wasn’t actually upset his dad was here.

“I figured you’d be at church is all.” He explained. “Im starving though.”

His dad just smiled. “Fantastic. Do you want bacon, too?”

Anders, suddenly, was bombarded by memories of Christmas morning when his dad would always make bacon after the gifts were opened. He stopped doing that when Anders was in middle school, but he could still smell it when he really tried. Back before everything was bad all the time.

“Fuck yeah.” Anders said, knowing his dad would chastise him for that but not able to resist pissing his parents off even when he didn’t want to. It was a defect of his he couldn’t help.

His dad turned to look at him, mouth pinched to hide a grin. “Fuck yeah.” His dad agreed, the word sounding bizarre coming out in his voice. Anders threw his head back in a howl of laughter, tears accumulating.

“Did you just say fuck? My father, the Saint?”

His dad was giggling now, the sound almost identical to Anders' own laugh. He’d never noticed that before. “Fuck yeah I did.” He said, only causing them both to giggle harder.

“Fuck yeah, dad! Let it out!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“You can do better than that”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck yeah!!!”

Anders was in fucking stitches, his sides literally pinching his ribs as he died laughing.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked. His dad nodded enthusiastically.

“It feels good.” He agreed, pulling a pack of bacon out of the fridge. “Feels fucking good.”

“I'm surprised you chose a Sunday to say your first curse with me, dad.” Anders joked. “I'm surprised you’re here at all.”

“Well I am, aren’t I?”

“Just figured you’d be, like, praising the son of god right now. Or whatever.”

His dad was quiet for a second, using the same scissor he always used when Anders was baby Anderson to open the bacon.

“I have my own son to worry about.” He said quietly, looking over his shoulder. He smiled shyly. “You ever make bacon before?”

Of course he had. Everyone had. But for some reason Anders shook his head.

“Can you show me?”

His dad smiled even bigger now. “Yeah! Of course I can! Grab the tongs out of the drawer over there and I’ll get us started.”

“Okay.”

Anders did what he said and grabbed the tongs. He stood next to his dad, feeling awkward but also strangely good. He was almost as tall as his dad. The last time he’d watched his dad cook he had to stand on a chair. Part of him wanted to stand on a chair anyway, just for old times sake. Or maybe he just wanted to feel like baby Anderson again. Baby Anderson never had a care in the world. Baby Anderson’s parents were always crazy about him.

“Moms gonna be pissed at you, huh?” Anders asked, laughing lightly but meaning it. His dad shrugged, turning on one of the burners.

“She can be mad at both of us, then.” He as all he said. “So now we have to wait for the pan to get hot…”

///

“How much shit do you own?” Logan asked, a hand over her eyes to block out the sun above her. Rachel was grabbing another box out of her Range Rover, hobbling up the steps to the door.

“You could help me.” Rachel squeaked, barely managing to make it inside before the box slipped from her fingers. Logan shut the door behind them both, coming up to take Rachel by the waist.

“Why don’t you just stop for a while?” She whispered, pressing a kiss to her girlfriends hair. “Let’s relax. I miss you.”

Rachel only blushed, as always, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I have a lot to unpack.”

“You can unpack tomorrow.”

Rachel looked around the living room, full of boxes and suitcases and all sorts of junk. It was a fucking disaster in here. Rachel’s house, or her parents house, technically, was never dirty. Ever.

Rachel thought maybe she liked it being dirty. She threw the bag off of her shoulder she’d grabbed from the car, letting it land right in middle of the floor. Her heart beat funny at the thought that she’d just leave it there, right in middle of the walkway.

“Tomorrow.” She agreed, leaning into Logan. Logan chirped triumphantly, immediately pulling Rachel to the couch. They both laughed together, happy.

The house was a nightmare, Rachel’s parents wouldn’t talk to her, and she didn’t know what the fuck she was going to do when the pandemic ended and she had to go back to work. She didn’t feel like taking pictures anymore, or doing her hair every time she left the house. She didn’t want to hang out with Margot or Kira, ever again. She had a millions things running through her head, all of them spiraling and twisting and bumping into each other until she couldn’t make sense of a single second of it. For some reason she didn’t mind though.

“You know I was never allowed to have short hair.” She said without knowing why. Logan hummed. “I’ve always wanted to cut it.”

Logan sprang off the couch. “Babe! I used to go to beauty school! I’m, like, so good at cutting hair!”

“You did?”

Logan frowned, her nose scrunching up in the way that always made Rachel feel especially soft. “Well, I went for like a week before I quit. But I am really good at cutting hair! I swear!”

This wasn’t entirely true. Logan had enrolled in beauty school, but never actually went. And she was only decent at cutting hair, at best.

But Rachel couldn’t give a fuck if she was any good at it. “Okay.” She agreed, standing. “Do you think it’ll look good?”

Logan nodded frantically. “Of course! You know what, I’ll cut mine first so you can make sure you like it. Then you can decide.”

Rachel was objecting the best she could but Logan was already in the kitchen, scissors in hand.

(The scissors, funnily enough, we’re the exact same pair Andy’s dad always used for the bacon on Christmas morning.)

Before Rachel could even catch up Logan grabbed a fist full of hair, lobbing it all of just under her chin. Her eyes widened as the blonde strands scattered on the floor. Then, she started laughing. And so did Rachel.

They both laughed until they were crying, making their way to the bathroom with Logan’s hair half to her waist and half to her chin. It only took an hour or so for both of them to be made over, making eye contact through the mirror. Both with matching hair cuts, both equally as drastic. They looked fine, but not great.

“I love it.” Rachel beamed, eyes teary again for a whole new reason. “I love it.”

She shook her head around, watching the bob swing around her face. She looked like a completely different person, someone she’d never met before. She loved it.

“It looks amazing!!” Logan screeched, excitedly bouncing around. “This is amazing!!!”

///

“I didn’t know you had so many tattoos.” Anders’ dad said through a mouthful.

Anders shrugged. “I did that on purpose.” He said honestly, referring to his mostly blank arms and covered chest. (Not covered, but he had a few.)

“They’re cool.” His dad said, making Anders furrow his brow in surprise. “I always wanted to get a tattoo.”

He couldn’t help snorting. This was the best day he’d had in as long as he could remember. Maybe his whole life. “I can’t imagine you with a tattoo.”

“I’ve still got time.” His dad grinned, taking another bite. “Maybe I’ll get one.”

“I’ll take you to get one.” Anders offered, saying it like a joke but not at all kidding. “You could get a face tat, dad. You’d look so fucking sick.”

His dad just shook his head. “What’s that one?” He questioned, pointing to the mysterious blob on his torso. It was on his ribs, just under his heart.

“It was supposed to be a frog.” Anders laughed. “My friend Y/N did it.”

“With a tattoo gun?”

“With a needle.”

His dad didn’t tell him off like he was expecting. “What’s she like?”

His parents never asked about his friends. They’d always hated his friends growing up.

“She’s fuckin sick.” Anders answered, realizing they’d both finished their plates but weren’t getting up. “She’s my best friend.”

“Maybe I can go see her show one day.” His dad said casually. “Or am I too old for that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You could totally go!” Anders gushed. He imagined it, his dad bobbing awkwardly along like dads do. “You could come see Harry, too.”

“Could I come see you?” His dad asked, making Anders’ heart skip a beat. He’d never invited his parents to a show, figuring they wouldn’t want to go. His mom definitely wouldn’t.

“Of course you could.” Anders said. He felt his face get hot. “It would actually mean a lot to me, dad. If you came, I mean.”

His dad smiled to himself, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my kids a rockstar. That’s pretty cool, huh?” His dad chuckled for a second. “Sorry. That’s pretty fucking cool, isn’t it?”

The praise made him embarrassed. “It’s alright.”

“I always wanted to be a rockstar.” His dad mused. He almost didn’t even look like his dad right now. He looked younger somehow. More like a person. “Like Jimi Hendrix, you know? I used to be pretty good at the guitar. Not that good, but I think you’d be impressed if you heard it. I was never as good as you, though.”

For some reason Anders wanted to cry. For every reason and no reason. His dad wanted to be a rockstar. His dad used to be young. He used to want things. He used to have dreams. He felt overwhelmed by the realization that he’d lived an entire life before Anders was born, and part of himself hated the other for ruining his dad's plans. Maybe that was why neither of them liked him for so long.

“I love you, Dad.” Anders said, immediately feeling the need to cry multiply at the embarrassment of saying that out loud. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

His dad smiled, speechless for a second. “I love you so much, son.” He spoke, his face growing warm in a similar pattern to Anders’. “I always did, even before I met you.”

Anders started crying. His dad stood up, pulling Anders to stand with him. He wrapped him up in his arms and baby Anderson was crying, too.

“I’m gonna fix this. The best I can.” His dad spoke, voice sounding strained through all the sincerity. “We can have breakfast again next week, okay? It can be our thing.”

Anders wiped his eyes. “Won’t mom start to get upset if you don’t go to church?”

His dad wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He shook his head, staying quiet for a long time but not letting his son out of his grip. “I have done this entire thing wrong, for a long time.” He said finally. He gestured between father and son, nearly identical copies of each other. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders. They slanted at the same angle as Anders’. “If your mother wants to be mad at me for fixing my mistakes, she can be. I’m done making her mistakes with her.” He cleared his throat again. “One day she’ll come around. I know she will.”

Anders just nodded, understanding. He didn’t believe what his dad said about his mom, but he believed the rest. He was still sniffling like a child. The front door opened, signaling the end of the moment. Anders quickly rubbed his face clean.

“I’m gonna go.” Anders told him, hating his mom extra for ruining the only good thing that had ever happened to him. His dad nodded knowingly, looking just as upset as Anders did. “I’ve got, like, four guitars in my room if you ever want to borrow one.”

“Okay, son.” His dad smiled, staying put while Anders tip toed out. Just when he was about to reach the living room his dad called his name, making him pause. “I think we should go get those tattoos. If you want another one.”

Anders laughed, resisting the urge to look to his left where his mother was setting down her purse and kicking off her heels. She didn’t look at him either.

“That sounds fucking sick, Dad. You just say the word.”

///

On Sunday, after Anders had made his breakfast with his dad and Logan had cut her hair and Rachel had moved everything she’d ever owned into her new home, Harry was having an equally as exciting day.

He walked down the stairs, having slept in way later than he ever did. He’d been a little miffed when he’d checked his phone, realizing you’d let him spend half his day sleeping. He’d grunted, sitting up. The windows were open, and it smelled like spring today. It felt like spring all over, really, in a way he couldn’t even explain.

By the time he’d made his way to the stairs his bad mood had vanished. He couldn’t be in a bad mood these days if he’d wanted to. How could he be mad at Y/N for letting him sleep in when she was here? How could he be mad at anything when she was here?

Even when he’d heard the voices coming from the lower level of the house as he descended the stairs, he still wasn’t mad. Worried, obviously. But still in a good mood.

“What is happening?” He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes. The entire house looked like it had been ransacked, things missing and random men wearing masks walking around. It was more like the opposite of a robbery, Harry noticed, seeing the boxes and random pieces of furniture scattered around. He came to his senses, slowly but surely, taking it all in.

“Baby!!” Y/N shouted, rushing over to him. Before Harry could speak at all she’d covered his eyes with one of her tiny hands, using her other to grip his t-shirt firmly. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet!”

Harry pushed her hand away softly, looking around the room. He took in her subtle disappointment, her lower lip sticking out ever so slightly. (Upon seeing that he actually had to hop off his train of thought to take it between his own lips for a moment). He cleared his sleepy throat.

“What is going on?” He asked again, trying to force both of his eyes to open as he squinted at his girlfriend. She sighed, frowning.

“It was a surprise.” She huffed, crossing her arms. She shook her head, disappointed. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t sleep long enough.”

Harry couldn’t help leaning down and kissing her again, longer this time. He kissed her until she let out that breath she was always holding, her feet relaxing off their tippy toes so she could give all of her attention to him. Harry loved the way she always did that, he thought. He should tell her how nice it is.

Harry forgot about the commotion around them, stopping the conversation entirely for a second to tell Y/N that he loved her so, so, so much. It was true, more so today than ever before. As he continued to kiss her he whispered all the things he’d missed out on saying by staying asleep for so long. He’d wasted so much time, he thought. He could’ve had, like, four more hours with her than he did if he’d woken up earlier. He brushed her hair away from her face, deciding that he wouldn’t tell her about that little breath-holding thing she did when he kissed her just in case she thought too much about it and stopped doing it. He’d die if she stopped doing it, he thought. He knew he would.

“It’s already 10:30.” He said finally when Y/N pulled away from him all too soon to continue pouting. “How late was I supposed to sleep?”

“At least until 12.” She answered seriously, making Harry’s eyes pinched shut with laughter. He didn’t expect her to actually have had a time in mind. “I purposefully kept you up until, like, 3 just so you would sleep in.”

She never ceased to amaze him. “You fuckin’ what?” He giggled, overwhelmed in that moment by how much he loved her. He was so overwhelmed with gratitude towards the universe that he almost felt choked up.

“I had a whole thing planned….” She sighed, shaking her head. “Anders said it wouldn’t work but I just thought….”

Holy shit. “Did you ask Anders to call me last night and keep me up?”

“Yeah. He said he kept you as long as he could…”

Harry couldn’t fucking believe his ears. It was all too perfect. Maybe he was just so delirious with affection that he was missing something, but to him this seemed like the funniest thing in the world. Men still wandered about, moving shit here or there and yelling across the room to each other. Harry didn’t even hear them.

“What was the master plan, huh?” Harry asked, completely oblivious but not even minding it.

“The plan was to keep you up as long as I could before having Anders call you and keep you up longer so I could sleep and wake up early and you’d be extra sleepy.”

(Harry had spoken to Andy for three and a half hours last night. About literally nothing. Harry figured Anders was in one of those moods where he just didn’t want to be alone and he’d forced himself to stay up as long as he could so he could be there for him. Turns out it was just a silly little trick and not a mental breakdown at all, which was nice.)

“And why am I supposed to be so sleepy?” Harry asked, pulling Y/N into his chest. He looked around again, realizing it wasn’t just new furniture being delivered here but Y/N’s furniture from home. Y/N’s makeup table. Her bean bag chair she never let anyone else but him use. A box with Logan’s handwriting on the side labeled ‘winter clothes’. He looked closer, realizing all at once what was going on. “What’s happening?” He asked again before Y/N could answer his first question. He pushed her back so he could see her face, heart beating erratically. “What is all of this?”

Y/N just huffed. “It’s my stuff from home. Or some of it, at least.”

Harry heard himself gasp, Y/N confirming what he already knew. He looked around again, and it was true. It was her stuff from home.

“I was going to ask if it was okay, but then I just decided to go for it. It was supposed to be a surprise once everything was, like, unpacked and everything…” She grimaced, eyeing Harry nervously. “You’re mad, aren’t you? I know I should’ve asked, I just got carried away-“

“Mad?” Harry laughed, both hands coming to cover his mouth as he looked around. He let his head fall forward, his eyes closing. He recovered, looking up again. “This is all your stuff?”

“Most of it.” She nodded, looking uneasy. “Is that okay? I just thought since we’re moved in together…”

“Moved in together?”

“No, I mean- I just meant-“ Her cheeks flushed bright red, her eyes widening. Harry also loved it when she did that, when she got super embarrassed and made that face she always made. He didn’t tell her how much he loved that, either, just so she would always do it. “Like, living together.”

He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. She’d had all of this shit brought to fucking London from LA, she’d gone through the trouble of getting her own movers and even conspired against Harry so he’d be surprised when it was all done. She brought winter clothes. For winter. He couldn’t help it when his eyes started to sting and he teared up. His throat was tight suddenly.

“This is amazing, baby.” He choked out, smiling the best he could at her. Her shoulders relaxed, her own smile replacing the worry on her face. “I… I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I was so worried you’d be mad.” She gasped, taking a deep breath as she deflated. She giggled, relieved. “I was up all night getting ready and I almost called the whole thing off….”

“How early were you awake?” Harry asked incredulously. It was all too good to be true.

“I told Anders to call me thirty minutes after you guys got off the phone and you were out like a light.” She admitted, looking embarrassed though Harry couldn’t for the life of him understand why. “So like, 3:45 I think. Somewhere around there.”

Harry choked on his next breath, having to turn away for a second to compose himself. He was still a mess when he turned around to face the amazing, chaotic, beautiful girl before him. He pulled her back to him, hugging her tightly. He felt like a little kid on Christmas.

“Thank you.” He whispered, burrying his face in his hair. She did the thing she always did where she tells him not to thank her, but he did the thing he always did and ignored her. “This means so much to me, baby. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.”

She didn’t say anything else, just taking his face and pulling his mouth to hers. He loved the way she kissed him, he thought. Like she was trying to tell him something.

“Now you’re stuck with me.” She snickered into his lips, thinking she was being cheeky. But as she said it all Harry could think was that this meant she really was going to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere, at least until winter. He choked back the emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees, pushing his hands into Y/N’s hair as he kissed her. He kissed her the way she always did, like she was telling him something. And with every kiss Harry was saying to her, in his own silent way, everything he’d ever wanted to.

Thank you for not leaving me, he told her. Thank you for being the person who stuck around. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for letting me grow when I needed to. Thank you for loving me even when you hated me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for bringing winter clothes. Thank you for making me feel like Harry, without the rest. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. I love you, I love you, I love you.

And then Y/N did that thing she always did where she gasped for breath between kisses, thinking Harry didn’t hear the way she had to gulp for air. He thought about slowing down, about letting her catch her breath, but he selfishly liked the way she gasped like that. He liked everything about her. He liked the way she gasped and the way she said his name and the way she would say “pleeeease” when he had her really wound up. He liked the way her hands felt on his stomach. He liked the way her legs felt over his, the way her stomach moved when she breathed really hard. He liked the way her cheeks started to turn pink all the way up to her ears and down her neck.

“Come here.” He mumbled to her, trying to maintain the kiss as he pulled her through the mess towards the stairs. They both stumbled their way across, tripping over a box they hadn’t noticed. It only took them a second to be wound together again, tumbling up the stairs like they were drunk or high or dizzy.

“You know I love you, right?” Y/N panted, reaching for the doorknob behind her. Harry had his hands around her waist, keeping her against him. He moved his kisses to her neck, mumbling an mhmm.

“Tell me again so I don’t forget.” He pleaded, throwing the door closed behind them once they’d made their way into the room. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.” She whispered. They bumped into the edge of the bed, tumbling onto their new bedspread that had just arrived a few days earlier.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

Harry pushed her body down so she was laying, situating himself between her legs. His heart was pounding out of his chest, with excitement and an indescribable fondness. He was overwhelmed again by how much he liked her. She smelled like strawberries today, just like the lotion she’d gotten in the mail from her mom. Harry breathed her in, overwhelmed. Forever overwhelmed.

“I love you, too.” He rasped to her, “You know that, yeah? You know how much I love you?”

“Yes, baby.”

“No you don’t.” He giggled. “You have no idea. No idea.”

He remembered saying something like that to her at the house party a lifetime ago. It was still true.

Harry realized suddenly why he must have taken her up here. He must have known the entire time what he was about to do. His stomach flipped, considering it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes extra tight as if to hide himself, though Y/N wouldn’t have noticed.

“Baby…” He managed to force out, “Sunflower….”

“What baby?”

He wanted to say it so bad. It was just there, behind his front teeth. His heart stuttered for a second.

“Can I show you have much I love you, sunflower?” He whispered, not able to say it any louder. “I want to show you how much I love you. I need to show you.”

The sound Y/N made was enough to put Harry in the dirt. She chirped like a little bird, a short giggle following. Everything felt lighthearted and easy. She hummed into the kiss, letting the sound turn into a soft moan.

“I want you to show me.” She whispered back. “I love you so much, baby. I want you to show me.”

She mumbled it all, broken up between kisses. She told him again that she loved him, saying it over and over again as the curtain next to the bed whipped around in the breeze. Harry believed her entirely, and he was scared and excited and awestruck and giddy all at once.

He was finally going to do it, he thought to himself. It was finally happening. He thought about backing out again, but Y/N did that thing again where she slides her hand under his shirt and touches his belly. The butterflies under her fingers flapped harder and Harry folded immediately. He was so nervous he almost felt blinded by it. He took a hand and placed it over hers where she touched him, just under the tattoo.

“I’m nervous.” He said out loud even though he didn’t want to. She tried to remove her hand but he pressed it down harder so it wouldn’t leave.

“Sorry-“

“I want it there.” He whispered. “I always wanted to tell you I like it when you touch me like that.”

He wanted to keep that to himself, like all the other secret little things she did and had no idea about, but it just came out. He supposed she could know about one of her little things, at least. He could keep everything else for himself, which was more than enough.

///

It was while you and Harry were whispering all these sweet little things to each other that the world, already turned upside down, flipped even further. Sunday wasn’t over yet, after all, and that same outside force that pushed Rachel to leave her home and cut her hair, the same propulsion that pushed Anders to tell his dad he loved him, the same hand that guided Harry and yourself up the stairs…. It was moving someone else, too. Right to your doorstep. The one in LA, at least.

That outside force came in the form of a hard knock on the front door of the house you’d paid for but hadn’t been to in weeks. Logan and Rachel were already knee deep in an episode of New Girl, making it a particularly bad time for visitors, even more so than the pandemic.

Logan shuffled to the door, annoyed. She’d been alone and totally fucking bored out of her mind with nothing to do for weeks but now that Rachel was here she suddenly had a million things that needed her attention. As minor as it was, she was still pissed.

But when she opened the door, she didn’t know what to feel. Immediately she was hit with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. She felt everything at once.

“What in the ever living fuck are you doing here?” She asked. The visitor nearly tipped over, eyes glazed. He shrugged.

“I came to- fucking shit-“ The guest spoke, steadying himself on the wall with an outstretched arm. His hair had grown out since the VMAs, and it looked like shit. “I came to talk to Y/N. Is she here?”

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