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stylessatellite · 7 months

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“No,” she stresses, “I actually would vehemently deny that I wanted to even look at you, but Mei and Adam always loved poking fun. Always said we needed to like – fuck out the tension or something.” She shook her head to herself, slicing back into her food – at least the embarrassment hadn’t ruined her appetite, “I’d always tell them you hated me too much to do anything like that.”

“But you wanted to?” He is still smiling.

“What I want is to smother you with a pillow.”

“That’s very kinky, babe, but we should probably lose our virginity before we explore that,” he is immediately assaulted by a pillow careening from her bed to his, slapping him in the head, “Hey –”

“You’re obnoxious,” she groans, “I can’t tell if you hating me was better than you not.”

Y/N and Harry don't hate each other at all, it's actually the opposite

part 1

part 2

part 3

22k+ words

iv.

Y/N is. . .not used to this Harry.

The Harry that Y/N met and had been privy to for the months that she’d been here was mean. With eyes that cut daggers through her for breathing and harsh, annoyed groans and sighs whenever she was what he deemed too close to him – he made her feel hated. It was never a secret that he disliked her; if anything, it was public knowledge that Harry didn’t care for his classmate. That he thought she was annoying and loud, and wasn’t as good of a dancer as people hyped her up to be. Hell, he’d never even said anything nice to her except by accident.

(It was within the first month of her being at the school; Y/N had hugged Niall because he gave her his extra bagel prior to them walking into the studio. When Niall made his way over to Harry, he leaned in and sniffed at him, “Are you wearing perfume? It smells good.” And when Niall takes a sniff of himself and lets Harry know that it was actually Y/N’s perfume he was smelling, his face soured and puckered before replying, “You know, the longer it stays in the air, it’s too fucking strong – kind of grating don’t you think? Shouldn’t you change?”)

And then after her incredibly embarrassing, drunken complaints about him being the absolute worst to her. . .he’d started to soften up a little. Baby steps, of course, because he was still rolling his eyes at her, and he’d still call her stupid, or dumb – but he was praising her too. He’d tell her she did well with a certain move, or compliment her posture, or – away from the dancing aspect of it – he’d even say he liked her shirt if it represented a band or a show that he recognized. The way that he danced with her was more gentle, and when she spoke to him it didn’t seem like he wanted to scream just to drown her voice out.

Then, within all of that, there were the odd moments of almost uncharacteristic kindness that he would give her. Letting her sleep in his bed when she had knocked out on his bean bag during an impromptu movie night she wasn’t technically invited to. Giving her his snack when she hadn’t eaten breakfast, taking care of her when she had a fever (even though she’d snapped at him before that), spending time with her before the show, letting her fall asleep in his bed again.

And, of course, there was the kiss. He didn’t scold her for stumbling during the show – the only person scolding her, was herself, but she’d always imagined that if she fucked something up Harry would be her worst critic. So imagine her surprise when instead of immediately telling her how stupid she was for not practicing that move enough times that there would be no reason to stress over it – he took her somewhere quiet. He promised her that it was in her head, that it wasn’t that big of a mistake, that nobody would notice unless they were waiting for it, that she had been doing so well. . .and then he kissed her. A careful, tender press, not enough to even smudge her makeup but still her heart was racing.

There was a significant shift in how Harry looked at her, from the beginning of this semester to the night of the show. A gaze heavy with disdain, irritation, and animosity is replaced by one of sentiment, warmth, and care; his features soften when he sees her rather than harden. Y/N felt comfort under his eyes rather than uneasy or agitated. Being around him wasn’t a problem, it was something she looked forward to, and that alone was something difficult to process.

The morning after the show, when Y/N wakes up, she’s in her hotel bed – or at least, she’s in the hotel bed that was supposed to be Christopher’s but since he never showed back up last night, she figured it was hers now. Sunlight funnels through the curtains, leaving the room bright and Y/N has to squint in order to see. She was confused because she knew she didn’t wake up on her own – her alarm hadn’t blared in her ear either, which could only mean that her bladder woke her up, or an outside source.

And the outside source, who was hovering over her bed, looked like he could have only woken up just a couple of moments prior to her. “Do you want breakfast?” He inquired, “I can order room service, but they switch to the brunch menu in like ten minutes and it looks like shit.”

Y/N’s nowhere near awake enough to be making decisions – she’s barely awake enough to open her mouth – so she pushes herself to a seat and pats around for her phone. It was tucked under the pillow beside her head. When she pressed the screen to wake it up the time read 10:02. Harry, at some point, had sat down on the bed beside her close to her feet, and with the position she was suddenly accosted by the memories of him having her split open, his tongue on her, his filthy mouth saying filthy words, and Oh my god!

“Helloooo?” He waved his hand in front of her face, “Do you need to go back to bed?”

“No, no,” yes, actually, she does, because her mind swarms with the images of him with swollen, red lips glistening with spit and with her – and not only that, she’s confronted with the bewildering feelings that flooded her at the same time, “I’m – I want –” she pressed her knuckles into her eyes, trying to rub the sleep from them, and make the world slightly less bleary, “I want what you want.”

He snorted, pushing the hair back from his face. It was now Y/N realized he was shirtless, and his pajama bottoms slung low on his hips – his muscles shifted beneath the skin, and his biceps looked extra. . .beefy today, almost as if to torture her. He’s wearing wire glasses that she’s never seen before, they rest on the bridge of his nose, and his chin is speckled with a beard trying to grow. His hair was mussed and soft and she wanted to run her fingers through it, then she remembered how it felt between her fingers last night, and she felt like her face was hotter than a skillet.

“I was looking around, and there’s a little spot we could walk to, as long as your legs aren’t hurting.” Then, as if she wouldn’t know what body part he was talking about, he laid his hands on her shin, “Hm? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were sore?”

Y/N cleared her throat, “I – a little, but. . .but nothing more than usual. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

He smiled, “Okay,” he told her, “But if you wanted to stay here and sleep a little more, I can always just go grab it.”

And he was nice to her last night – he was so fucking nice last night, but she had just figured that was because of the show. Everyone feels closer to each other on show nights, no matter the feelings they held for them prior, each person was tender with one another. There was solidarity between them and their desire to put on a good performance, so it was easy to forget if you disliked someone in the weeks leading up to it. Who cared about petty rivalries then?

So she’d imagined he was just running off the pleasant vibes from the show, running off a high, and the immense, bittersweet relief of not stressing or worrying over it anymore. They’d done what was needed, he could finally let the tension seep out of his muscles and enjoy the night, whether Y/N was there occupying the space beside him or not.

But if that were the case, and that was the reasoning behind his kindness last night, then why was Harry being nice to her this morning? Y/N didn’t know whether she should just ask zero questions and enjoy the continued tenderness, or should she be suspicious of it. Was she being lured into a false sense of security just for him to forget any of this the next time they stepped foot into the studio? Sure, he’d been nicer the last couple of weeks, but who’s to say that wasn’t just to remove excess strain from their performance? What if he still disliked her just as much but he was just better at hiding it?

Another memory flutters through her, sudden and surprising – how could she forget the most important part of last night? What he had said to her, that had opened up the floodgates to emotions Y/N did not even want to begin to sort through?

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, for everything.”

“. . .But I was awful – horrible to you, and you never deserved it. What I saw out there tonight – you’re beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful, and I was such an asshole. Just want to make it up to you.”

He’d apologized, he’d called her beautiful, and he’d finally been praising her for what she was doing. Technically, he had started praising her a couple of weeks before the show, but last night was the first time she’d really believed it. It felt earnest like he was desperate to convince her, and with all he had done last night with his words, and his mouth, it had worked.

So Y/N was at a loss, now. Why was he being so nice after the show? Did he really feel that bad for being mean to her before? Had seeing her dance and dancing with her really changed his mind so drastically that he would still be pleasant with her after the show finished? It was just hard to believe that.

“Why’re you still being sweet to me?” She narrowed her eyes at him, her hands settled in her lap still covered by the pillowy comforter. Harry, who had previously been looking at his phone, flickered his eyes up and tilted his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she cleared her throat, shifting in her spot, “Isn’t it. . .like you don’t have to keep it up, is what I’m saying. The show is over and you apologized, so if you – you just don’t have to keep being sweet if you don’t want to.”

Harry looked confused — the kind of look you’d give someone if you’d already discussed something and they were acting like they’d never heard about it before. His brows dipped inward and he lowered his phone from his face, “I already told you, I deserve to grovel.”

“Wha–”

“I was a prick for nine months of knowing you when you didn’t deserve it. I want to make it up to you,” he explained, “I haven’t said what I have because of the show, or because I was faking any of it for the sake of the show. I don’t know if you remember but I begged to eat your pussy last night, so I would hardly say that’s pretending.” He sighed, shaking his head, “But I only have myself to blame that you would think I was being fake nice when I offered to go pick up breakfast. I just have a lot of work to do.”

Y/N’s mind is whirling, “You – you mean it? Because if you’re planning on fixing it then that would mean we’re spending time together still? Even without the showcase?”

“I mean I was planning on it, yes?” He leaned back some, “Unless you didn’t want to.”

“No, I do! I want to, I just. . .I guess I'm not used to this, that's all. I don’t know how to. . respond to this version of you.”

Harry huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes a little, “I’ll be sure to still act like an asshole so I don’t throw your system into shock, yeah? How does that sound?”

They did end up going to the cafe together, and they bumped into a few of their classmates who sang praises of their performance and the chemistry they had together. She and Harry occupied a little booth in the corner, and while Harry nursed a warm mocha latte between his palms, he inquired if she had any plans with Mei and Adam that day. Y/N nodded somewhat regretfully (why was she regretful? Because she realized that she’d actually just rather stay at the hotel and keep sleeping until her brain feels less fuzzy and her bones and muscles less weary? Or because she realized that she wanted to spend time with Harry too?) and told him about their plans to go shopping. He explained that he and Niall were visiting an art museum, because of an interactive exhibit they had for this month on desserts around the world.

At the mention of desserts, Harry’s face lights up like he’d only just remembered something, “Hey, who’s watching Custard while you’re gone?”

Honestly, Y/N wasn’t expecting Harry to take to Custard as well as he did. She didn’t even think he was the type to like animals, but when he’d taken care of her when she was sick he and the kitten must have bonded. Y/N vaguely remembered waking up after falling asleep in his bed the night before the show, to find Custard snuggled up against Harry’s back (and since Custard was so comfortable, so was Y/N, so she snuggled back into Harry’s side and let herself slide back into a dream). Maybe this was all a convoluted plan for him to get closer to the kitten – you have to be kind to the owner to get to the pet, that’s just a basic fact.

“Oh, just my friend Felix,” she told him, “He said he would pop in on her every day a couple of times a day to make sure she isn’t lonely and her food is still full.”

Harry hums, low and slow, “Who’s Felix?” He pressed.

Y/N peels apart her croissant, pressing it between her fingers, “Mm, I never brought him up? He works at the bakery a couple of blocks from us – you’ve been there, right? He’s so sweet,” she smiled at the thought of him, letting the piece of croissant hover over her mouth, “You’d know him if you saw him! He’s the one with the freckles.”

She was an avid bakery visitor and was frequent enough of a face that Felix started recognizing her and her orders relatively quickly. He’s very sweet, and runs this shop with his family; the flat that sits atop the bakery is where he lives, and there are always the prettiest flowers on the balcony. Felix has a cat too, named Lucy, and sometimes she and Custard have playdates but Lucy is a bit older and gets annoyed with Custard’s kittenish energy quickly. Still, it’s a nice time for her and Felix to drink coffee and gossip – he even comes to see the shows!

Y/N explained all of this to Harry, who hummed and nodded in a noncommittal way, and the lighthearted atmosphere shifted ever so slightly, so she figured she’d stop talking about him. Who wants to hear about how much fun you have with someone else? “So, yeah, Custard is doing okay. I miss her already though,” she sighed, “Nothing like waking up to her stomping all over my head.”

A small smile twitches over Harry’s mouth, “She does have an affinity for stomping on heads, doesn’t she?” And just like that, whatever shift had happened, reverted just as quickly. Y/N wondered if maybe Harry actually did know Felix and they didn’t take too well to each other; it wouldn’t surprise her, honestly. Because Felix was sweet and warm and kind, and Harry had a knack for coming off as impassive, distant, and cold when you first meet him (and several months after that too, in Y/N’s case). It would make sense that they didn’t mesh well with one another.

Still, if Harry was going to stay true to his word and hang around her, he might bump into Felix once or twice. She could only hope they could get past their first impressions of each other if that were the case.

. . .

“Turkish desserts date back thousands of years to the Byzantine Empire,” Niall read off the plaque in front of them, making a show of actually caring about the dessert facts when both he and Harry knew he was just after the free sample beside the display. Harry is unsure why Niall felt like it was necessary to show some interest when most people just came right up and plucked the baklava from the serving tray without a blink, but he doesn’t question it. Even if he did, it wasn’t like it would stop Niall from doing it.

The days following a showcase were always weird; having nothing to focus all his energy and effort on leaves Harry with a lot of time – too much time, really, until they start working on their winter showcase. But the winter showcase was the same every year, so save for the people who had to learn it for the first time, it was a pretty lax experience. This time around, it would definitely be relaxed for him and Y/N, because they would not be given the lead parts since they just had them. Despite the competitive and strict nature of their school, they were surprisingly fair when it really came down to it.

But they don’t really start working on it until their mid-semester break is over, so everyone has time to relax their overworked bodies and submit to self-care that may have been sacrificed before.

Harry wondered what Y/N would do with her time off and if she would be opposed to spending any of it with him. He has an overarching goal to make up for all his time being shitty to her, but he was realizing he might have his work cut out for him. Because even after he’d practically begged to eat her out, cleaned her up, and pressed a kiss to her temple as she was falling asleep (though she doesn’t seem to remember that part), Y/N was still confused this morning as to why he was being kind to her.

Really, Harry only had himself to blame. After being treated in such a shitty way by someone for so long, it was probably hard to accept that they were turning a new leaf. Harry’s old, negative feelings toward her had stripped away the same as the trees shedding their summer coat. New buds stem from the branches, but Y/N’s convinced the breeze might shake them off. He’ll have to try extra hard to prove to her otherwise.

And then there’s the. . feeling that took him by surprise, at the mention of her friend. The one who was checking on Custard while they were out of town – Felix who is so sweet and has freckles, and Harry knew exactly who she was talking about. He’s been to the same bakery, he’s met the same Felix, and she isn’t lying – he’s incredibly sweet and his freckles speckle his cheeks like a constellation, and now, suddenly, Harry bemoans that he’s not sweet with freckles.

It’s so challenging to face the consequences of his actions; Harry has never been more irritated with himself than he is right now.

“What was going on in the Byzantine Empire, you think?” Niall murmured around a mouthful.

. . .

Harry wondered if Y/N would have tried to figure out the sleeping situation, or if Christopher and Dasia would have fought again and she’d be requesting Y/N back in her room, but nothing like that happens. When Harry gets back to the hotel room, Y/N is already there, with one of those big fuzzy bow headbands tucked around her head and a face mask drying on her skin. She’s in her pajamas – or what passes for pajamas, so an oversized shirt and a pair of pajama pants that look soft. Y/N is sitting on top of the made bed, her laptop cracked open in the space in front of her, and scrolling. The air around the bathroom is still humid so he figures she only just recently left the shower.

At the sound of him entering the room, she perks up, her gaze pulled from the computer, “How were the sweets?” She inquired, tilting her head, “I was kind of so jealous about halfway through Adam trying on what looked like the same pair of jeans that I wasn’t stuffing my face with you and Ni, instead.”

He snorted, kicking his shoes off by toeing at the heel, “Very filling,” he gave a short nod, “I can feel plenty of cavities already forming.”

“Lucky,” she pouted at him, “I don’t think I took all the hot water so you can have a shower if you like.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied, shuffling toward his suitcase, throwing the top of it open, and scruffing through his clothes to find his pajamas. He tucks his body wash and shampoo up under his arm, his clothes folded in his hands with the conditioner bottled tucked between his fingers. At the time of him walking into the bathroom and turning on the water, it was an entirely innocent endeavor. He stripped down, dropped the clothes in a pile on the floor, and stepped under the hot spray, and it was still innocent then too.

Until he was thinking about Y/N. . until he started thinking about last night. When he thought about how she split her thighs for him, how she tasted, and the sounds that left her mouth when he licked her. Honestly, it feels like a hyperrealistic wet dream now that he thinks about it, and they were acting so normal around each other – or as normal as they could with their circumstances. And the thought of it makes his cock twitch, which he could ignore. . .but if he could get rid of the memory of her moaning for him, her asking so sweetly if he’d rub against her if he would fit inside of her.

He shudders at the thought. Maybe he soaps up his cock for a little too long, and he keeps going, getting harder and harder until he’s dripping. And then he has to take care of it, the tip ruddy and swollen, slick and soapy. He sucks in a deep breath, not taking time to tease and edge himself how he normally might like to. If he takes too long in the shower Y/N definitely knows what he’s doing and he doesn’t want her to think he’s a pervert, even when he was begging her last night to taste her.

So Harry fucks his hand nice and quick, biting down hard enough on his bottom lip to suppress any noises. When he cums, he has to clear his throat to cover up a moan, it shoots against the wall and dribbles over his knuckles. Harry breathes out, washes it off the wall, and cleans off his hands before he finishes his shower. He washes his hair, finishes cleaning off his body, and turns the water off. The hotel towels are never very nice, rough fibers that barely soak up the droplets of water on his damp skin, but he makes do and gets dressed. After he brushes his teeth (a little more intensely than he normally would after all the sweets he ate) and washes his face, he makes his way back out. Y/N sighed, “Thank god,” she murmured, “I needed to wash this off my face like forever ago.”

Harry snorted, “Sorry, babe. It was weirdly humid in the exhibit, I felt like I was sweating my ass off.”

Y/N doesn’t stay around for his reasoning and he’s thankful because he’s positive that she would have seen how bright his cheeks got at being halfway called out. Harry rumples his lips once he hears the sink turn on while she washes off the mask, and Harry crawls into bed. He snuggled up under his blanket, hooked his phone to the charger, and scrolled through Twitter. Once Y/N came back, she clicked the lights off and dove into her bed across from him, sighing contentedly once she was comfortable under her blankets.

Harry thinks it should be out of his system by now, honestly, because he came not even ten minutes ago but now something bubbles and itches beneath his skin. She’s just there, across from him, and Harry wondered if he could get something started like he did last night. But how does he go about it? He’s usually a bit more suave with conquests but Y/N isn’t a conquest. Hell, he isn’t even really sure what he wants from her! He wants to make up for what he’s said to her and how he’s treated her, he wants to at least be friends with her, at the very least just be friendly with her. But Harry just can’t shake this pressing need to touch her, to taste her, to make it better that way. He wants to soothe away any angst between them with the very same tongue that lashed so much hate toward her. Wants to make her forget any negative connotations she might have had with his mouth.

“Y/N?” He tries to keep his voice calm and measured – indifferent, even, so she doesn't feel pressured, and she hums to let him know that she is listening, “Do you want me to eat you out again?”

There was a pause, it felt like the room was holding its breath waiting for her response. He’s playing with his hands over the covers, avoiding looking at her, but when he hears the mattress creak and her head slide against the pillow to look at him, Harry turns to face her.

“Again?” Her brows are raised, and there’s this look on her face that suggests she’s genuinely surprised – he doesn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed he’d probably be pretty confused too, since there had been nothing leading up to this sudden desire to. All he’d done was see her in pajamas then take a shower. . .there was nothing flirty or suggestive. A couple of weeks ago he hated the thought of being around her, and now he was asking to taste her for the second time in just two nights.

He nods, his face feels hot and he wonders if his ears betray him, glowing red, “Yeah, again.”

“But why?” Her head tilts a little, “I mean, I guess what I’m wondering is what you get out of it? Even last night I was the one who wanted you to cum with me and you were fine with just. . .with just cumming in your pants.”

Harry feels embarrassed now, more so than before, and he wants to shrivel back beneath the covers, “I just like it and I want to,” he tells her truthfully, “If you don’t want it, that’s fine.”

“No, I – I want to,” she sits up in bed, turning toward him more, “I do. Just, nobody has ever wanted to get me off that badly.” She clears her throat a little, “You really want to? It isn’t because you’re feeling guilty? Because if it is you know you could just buy me brekkie every once in a while, you don’t have to force yourself to do anything.”

This would be easier to sort through if it was only because I was feeling guilty, is what Harry wants to say, but he doesn’t, “I’m definitely not forcing myself to do anything. I really want to,” is how he replies instead. Harry would grovel – he’d buy her breakfast and he’d be extra kind to her and he’d invite her over to take control of his projector for whatever Korean drama she wanted to put on – but he didn’t necessarily need to make it up in a sexual way. What, was he going to eat her out every night until he felt like he’d made it up to her? As delightful as being snug between her thighs sounded, he knew that wasn’t a feasible way to correct a friendship. This was a more. . .selfish desire of his.

Still, he pulls the blankets off of him in the bed, and takes the short two steps between their beds before he kneels up on hers again, “You’ve been with shite blokes if nobody has wanted to get you off.”

Y/N takes in a shaky breath, watching as he pulls up the blankets and reveals her body beneath it, still in her shirt but she’d shrugged the pajama bottoms off after climbing in, “I just sometimes wonder if your amygdala is confusing anger and arousal or something.” He presses the hem of her shirt up, uncovering ribbed, cotton panties that fit snugly around her hips, “Like your neurons are misfiring.”

“I don’t get it either,” he replied truthfully, lowering down between her spread thighs, “I reckon it’s needless to question though. Isn’t this a nice change compared to what our relationship was before?”

Harry does wonder why he was able to give up that remaining dislike for her so quickly; the way Niall puts it is that Harry isn’t as big of an asshole as he tries to make himself out to be, but he hardly thinks that’s the reason. And Harry had never considered himself one of those knob-headed pricks who disliked someone because they wanted to fuck them so badly either – no, he thinks his feelings were legitimate. He didn’t like Y/N at the start, and up until a month or two ago, he had only thought of her in a negative light.

But he had no true basis for these feelings – he thinks that’s the difference. The feelings were easily evaporated because he had no reason to dislike her, other than some twisted form of envy and annoyance that he handled like a child. Y/N had always played into it before – always ribbed him back, countered his verbal attacks and eye rolls, so he’d always thought they were in the same boat. When she called him out on it though – when he was able to look past his own shitty way of dealing with emotions, he’d realized how stupid they were.

He remembers the first time they did something like this, fueled by anger, the passion and distaste for one another mixing and merging into a confusing feeling. Harry remembers how well she took to him teasing and taunting her; how even though she was whining, she squeezed and pulsed around nothing. How wet she was, dripping and slicking up her thighs, tightening up around her fingers. Does she like it when he’s rougher with her or more tender? Does she want him to tease her or give her what she wants?

Harry doesn’t really waste much time getting into it. He presses kisses around the waistband of her panties, sucking and nipping at the skin but not hard enough to leave marks. Y/N readjusts her hips when Harry’s large palms encompass them, squeezing her when he plucks at the elastic with his teeth. Last night he was driven by guilt and the need to apologize – he didn’t feel that tonight. This was different, more carnal, and when he runs the flat of his tongue up her slit and she sighs out like it’s the best thing she’s ever felt – that’s what drives him now.

He finds his place and pace easily since it has been just under 24 hours since they were last in this position. Y/N tastes just as good as she did the night prior, while his tongue separates her folds around it, slick and warm. Her voice wavers when she moans, the hand beside her head curls up in the pillow she’s lying on and her thighs twitch like she wants to close them. There’s a familiarity there now that Harry can appreciate; he remembers what makes her hips spasm and her breathing stutter. How when he finally tightens his lips around her clit and sucks, she gasps and reaches down to thread her fingers through his hair.

Despite himself, he needs a breath at some point, so he pulls off with a deep breath but replaces his tongue with his fingers for the time being. Y/N watched him closely, just as he wanted her to last night, and her lips pouted out, “What?” He probed, “I need to breathe too.”

“You really won’t fuck me?” Y/N says, still pouting, “You won’t even try?”

Harry stares at her for a second, his fingers never stopping the swirl over her swollen button, “Don’t you want that to be special?” He inquired, “It’d be your first time, hm? You want that with a dick who routinely makes you angry?”

She frowns, “It being special isn’t important to me, I just want it to be good,” she reasoned with him, “And I feel like you would make it good, wouldn’t you? You know what you’re doing.”

He tries to ignore how his cock twitches, heat renewed and coiling in his lower belly as he slows his fingers down. He paints the pad of his forefinger up and down her slit, pausing at her hole, where she’s wet and a little drippy, “Hmmm,” he pretends to think about it – Harry would if she wanted to; he wasn’t one to ignore his more base desires if consent was given and both parties were willing – but he also hadn’t been lying back when he said he didn’t fuck virgins. Harry was big, and he wasn’t trying to stroke himself off when he said it – he was hard to take in, for men and women alike. If Harry was going to fuck her, he feels like they would need to build up to that – it would take time and effort, and he thinks it would give her a good amount of time to decide if this is something she really wants. Or if she was just running high off post-show endorphins and their newfound friendship.

“I do know what I’m doing,” he murmured, letting a single finger sink in down to the knuckle and Y/N sucks in a sharp breath, “And I know that your tiny little pussy couldn’t handle me straight off, hm? Remember how I said I’d need to train you to take me?” She nods, her heels digging into the mattress, “If that’s what you want, then we’ll start slow. I’ll fuck you open with one finger tonight and if you take them well, we’ll do two next time, hm? And work up all the way until I can just slide my cock right inside.”

Even with a single finger, her walls are tight around him, a snug fit that milks around it. He kisses her clit, gentle and slow, his mouth slightly parted and his tongue out. Harry doesn’t mind being noisy with it, slurping, curling his finger, and finding the spot his fingers had been acquainted with in the studio when he bent her over the barre. Harry is already throbbing in his briefs again, despite just having gotten off, but her taste, the sounds leaving her mouth, and how tight she feels around just a single finger.

It doesn’t take her long to get close, and when he really puts effort in fucking into her, Y/N’s hips twitch, “I’m going to –” she gasps out, “Harry, I’m going to cum”

He pulls his tongue away, “Should I let you?”

“Yes,” she frowns like she couldn’t believe he would even suggest a possibility where she didn’t cum, and there’s a flood of arousal that smacks into him — it makes him want to make her wait. Makes him want to edge her until she’s trembling and begging and thinks that he’s not going to let her cum at all.

But he isn’t that mean, is the thing, especially when he hears, “Yes, please.”

So Harry lets her. He sucks her clit back into his mouth and heavily pets the spongy bundle inside of her until she milks his fingers, her thighs fighting to close around his head, her back arching just slightly, a whimpered noise pulling from her throat. Harry watches her with a keen eye because she’s just so fucking cute he could barely stand it, and keeps up the movement of his lips and fingers until she’s pushing his head away, “No more, no more,” she shakes her head, and Harry titters, lulling his tongue over his mouth, “I – fuck,”

Harry pushes a kiss that is maybe a little too tender to her hip, pulling back just enough so that he can flop the blankets over her lower half, “You’re sensitive,” he noted, “That’s cute. You look pretty when you cum too.”

“Shut up,” she frowns, “Am I better at cumming or dancing? Be honest.”

“You’re best at being a dummy.”

Harry retrieves a warm cloth for her to wipe her up, though Y/N takes it from his hand to do it herself without hesitation. She shivers, still slightly out of breath, and Harry feels a sense of pride bubble beneath his skin and his cock twitch absently in his boxers, “Did you mean it?” She inquired as Harry crawled back into bed, willing his stiffy away – he didn’t need to cum twice in a night, he hardly believed he deserved it. If Y/N weren’t asking to see it then he’d just think of wet parsley or something until it finally settled out, “About training me for it? Or was that just dirty talk?”

He turns to face her again and the way they resumed their positions, it looks like neither of them had left bed.

“If it’s something that you’re interested in,” he explained, “I’d be willing.”

She made a noise in her throat, “Okay,” she murmured, “Yeah, I think that would be fine. I’ve waited so long to lose it, I think I made it up in my head that it needed to be special, but virginity is a social construct made to make women feel impure when they aren’t. Why contribute to that?” She sighs, “Plus, I feel like as soon as someone finds out, they’ll cheat me out of a good time and expect me to believe that I shouldn’t enjoy the first time – I’ve heard horror stories about that. As obnoxious as you are, you’ve always been. . .adept at getting me worked up. I think it would be good, and beneficial for both of us.”

“What a very pragmatic approach,” Harry can’t help how his tone is filled with taunting mirth, “Feels like I’m speaking to a politician.”

“You know what, never mind, I’ll find someone else.” She huffed.

. . .

The rest of the trip was pleasant. On their last day on the trip, he and Y/N order breakfast from room service and are pleasantly surprised with the quality of it. Really, Harry is the one who orders the brekkie, because Y/N sleeps in relatively late he finds out when she’s got nowhere to be. There were several times he thought she had woken up, but she merely stirred for a couple of seconds and her breathing evened out again, so Harry just quietly pads about the room. He tries to get his suitcase somewhat reorganized for when they leave tomorrow morning, so he doesn’t have to rush around and do it all tonight (which Y/N will undoubtedly have to do).

When Y/N still wasn’t awake around 9 AM, he ordered them food. He remembers a few of the things Y/N likes to eat for breakfast, one of which includes french toast and this hotel in particular had a strawberries and creme flavor. With her perpetual sweet tooth, he thought she might enjoy it, so he gets her that and a smoothie and himself avocado toast. Once it arrives around 40 minutes later, he finally relents and wakes her up himself, “Oi,” he pats her shoulder first, then rubs it just a little, “Wake up, I got us food.”

“Mm?” Her face is stuffed into her pillow and halfway covered by the downy feather blanket tucked around her body. Y/N’s hand emerges, she pats around blindly for a little while then makes a disgruntled sound in the back of her throat, “Custard?” It’s muffled and a little warbly but Harry does make out the kitten’s name. He holds back a giggle, his hand still on her shoulder as he pats her again.

“Try again.” This encourages Y/N to pop her face from the blankets, her brows furrowed.

“You’re not small and furry.” She whined, but Harry only rolled his eyes.

“It’s time to eat, Lazy,” he waddles back over to the trays of food, plucking hers up from where he’d balanced it on the edge of the TV stand and bringing it back over to her, “Then you can go back to bed if you want.”

“What time is it?”

“20 minutes till 10.”

Her eyes widen, as much as they can still sleep swollen and puffy, and she presses herself up from the mattress, “Oh my god, why’d you let me sleep so long?”

“You were clearly tired –”

“You still hate me, I knew it,” she knuckled her eyes, sighing dramatically, “Adam is going to beat my ass, he wanted to go for a walk before sunrise.”

Harry scrunched his nose, “Oof, well you missed that by a long shot didn’t you?” Y/N glares at him, frowning, and he holds out her tray again, “Eat and then plead for his forgiveness. You can’t grovel on an empty tummy.”

Eating breakfast is an unintentionally domestic affair, when they’re both in their respective beds forking food into their mouths. Y/N is still clearly trying to become one with the world again, but her blinks are still slow and syrupy as she tries to reacclimate to being awake. Harry doesn’t try to start a conversation, just scrolls through his phone, but the silence isn’t the same stiff, tense air that used to hang between them. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Y/N’s phone starts vibrating and she digs around in the blankets before she finally finds it, sliding it open and pushing it on speaker so she can keep eating, “Hi traitor,” Adam’s voice rings through the speaker, “I enjoyed a refreshing, pre-sunrise walk alone, the weather was beautiful.”

“Adam, I got an alert that said it was 4°C (40°F), so I know you were freezing your ass off.”

He scoffs on the other end, “Well, maybe I was, but that doesn’t excuse the fact you abandoned me,” he breathes out a sigh, “I know you and Harry have finally worked it out halfway, whether that was by fucking like you’ve wanted to or –”

Y/N fumbles to grab for her phone, taking him off speaker with wild eyes as she shoves it against her ear, “Shut up!” She all but squeaks and Harry can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his chest, “Listen, I messaged you that I was sorry! I was going to buy you something good to eat for being such a good sport about it and not blowing my phone up, but now I’m unsure.” She glanced over in Harry’s direction, and her face immediately sours when he sees the shit eating-grin on his face, “God, you’ve got a loud mouth sometimes, d’ya know that?”

Once she got off the phone with him, Harry just can’t help himself, “You’ve talked about wanting to fuck me?”

“But you wanted to?” He is still smiling.

“What I want is to smother you with a pillow.”

“You’re obnoxious,” she groans, “I can’t tell if you hating me was better than you not.”

The rest of the day goes by somewhat in a blur – Adam, despite his previous whinging, had invited Y/N to try this Mediterranean place for lunch and told her to invite Harry too. Besides a few comments here and there, everyone has seemed to accept this merge of each other into one another’s life seamlessly. it was welcomed, even, and Harry wondered just how much everyone had suffered in the face of his anger and envy.

Their dynamic is still. . .different; they haven’t had the chance to truly flesh it out, Harry feels. They are in that middle ground of rivals warily stepping into a friendship, so he isn’t sure what his place is, especially among her friends. Mei isn’t there, so it’s a little better and he doesn’t feel like a fourth wheel, which is a little worse than feeling like a third wheel (having three people who are willing to ignore you in favor of each other as opposed to two is just a little shittier) but he doesn’t even feel like that.

Y/N, despite all the things he had found wrong with her in the first couple of months of knowing her, had a lot of good attributes too. One of which, he finds, is never letting another person feel left out. If there’s an inside joke Adam or she brings up at lunch, she’ll turn to explain it to him thoroughly so he’s in on the giggle (even if it isn’t that funny, he appreciates the sentiment). They discuss things that Y/N knew Harry had some knowledge of, from pop culture to their show the other night, to Christopher and Dasia’s neverending toxic romance. There’s still banter (just because he’s being kinder now, doesn’t mean his tongue has softened) but now when they go back and forth with each other, Adam isn’t looking at them both with horror written in his gaze.

Adam does eventually get his walk with Y/N, though it isn’t during sunrise, they amble through a little cobblestone part of the town with small shops with a variety of different themes from European spices to Gothic, whimsical witch stores. Thankfully the sun was out, warming them in the chilly weather. Harry could appreciate how Y/N looks in a thick jumper, with sleeves that fall over the palms of her hands, and arms wrapped tight around her body when a particularly cold breeze whistles past them. Harry’s fingers twitch at his sides – he wants to brush the hair from her face when the wind blows it into her eye, but he refrains. It’s the same itch he got when she was sick with a fever, and she’d fallen asleep with it covering her cheeks and over her nose. Harry thinks he must have brushed the hair from her face for about five minutes, even when the hair was no longer covering her – then he was just caressing her hairline tenderly.

And he really couldn’t do that without a slew of questions being thrown at him, so he just looked straight ahead again and tried to tune into the conversation.

There is something Harry can do with his hands now though – something that they discussed last night. Something that he’s sure will quell this odd, newly developed urge to brush the hair from her face, loop his fingers around her wrist, or hold her how he was able to during the show. Going from having his hands all over her hips and waist and legs all day, nearly every day practicing for the show to never having his hands on her at all. . .was sudden and slightly disconcerting. That must be the reason he’s feeling this pressing itch to have his hands on her all of the time – why for two nights in a row, all he wanted was to be snuggled between her thighs with his mouth on her.

All of this was so confusing, and a little overwhelming, and Harry wondered if these wants and feelings had always lingered within him but he’d refused to let them surface.

That didn’t matter though. What mattered, was after they had returned from running around all day with Adam (and eventually Niall, who complained that he hadn’t been invited out for lunch but was placated by them trying an “authentic Irish restaurant” for dinner), Harry had inquired if she wanted him to make her cum again. Y/N’s eyes nearly popped out of her head from how wide they grew.

“Do you get off on getting other people off?” She asks him, bewildered, “This will be the third night in a row, you’re really spoiling me.”

Harry feels his face heat up but refuses to let her know how embarrassed he is for being so desperate for it, “Well, I’ll only have myself to blame when you start acting like a spoiled brat then, won’t I?”

“Are you going to – are we starting like, you stretching me out and everything?” Y/N is kicking off her shoes, rolling her socks off her feet as she plops down on the hotel bed. Harry lounges across from her, one of his legs kicked up on the mattress as he leans into his pillows.

“You want my cock so bad, you think we need to get started right away?”

“You know what, stuff it, I’m not letting you tonight.”

Harry would have taken the loss since he never really did know when to shut his mouth, but after Y/N gets out of the shower (she “allowed” Harry to go first this time, since she did the night prior), she’s dropping down on his mattress and looking expectantly. Harry could have teased her about it, made her work for it, made her ask him instead of looking at him and assuming he’d connect the dots himself – but he didn’t think he should test her patience any more than he already had. He patted her calf and motioned for her to sit up higher on the bed, leaning against his pillows, and while he didn’t make her request it verbally, he did playfully murmur, “I knew you’d change your mind.”

“I’ll change it back just as fast.”

Before she could do that, Harry slid his hand over her right thigh, his palm flattened against the inside and he squeezed gently and then moved to hook them in the waistband of her bottoms, “Mm, how many have I put in you, huh? Just one so far right?”

She shakes her head quickly, “No, I’ve had two before! The first time – when you. . .over the barre.”

“Oh, when I finger fucked you over the barre?” He wriggles the fabric down her thighs, over her knees, and down her legs. Harry shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of underwear, but for some reason he still is – she must have forgone them, knowing she was going to ask him to go through with it. Her pussy is still so pretty to him; a feast for his gaze, all swollen and wet, like she’d been working herself up in the shower. Harry’s mouth waters like he’s been Pavlov'd into the response every time he looks between her thighs. Distantly he heard her complain about him being vulgar but he can’t really focus on it.

Harry leans forward and spits over her slit, reveling in the sharp gasp she sucks into her chest. The saliva drips down over her clit, swollen and begging for attention, so Harry meets it with the pad of his thumb and rolls over it in tight circles. Her thighs twitch but he uses his free hand to keep her pressed open, shushing her when she makes a little noise in her throat, that sounds awfully close to a complaint, “No whining,” he chastises but there’s not much strength behind it, “You should take what you’re given gratefully. . .or are you still a rude little brat you don’t know how to do that?”

He’s testing the waters – his gaze flickers up to her, reading her expression. If she seemed even a little put off by it he would back down, be more tender with her, and more careful with his words. But Y/N, as he recalls, loved the teasing even when they didn’t really like each other. Harry remembered how she squeezed his fingers tightly any time he taunted her, threatened to leave her wet and needy.

And she seems to like it now when her perfect pussy clenches in front of him, beckoning his attention and expressing her wants, though her face is pouted, “Please?” She tried, instead of her usual tactic of telling him to shut the fuck up or reminding him that he’s mean. Harry doesn’t know if it was strategic or not, but it does yank at his heart slightly and presses him into action.

It’s like she sucks his finger in when he slides his index down knuckle deep inside of her. Y/N squeezes and pulses around him like it's the first time anything has been inside of her; her walls feel like they’re inspecting the intrusion, accommodating it, coaxing it deeper so it strokes against the bundle of nerves inside of her. The moan that leaves her is high and needy, her legs falling out wider for him while he watches the rim squeeze and tighten around the base. Harry has to check his own desperation – what he’d give to push the head of his cock inside of her – just the tip, letting her warm him.

But the tip would lead him to sink his hips in, down to his balls, to feel the sticky, wet cling of her juices against the tender skin. God, he’s so excited about it he could almost bust in his pants. It’s hard to be patient and when Harry’s horny, he’s horny right then, he wants to get it taken care of. Of course, he’ll put in as much effort as he can to make sure his partner is pleased as well, but his goal next to that is to cum. And right then, when he curls his finger up and presses right into the spot that has her sucking in a sharp breath and rocking her hips down, his bloated cock twitches again. A blurt of precum wets the fabric of his briefs – by the end of this, he’ll probably be just as wet, messy, and desperate as she is.

He would be patient though – he wasn’t going to rush this. Y/N deserves patience from him, after so long of her not even getting a fraction of his tolerance before, he wants to make this good for her. Though it isn’t something Y/N considers special, he knows a shoddy first time could ruin the outlook on sex entirely, and he refuses to give her a shitty first fuck.

This helps too, with working out all the unresolved tension that still lingers between them sometimes. It isn’t the hatred, anger, or envy. . .it was something else entirely. Something that Harry hadn’t really felt routinely until all of that was stripped away – what made him finger fuck her over the barre, what made Niall beg and plead for them to just fuck their emotions out and get it over with. Something that manifests in the air with them, when Harry’s drinking up her body with his gaze, wondering how he could lash her with such horrible words when she’s so cute like this.

Her hand is at her mouth, her knuckle nestled between her teeth but it does little to filter out the sounds she’s making so he doesn’t chastise her for it. The lips around them should be pretty and swollen from his kissing, he thinks, but maybe he’ll explore that later. Nip and bite and suckle until they’re slick with his spit and filled up with blood beneath the sensitive skin, making them brighter, and pinker.

Harry started to move his finger, rubbing loosely now over her clit and leaning forward. He wonders if it looks as desperate as it feels when he bends down to take her nipple into his mouth through the fabric of her shirt. The cloth immediately dampens from his saliva and Y/N’s moaning a sound so lewd and wanton he thinks he could have cum in his pants if he were pushing up against the mattress. Her nipples had already pebbled beneath her clothes so that’s how he could easily spot them, pulling it into his mouth and running his teeth over them, biting down. He could be a little rougher because there was a barrier between them, and finally, Y/N’s hands came to meet him at some capacity. The fingers of her left-hand thread through his hair, squeezing tight near the scalp, and her other hand meets his shoulder blade, her fingertips pinching down into the lean muscle.

He’s much closer to the source of her moaning and whimpering, so he even picks up on the little sounds that barely escape her throat. Harry balances himself on his knees, his legs are snuggled around her waist but her thighs lay over his so he can keep his finger inside of her. Her own knees are pulled closer to her chest, feet dangling in the air on either side of him – Harry isn’t even into feet, but he wants to bite at her ankles and make her squeal.

As he swaps from one nipple to the other, Harry cradles the other with his free hand, withdraws his finger, and slips a second inside. The fit is tight; Y/N’s moan and rut of her hips say she wants it but the way her cunt squeezes and pulses, he could tell it felt like too much, “Let me do the work,” he popped off of her chest to chastise her gently when she was trying to fuck herself down further, “Fuck, you gotta relax baby, or I’ll never be able to stretch you out.”

“It just feels so good,” she mewled, a pout deep in her mouth and her hands hovering just outside of it – Y/N looks positively fucked out from one-and-a-half fingers inside of her. Harry is enamored by the blown look of her pupils, the muss of her hair, and her lips looking a little too normal. And that was enough to drive him to kiss her.

At first, it’s just a peck, then he nudges his nose against hers, “I know baby,” he soothes, “Let me in, hm? It’ll feel even better.”

It takes some time, and the smooth glide of their mouths together, before Harry finally feels her walls give. He sinks his second finger inside and as her reward, immediately curls them both into the nerves. Y/N sighed into his mouth once he bottomed out, then keens at the steady press to her G-spot – he could tell she wanted to wrap both her legs around him but she could only hook around his left side, while the right was impeded by the arm doing all the work.

“Good girl,” he praised her and she all but melted through a whimper, while his fingers twisted and stretched around inside of her – she was so wet, his fingers squelched around as he moved inside, and he swears he could feel her getting wetter, drenching him, “Oh, you liked that didn’t you?” He murmured, and she nodded, but still had sense enough to look shy about it, “Hmm, poor Y/N, you just wanna be praised all day don’t you? While we’re all working hard practicing, are you trying so hard to get compliments so you can get this filthy pussy wet?”

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head, opening her mouth to protest but when Harry’s thumb speeds up around her clit, a broken-off moan rattles through her, “Yeah, I bet,” he continued, while she bucks her hips down on him and he doesn’t stop her this time, “Probably leave fucking drenched ‘cos the instructors telling you how good you are, hm? And all our classmates? I can only imagine the state of your panties afterward.”

“I’m not –” she breathes out, “I’m not a pervert! I don’t – I know how to keep a hold of myself.”

“Who said anything about that, hm? You can’t help what you like to hear,” he raises back up and spits over her again, the sound of his fingers fucking into her is much much sloppier and he contemplates adding a third now that she’s finally eased up around him. When he lets his ring finger dance along the entrance, Y/N’s eyes widen, “You think you could fit another?”

“I think – I think so,” she nodded, “I’ll definitely cum if you do.”

Harry squeezes in a third, rocking his fingers back and forth as he wiggles it inside beside the other two. He flips up her pajama shirt and reveals her swollen nipples, still pert from the previous attention. Harry holds his other hand out to her mouth and instructs her to lick, so she does. She rolls her pink tongue over the pads, down the knuckle – Harry thinks if he sunk these fingers into her mouth she’d be perfectly content having both her holes filled. She’d look so cute, he thinks, and the thought of her being content and full and warm makes his heart flutter. It’s something he’d have to explore later.

He uses these wet fingers to pinch, pull, and play with her tits while he spreads out his three fingers the most he can. But she gobbles him up and sucks him in – the squeeze is tight but she wants it so badly, Harry thinks if he stopped moving his fingers she would do all the work trying to fuck herself down onto him (not without some complaining, but it sounds pretty while she moans).

Harry can tell – he can feel it before she cums. The pulsations around his fingers get more frequent and the leg hooked around his right hip tightens, and she’s simultaneously trying to roll her hips closer to him, then away, “Harry,” she breathes out, her hand grips his forearm, and he wondered if she could feel the muscles shift as he continues his ministrations, “Please, please, please.”

“See, if I knew you begged as pretty as this, maybe I would’ve gotten my head out of my ass sooner, hm?” He looks down where they meet, then back at Y/N, who watches him through lidded eyes threatening to close, “God, I want to fucking taste you again, my mouth is watering so badly.”

Apparently, this is all she needed to be sent over the edge. Her moans grow louder, she tries to muffle them against her palm but Harry pulls it away and replaces it with his mouth. They can’t be too loud – their walls are paper thin, and he isn’t necessarily interested in getting a noise complaint – so he swallows these pretty little noises, deep and warm in his belly. Her body draws up tight, quivering and shaking, and she’s useless trying to kiss right now, her lips slow, meeting him and then parting her lips to suck in air and mewl. Harry’s cock is leaking so much in his pants he’s sure there’s a huge spot on his briefs now – he’s drippy and wet, and the thought of his cock replacing his fingers is almost enough to make him nearly cum untouched.

She gets wetter around his fingers, she trembles around him as he presses kisses to her mouth, wanting to pepper them all over her face but refraining. Harry works her through it, as long as it seems, only slowing down when all the tension oozes from her muscles, her thighs twitch and the hand holding his wrist loosens. He thinks she could probably melt through the mattress if he let her.

Harry is glad to have gotten her off – he was going to run and take care of his own problem after he cleaned her up, but when he even made the effort to move, Y/N’s other leg finally looped around his waist and she held him in place. She whined again, this time more in protest than pleasure, “Don’t leave,” she frowned at him, “Want to see you do it.”

He blinked a couple of times, her words sinking in, and Harry decided it wasn’t worth it to waste time. He reaches into his pants and briefs and pulls out his cock. When he lets go of it for a second, it slaps up against his tummy, hard and dripping, the tip a swollen red from being neglected. Harry hisses when he gets a hand around his cock – the same one covered in his spit and her juices and pumps himself at a relatively quick pace to start. Y/N seems entranced, or she’s just still sleepy from her own orgasm, but she watches intently and keeps him locked between her legs tightly.

Harry came, sticky and wet, shot after shot that collided with her belly and drools over his knuckles. He groaned low in his throat, it rumbled through his chest, and when his eyes (that he’d not realized had closed) fluttered open, Y/N was still looking at him.

“You always cum so much,” she remarked, rolling the pads of her fingers through the puddles and stripes on her belly, “You must be really pent up.”

“Says the virgin.”

The foot that was nestled against his lower back, lifts up and kicks him. Harry grunts and falls forward a bit, “Jesus,” he sighed, “You’re so rough with me.”

By the time they are both cleaned up (Harry has to strip the loose sheet off his bed, which makes him smile but Y/N whines about being embarrassed), they’re in their respective beds. Harry had never realized how much of a cuddler post-sex he was until it didn’t necessarily feel like an option. He knew that he and Y/N had snuggled up close together before, but it was different to initiate it when they were both awake.

So instead, he just holds his pillow close to his body, spooning that rather than the warm body he has vague memories of cuddling close with the night before their show.

It isn’t as good.

. . .

Autumn mornings are always nice; the smell in the air is something Harry couldn’t quite compare to anything else other than fall. The air is crisp, biting at his cheeks and flushing them pink, whipping his hair around with each gust of wind that brings promises of chillier weather. Harry thinks jogging during this time of year is always quite calming, especially when he’s up just before the sun and the sky is a gentle hazy glow. He usually has his headphones in but if he doesn’t, then the only sounds are the tap of his feet against the pavement, his breathing, the birds that haven’t fled for the winter yet.

Harry feels content on mornings like these, and they are typically essential to decompressing before they start practicing for the winter showcase. He goes between jogging and walking for about three kilometers, in one large loop around the dorm, through a trail at a park nearby, and since he passes by the cafe near the dorm he usually stops in. However, today, instead of stopping by the cafe he realizes that he’s about to pass by the bakery Y/N briefly mentioned the other day.

And usually, Harry runs right past it. Doesn’t even think twice about what they might have in there actually, because he’s forced himself into the mindset that sweets should be reserved for special occasions. Treats are treats because they aren’t often – they’re something out of the ordinary that can bring someone joy. If you have them all the time, then they aren’t treats anymore, they’re just a precursor to a dentist seat and multiple fillings in different teeth. He’d done his fair share of dealing in refined sugars while they were out of town, so he’d been planning on doing some form of cleanse to reboot his body and hopefully reduce any bloat or general heaviness he might feel otherwise.

So why was he slowing to a stop in front of the bakery door? Harry really didn’t have a good answer, as he fits his hand around the knob and tugs it open, the bells hanging on the handle clinking together brightly. It’s still early enough that he’s certain only one person is there right now, working hard to get fresh pieces of bread, muffins, and croissants on the warming trays in the glass display cases. The smell alone is enough to make his mouth water; maybe he would get a little something. Technically, he hadn’t started his cleanse at full force yet – he could still afford to get something warm and apple-y. Maybe he would even try his hand at being nice and get Y//N something too, she would like that.

Because now that there isn’t a reason to see her every day, Harry is having trouble coming up with one without feeling like he’s trying too hard or being annoying. Harry isn’t trying to be a dick about it, it just takes a lot for him to come out and ask someone to spend time with him – even with Niall, who he’s known forever, Harry prefers that he make the first move in the request. He’s sure it says something about him and a fear of rejection or whatever, but he’s never taken the time to psychoanalyze himself over it, so he doesn’t. And nobody had really forced himself to either – Niall always makes the first suggestion, and eventually, others figured out that was how they could become friends with Harry. If they extended a hand, typically he would take it.

(Unless you were some random ballet prodigy who started on a whim and he didn’t know how to deal with the realization he wasn’t truly the best in the class anymore, then he’d bite the hand.)

Y/N isn’t doing that though – he thinks Y/N is waiting for him to come to her, and he doesn’t blame her. Why should she want to exert any effort in their friendship when the first time she tried, she’d been graced with months and months' worth of verbal attacks and passive-aggressive tendencies? Harry wouldn’t want to try again either, so he understood where she was coming from, probably more than she would realize. And since this is such a unique situation for them, and one Harry had never really experienced before, he figured that he could at least make an attempt. He would be nonchalant about it, to not make it weird – he’d scan the danishes, pick one that seemed suitable to her taste, then stop it by her dorm. Or. . .no, maybe he would just bring it to their studio today and she could eat it during their break. Would that be too much? He really isn’t in the mood for the rumors, so maybe he should get Niall something too.

“Good morning!” A voice, all too bright and chipper for Harry’s dilemma, rings through the small bakery. Harry is affronted with Felix, the one with the nice smile and the smattering of freckles over his cheeks – the guy who Y/N was apparently close enough with that he could go to her dorm without her being there. It was no secret that this guy was sweet, and at first, Harry was overwhelmingly suspicious about it. A sweet baker was a little too cliche and raised all sorts of red flags to him when he’d first come here with Niall. He was certain he was probably a stalker, or a killer of some sort until he was walking by an alleyway and saw him filling a small tin of food for a couple of stray cats that were meowing at his feet. And then again, when he watched him handing out extra food from the bakery to a homeless shelter a couple of blocks away.

Felix was genuinely kind, he could see why Y/N would trust him with Custard, and for some reason that makes a hot and itchy feeling fizzle beneath his skin. One that he’d felt when Y/N brought him up the first time, that is unearthing itself again long since Harry had snuffed out the flame a couple of hours afterward when he was wondering why he hadn’t been graced with freckles.

Charming Felix, with his charming voice, and his charming pink mouth and pretty smile – if Y/N had a crush on him, Harry would get it. Why did even give a fuck about that though? Y/N hadn’t even given any indication that she could have feelings for him like that, but. . .Harry could just see it! Why wouldn’t Y/N have soft, tender feelings for this guy? Why wouldn’t Y/N want him to take her virginity, why was she asking Harry?

“What can I get you today?” Felix seems undeterred by the furrow Harry knew was on his brows, wiping flour off his hands with an orange rag, “I just took some pumpkin bread out of the oven, if you’re interested.” His smile is bright and Harry is feeling very inadequate and lackluster in comparison – what a horrible idea to come in here! He isn’t used to feeling anything less than confident, normally, and when he does his knee-jerk reaction is to be an asshole.

But where did that get him before? Absolutely nowhere.

So he clears his throat, and tries to soothe the irritation from his brows, “Um, yeah, I’ll take that then,” he replied, “I’ll take the whole loaf.”

And maybe Harry has to jog the rest of the way home with a loaf of pumpkin bread and the companion frosting in his arms – maybe it is inconvenient, and he’s wondering how he’s supposed to present this to Y/N. He tries not to overthink it too much, but maybe he should have, because now he’s standing at Y/N’s door, half past six in the morning waiting for her to open the door. She should be awake because their studio time starts in just a little over an hour, but Harry started getting nervous, thinking maybe it would have been wise to message her beforehand. Even if it was a kind gesture, who wants to be pulled from sleep for pumpkin bread?

The door opens, just a crack at first until Y/N realizes who it is, and then her shoulders sink as she relaxes, “Oh thank god,” she brushed the hair from her face, “I thought you were a killer or something.”

“So you opened the door?” He pressed, but Y/N didn’t bother replying to him. Instead, she blinks, points at the loaf in his hand and her head tilted to the side just a little bit. Harry holds it out for her, “This is for you.”

Her brows raise, “For me?”

“Yes,” he agreed, “I was on a run and stopped by the bakery – he said that he made too much, so he gave it to me for free.” It was a lie, Harry actually spent close to fifteen on it but he wouldn’t tell her that. He doesn’t know why he felt like he needed to lie about it – honestly, he doesn’t know why he feels so giddy about seeing her either. If this was the trade-off from blindly hating her, then he wasn’t sure if he liked this much at all; his palms felt sweaty, and he felt slightly out of his body when a smile grew over her mouth.

“Thank you,” she held her hands out to receive it, “But aren’t you always the one talking about how refined sugar is the devil?”

Harry’s face almost immediately sours, and he reaffirmed his grip on the box, “You know what, maybe I’ll give it to Niall –”

“No!” She rushed, plucking it from his hands and shaking her head, “Nooo, come on, I was just teasing! Thank you, thank you,” she took it from his hands, “I’m – do you want to come in and we can eat some together? Custard says she misses you.”

Harry pauses – he should really go get ready for their class, but. . .well, he doesn’t think a couple of minutes would hurt, right

. . .

“Hmm, maybe I was right before,” Harry sighs, “We’re all working hard in class, and you’re just getting wet over being praised. It’s kind of filthy of you, isn’t it?”

Harry is quick to find that being friends with Y/N is kind of like a trade-off. Since he’d extended his hand first, Y/N was the second to do it, so after they had eaten pumpkin bread together she asked him if he’d be willing to go to a haunted house. At first, he thinks she’s going to use Adam and Mei as an excuse – she opens up the offer by saying they’re both pleased that she and Harry had sorted out their differences well enough to spend time together because they all wanted to hang out as a group. Mei, Niall, Adam, Harry, and Y/N as a unit rather than this disjointed, fragmented friendship because the two of them hated each other’s guts (and Harry feels a gnawing guilt again, that it was his fault they couldn’t all coexist happily together).

Harry probably would have left it there, if it was him – he wouldn’t have added the part where he admits that he wanted to hang out with her too, but Y/N doesn’t omit the fact.

“I think it’s nice that we can hang out now without wanting to kill each other,” she tells him, “Plus, I have more fun with you than I thought I’d be able to! You always came off as some stiff, prude-ish asshole, but you’re a way better time than that.”

The compliment is a little backhanded but Harry couldn’t blame her for it – he did come off as a stiff, prude-ish asshole, even to his closest friends, so he can only imagine how Y/N must have felt. Even so, the warmth that bubbles beneath his bones when she says she has fun with him, is something that Harry can’t be arsed to explore. Not right then, at least, when he was trying to keep his cheeks from turning pink.

She’d asked him at the beginning of practice, so by the end of it, she was suggesting that they walk back to their dorms together and discuss the details that she had already talked about with the others. Harry isn’t necessarily sure why they needed to do it on the way to their dorm when Niall could fill him in later, but he didn’t question it too much either – he and Y/N lived closest to each other anyway. It made sense for them to walk home together sometimes, and if Y/N was the one planning it, it’d be better to get information out of her rather than Niall, who was always just slightly wrong about most plans.

Y/N had done well in practice, for this to be her first time learning the material for this showcase, but Harry expected nothing less. Still, she’s practically run over with praise from their instructors, from their peers, and even from Harry – he doesn’t overdo it, just tells her that her relevés were well done, but Y/N still bristles from them. Honestly, Harry probably wouldn’t have even realized she was worked up if not for the way she grabs his wrist when he’s about to leave down the hallway to his room. Then she levels him with a look – one that’s asking a lot without her saying a lot, and if Harry were just a little bit nicer, then he would fill in the blanks for her.

But, at the end of the day, Harry is a newly refined asshole. Some prick-ish tendencies don’t evaporate overnight.

“Hm? What is it?”

Y/N noticeably swallows thickly, her hand falling from his wrist but she still stands close to him, “I was wondering if maybe we could. . .you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

Her face scrunched at him, frustration evident, “Yes you do,” she grumbled at him, “We haven’t since we’ve gotten back. How are we supposed to train me to take it, if we take such long breaks?”

So that’s how they ended up here – Harry had pressed her inside his dorm and ushered her toward his bed. Y/N was wearing jeans today, much to his displeasure, because it takes a way longer time to wriggle her out of those than it would the sweatpants she usually has on, but he deals. It was easy to fall back into this, even with the small, unintentional break they had taken – he’d briefly worried that maybe this was something that would never get mentioned again and Harry would be stuck touching himself to the old memories of her moaning. He’s lucky if he gets through a full day without thinking about it and his cock threatening to twitch, but he didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. Harry wanted to go at her pace, for the most part – he didn’t want to come off as pushy or as a pervert.

But it seems like he hasn’t been the only one thinking about it. Harry splits Y/N’s thighs once her jeans are off and the damp spot over the fabric is enough to make his head spin. She doesn’t seem shy about it – not even when Harry drags the pads of his fingers over the wet cotton and tuts his tongue, We’re all working hard in class, and you’re just getting wet over being praised. It’s kind of filthy of you, isn’t it?

Y/N pouted at him, her lip wet and plump, and Harry wanted to dig his teeth into it and pull, “I can take four, this time,” she told him, “I tried by myself, but it doesn’t – my fingers aren’t as big. And it doesn’t feel as good.”

If any more blood flooded to Harry’s cock, he was sure he’d be dizzy from it. He takes a slow, deep breath, tucking his fingers into the band and pulling the underwear to the side. Just as pretty, swollen, and wet as she looked before, her pussy drools for him, and Harry couldn’t waste his time teasing her. Not when she had admitted to him she’d tried to make herself feel good on her own fingers, only to realize that Harry’s felt better. He imagined her writhing in bed, needy and unsatisfied, wanting him. Maybe she’d been too nervous to message and ask him to come over and help that night – so she just waited, however long it was that it took her to gather the courage to ask him. Had she even been able to cum that night? Or had she gotten frustrated and given up?

Harry doesn’t know at first, but from the sound and face that she makes when he sinks two fingers in, he could gather that the latter had been right. Y/N’s legs fell open and out to the side, making more room for him, “There we go,” he purred, his freehand pressed against the sensitive inside of her left thigh, “You need to let me know when this poor needy pussy wants attention, hm? How was I supposed to know you still wanted my help?”

“I thought you would just know,” she frowned at him, “Or – I thought at least you would ask me or something. Or schedule a day that we could – ah – that you would stretch me out.”

He hums, curling his fingers up and steadily petting at the soft spot of nerves inside of her, “And why do I have to do all the work, Sweetheart? Shouldn’t you meet me halfway? I am the one who suggested it last time – isn’t it a little selfish to expect me to come to you each time?”

Y/N looks like she wants to respond – there are probably plenty of things she could say or things that she could call him (a hypocrite, namely), but he leans forward and drools over her clit before she could get a word out. She swallows his fingers up when he slides a third one in, and while the fit is still tight he can feel her walls give way to him, stretching and accommodating them. Her hips are rocking down into his and she’s squeezing and milking around him, “Are you g’na cum already?” He cooed, though it came out more taunting, “But we haven’t even gotten to four fingers. This really is a greedy pussy.”

“Not greedy,” she whines, hiding her face in her palms – it’s cute, how worked up she gets. Were all virgins like this? Harry took his rule to heart, really, so he wondered if the intense flood of arousal and the amount she was leaking around his fingers was because of that. Or maybe this was just something specific to Y/N – either way, his cock feels so hard he could cut glass with it, as he slips in the fourth finger. This one is a bit harder than the third – it takes a little more time and he has to remind her to relax for him.

“Take a deep breath with me,” he instructs her, “Then sort of push like you’re trying to push me out, hm? I think that’ll open you up more for me.” It does – Harry’s able to squeeze his fourth finger inside of her, and he presses kisses down her thighs and all over her hips, singing praises to her that make her pulsate and clench around him, “Look at that,” he murmurs, “You’re doing so good, opening up for me,” Harry pauses over her clit, he debates it for all of a millisecond before he leans down and smears his mouth over it, pushing a sucking kiss to the throbbing button. She mewls when he pops off, fluttering his tongue over it, “You wanna cum?”

Y/N nodded, her hips rolling down on his fingers. They hadn’t necessarily discussed Harry controlling whether or not she came in any capacity, but even asking the question makes goosebumps dot down his spine. Like no matter what she said, he could tell her no if he wanted to. Could pull his fingers out and let her hump at the air, letting the orgasm dissolve and crumble right in front of her.

That’s something to explore for a different night, he thinks.

She muffles herself when she cums, and while he hates it, he doesn’t blame her – the walls are paper thin and a noise complaint wasn’t ideal. But even partially muted by her shirt, she sounds so pretty, and her thighs twitch and close around his hand, trapping it between them as he finished fucking her through it. Harry still feels a little dizzy from the speed at which all the blood rushed to his cock, but he ignores it – he’d probably fuck his palm raw to this later anyway. Right now, Y/N is looking just a little too cute to resist teasing, as he slides his fingers from her, watching her small hole gape around nothing.

Y/N is breathless, wiping the hair from her face, “Am I best at cumming or dancing? Make sure to answer honestly.”

“You’re best at getting on my nerves,” he pats her thighs, “Who would have thought you were such a lewd little thing? Demanding my fingers right after practice.”

Y/N closes her legs, but the movement is slow, like her bones are jelly, “Shut up,” she muttered, in the middle of catching her breath, “You’re so confusing. You practically were jumping my bones every night while we were away and then you just stopped as soon as we came back, I didn’t know if you still wanted to or not. I had to at least try.”

Harry ignores his intrusive thoughts telling him to push a kiss to her knee, “Sorry for making you wait,” he tells her, then looks down between her legs, “Sorry for making you wait too.”

“Ew, enough! Don’t talk to her like she’s real.”

Harry chuckles before standing up from the bed, pulling the blanket at the bottom of his mattress up over her bare legs so she wouldn’t feel so bare to the world, “What are you eating for dinner tonight?”

“I dunno, I haven’t thought that far into the night yet,” Y/N answered, accepting the blanket and pulling it over her hips, “Maybe a frozen meal or something?”

“Those are awful for you,” Harry immediately rejects the idea, “I’m making stuffed peppers, and the recipe always makes more than I can finish off. You’ll just take some with you, yeah?”

. . .

Harry’s idea of fun isn’t necessarily paying money to be scared out of his mind but he enjoys the haunted house more than he had originally imagined he would. It was a pretty big one, with different houses and themes, from killer clowns and hillbillies to asylums and creature feature monsters in big suits. The entire run time was about an hour and that wasn’t including wait times, so since most of it was outside, Harry had dressed himself in a thicker sweatshirt and jeans with no holes (a surprisingly hard feat for him). Even then, the wind still assaults his cheeks with each freezing gust.

Niall and Harry show up together in one car, while Mei, Adam, and Y/N show up in the other. Harry wondered how they would split up among each other so that one person wouldn’t end up walking alone, but for the most part, they seemed to move as just one, massive group together, with one person in the middle (usually Niall but sometimes Adam) and two people to the front and back of them. Harry got to walk with Y/N for most of the night, and for that, he was happy – mostly because she talked all big about how she wasn’t going to be scared, only for her to be screaming and yelping the loudest.

Just before the asylum attraction, in about a fifteen-minute wait to be let into the fake hospital, Y/N had pressed herself up to his body, shivering, and he doesn’t even think she realizes how close she is to him when she speaks, “It’s so fucking cold,” her teeth were nearly chattering.

Harry did a sweep over her outfit (or as much as he could in the low lighting – it was pretty dark apart from some pumpkin lanterns strung up above them), the thin jacket that she wore over even thinner long sleeves – maybe her saving grace could have been the knitted pants she had on, but even they looked like there wasn’t much material there – and he was kissing his teeth, “You should have worn warmer clothes,” he chided her, “You’ll be lucky if your muscles aren’t still stiff by practice on Monday.”

She frowns at him, but her innate desire for survival outweighs whatever pride might make her seek warmth elsewhere. Y/N stays close to him – maybe even pushes herself closer to him, so a sheet of paper could barely fit between them if they had tried. Eventually, Harry leans back into her, and for even a second he regrets not wearing a thick jacket so he could just unzip it and have her hug around his body. All he can offer is the holes of his sleeves, letting her slip her icy cold fingers in with his arms, and biting back a squawk when she touches his skin.

“Consider this a part of your groveling fee,” Y/N shuddered to him, and he thought if he had offered for her to duck up into his sweatshirt, she would have.

Harry has fun, screaming and jumping and “accidentally” knocking Y/N into the fake bodies hanging from the ceiling. Sometimes Y/N ends up near Mei or Adam for a little while in the dark but she eventually finds her way to him again. He kind of likes it when she hides her face into his chest too, like he is going to protect her from all the scary creatures in the dark, even though his eyes were also squeezed shut just as tightly.

By the time they finish, Harry is still chilled to the bone and his cheeks feel sore from how much he’s been grinning and laughing in spite of his fear. Y/N’s hair is a mess on her head from walking through curtains and slamming into the decorations and fixtures in each attraction, but she’s also smiling, giggling at the sounds she made that Adam does a suspiciously good job at mimicking.

Afterward, they decide they’ll go out for food. Almost everything is closed because it’s just about 11 PM (and Harry is regretting scheduling his morning beginners ballet class at 9 AM) so the choices are limited to a McDonald's and a 24-hour diner. Since Mei wanted a full breakfast platter this late at night, they chose the diner, but it was a cute spot nearby in a relatively safe part of town so nobody minded.

They had just ordered (Y/N was eyeballing Harry when she added a shake to her order and then seemed more than pleased when he didn’t launch into one of his sermons about artificial sweeteners) when someone called Y/N’s name from the door. She perks up from where she’s sitting to Harry’s right at the end of the table, head-turning and her face lighting up like she’d just seen a puppy, tail wagging and panting waiting for her.

It’s just Felix though – pretty, baker boy Felix that Harry has entirely too mixed feelings about. What he could be doing at a diner this late at night alone, Harry didn’t know, but what he did know is that Y/N had all but launched out of her seat to go greet him. He’s wearing a big cardigan that slouches over his frame and manages to make him look cuter than he already is, and Harry feels that same itch and pimple that is stuffed just beneath his epidermis. It feels like when someone mentions a product and then all of a sudden, every ad on his phone is about a cordless vacuum suitable for the toughest pet hair – Y/N mentions Felix once, and now it feels like he might as well be seeing this guy routinely.

The first time is definitely his fault since Harry stopped by the bakery himself, but Harry has seen him out and about too. At the store, at the cafe near their dorm, and once in the library when Harry was looking for a book (one strictly on classical conditioning for an assignment Harry could not be more unmotivated to complete) – there he is, being and looking sweet, and probably perfect for Y/N. He can’t help but wonder miserably if she’s ever seemed that excited when Harry has shown up somewhere unexpectedly for her – he thinks back to when he stopped by with the pumpkin bread and the first face he’d seen was distraught confusion.

Harry felt a pinch on his thigh, and his head turned to Niall, “Don’t be jealous,” he ordered him, and his voice was nowhere near quiet enough for Adam and Mei not to hear him, “I can see your brain working.”

Was Harry jealous? He guesses he was but he isn’t certain what for. Y/N has given no indication that she likes Felix, Harry had kind of just assumed that she did because how couldn’t she? And when he compares himself with the guy, Harry definitely knows he doesn’t even come close; the better pick would be the person who didn’t irrationally hate her for months because she was good at something naturally. The one who indulged her love for sweets rather than scolded her for eating unhealthy because it would leave her tired and affect her dancing.

“Guys, Felix is going to eat with us,” Y/N is tugging him by the wrist to their table, dropping him in the empty spot across from her and Harry, right beside Adam/

“Only if that’s okay,” he smiled politely, raising his hand, “Hello. I saw you all at your showcase the other week, and you were incredible,” he looked around the table, eyes landing on Harry, “You were really good! I’d always thought Y/N was the best dancer that I’d ever met, but I couldn’t take my eyes off either of you.”

Hell, whoever said flattery gets you nowhere is a filthy liar.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens and Harry doesn’t make an ass of himself, thankfully. He makes more of an effort to control his facial features since Niall has so easily been able to guess what is going on in his head, and nobody (Y/N and Felix) seems to notice anything. Which is good – Harry doesn’t even know how to put into words what he’s feeling, so if he was questioned, he’d surely fumble through a response and make a fool of himself. Felix melts into their conversation easily, as if he’d been with them the whole night, but he admits that he can’t handle anything scary so he wouldn’t have been a good fit for the adventure.

“Harry could have protected us both,” Y/N assured him, “He was very brave, even with the clowns.”

She nudged him with her shoulder, and Harry’s mind went fuzzy and warm. God, he’s really done for, isn’t he? To get giddy over a comment like that.

When they all part ways, Niall drops him and Y/N off at their dorms. Harry had expected the night to end there, really, because it was late and he really does have to work in the morning, but Y/N tells him that she has something to show him. Harry narrowed his eyes at her, “Something to show me? At 12 AM?” He inquired, “It better be Custard in a pumpkin outfit.”

Her face falls, as she punches in the key for her door, unlocking it with a schlick, “Well, now I wish it was.”

Custard, pumpkin outfit-less, does toddle her way over to Harry when he comes in and plops down on Y/N’s bed. He picks her up by the belly, her fur soft between his fingers as he cradles her to his chest and pets between her ears. She purrs like a motor, rubbing her head against his shirt intensely, nuzzling and snuggling closer to him, and Harry feels content almost immediately. What a sweet little kitty – a couple of months ago Harry would have wondered how something so adorable would want anything to do with a brat like Y/N. But now, when this little kitten presses up against him and nuzzles, it feels all too similar to how Y/N had been seeking his warmth just a couple of hours ago. It makes him feel tender all the same.

While Y/N disappears, her top half in her closet, Harry plays with Custard until she toddles off toward the bathroom. Y/N emerges from the closet with a box in her hand, rolling down onto her bum and spinning around to face him, balancing with only one hand, “Don’t make fun of me,” she says preemptively, and Harry lets out a heavy, slow sigh.

“You know that just makes me want to.”

She frowns at him, but sits up and walks on her knees toward him, holding it out, “I got this to practice since I’m so good at taking your fingers.”

That does make him blink his eyes open, mouth dropping open slightly while her words register to him, “Oh?” The box itself is inconspicuous; discreet in a way he figured Y/N would probably search for in a place where their boxes are delivered to a front desk. Harry unhooks the cardboard tab from the box, sliding it open to reveal a dildo. It’s an average size – smaller than him still, but bigger than his fingers, and a fleshy color with a pink head. The silicone is ridged with texture, fake veins running beneath it – Harry is impressed by the amount of detail that has gone into it. He’s got a few toys for himself, but he’s usually aiming for prostate massages more than fake pricks.

“Oh, wow,” he marveled at it, picking it up from where it sat nestled on purple crinkled paper shreddings, “You struck me more as a pretty, pink, sparkly kind of girl.”

Y/N is still frowning at him, and he thinks she’s about to criticize him for making the assumption but instead, she says despondently, “They were sold out of the pink and purple sparkly ones. It was either this or like, a camo one, and I just. . .I just don’t understand that.” She leans back so her bum is resting on her heels, “Shouldn’t it be pretty if it’s going inside of you?”

Harry holds it out to her, tilting it down, “What are you showing me this for, little thing?”

She readjusts her hips, “I just thought maybe you’d help me,” she tells him, “I’ll chicken out if I do it myself, I need someone who is gonna. . .who will push me, a little.”

Harry hums low in his throat, putting three of his fingers together and flattening them against the shaft – it’s softer and has more give than he’d imagined, “Looks like it’s three wide, isn’t it? But when I’m finger fucking you I don’t have them straight across,” he repositions them, showing overlapping his ring and index finger over the middle, “They usually curl in together like this unless I’m widening them out to stretch you. It’s thicker all around, clearly, and just a little longer. Have you ever been this full before?”

Y/N shook her head, and a shaky breath left her, “Ah, no,” she motioned to the toy, “I’ve had – like I’ve definitely had toys but they’re usually skinny little vibrators, so this will be the first.”

“Lucky me,” he sets it off to the side, “Well, get your kit off, yeah?”

Y/N shuts the door to the bathroom so that Custard doesn’t come wandering out and sully her innocent little eyes, and Harry gets to work. No matter how many times he does this with her, Harry is still pleasantly surprised by the state of her cunt when he sees her – she’s always pretty wet by the time he’s taking her clothes off. Almost like she’d been thinking about it, letting herself get worked up and excited, jumpy and shivery near him. The thought drives him crazy, even more so when he’s looking at her dripping and wet, enticing him, his fingers, and his neglected cock.

Harry does tease her a little this time, petting against her folds with one finger, and only sinking one all the way down to his knuckle. The little breath she sucks in is just barely heard over the rattle of her heater, and she watches him carefully, leaning up against her pillows. Harry feels around her soft, wet walls, the bumps and ridges that he’d get to feel on his prick one day. How still, even with just a single finger, she sucks and squeezes around it like she’s trying to milk him, beckoning for more.

“More,” she pouts at him, “I can take more.”

“Shh, I know you can,” he hushes her, “How long have you been like this, hm? Unless you get wet in a little under a couple of minutes like some smutty story?”

Y/N looks cute like this, all stretched out with her jacket slouched and rumpled around her body – the sleeves are long for her arms, covering her hands and the fabric falls and bunches when she lifts one to push the hair from her face. She ran her tongue over her dry mouth, not really seductively, just to wet her lips before she spoke, “Um, when we were running through the maze, I think.”

“Oh, you’re filthy –”

“It isn’t because we were getting chased!” She defended herself before he could finish, “I just – I don’t know if you realized it but you were holding onto me really tightly – first it was my arm, and then your hand was on my waist at some point and you kind of – the part where were we had to squeeze through the two inflatables? You pushed me through it and I liked it.”

Harry rewarded her with a second finger, “You like to be manhandled, hm?” He smiled to himself, “Duly noted. Still think you’re filthy getting wet in a haunted house of all places.” Turning his face into her knee, he nips at the skin playfully, “Absolutely naughty.”

“It’s your fault.” Her hand curls up in the pillows beside her head as she spreads her thighs further for him.

“Passing blame is unbecoming.”

He works up to three, fucks, and stretches her open on his fingers until she’s shivering and twitching and so close that her thighs start fighting to close around him. Harry slows down when he notices she’s getting close, and bites down on his bottom lip to stop himself from giggling when she starts begging him to speed up again, telling him how mean he is being. Y/N is a brat through and through, even like this, demanding and needy and frowning, pouting, and complaining.

But he knows that when she’s getting desperate, her begging gets incredibly sweet. And Harry is just too excited for that, to care too much about her grumbling now.

“No, no, no –” she chases after his fingers when he starts to pull them away, but Harry presses his palm against her hip to stop her, “I was going to cum, why did you stop?”

“It isn’t about you cumming,” he reminded her, “I thought this was about stretching this tight little pussy out? Are you just using me to make you cum?”

He holds out his clean hand for her to grab, and it takes her a second before it clicks in her head. Y/N let Harry pull her up and position her on her knees, then grabbed the fake cock by the base. “It’ll be easier if you ride it. That way you can control how much we fit inside of you, hm? Because this will be much different.”

Y/N nods. At first, her hands are gathering the hem of her jacket and shirt, holding it up above her stomach, but he pulls her hands so that they’re resting on his shoulders, “Okay,” she replied, “How should – should we get it wetter? The dildo?”

Harry holds it out to her, “Good idea, baby, why don’t you suck on it?”

She does – she flattens her tongue out, from the base to the tip and she drools and soaks it with her spit. It’s an obscene sight, Harry feels like he could cum in his pants from the sight of it but he refrains. Y/N doesn’t go low enough to gag on it, but she does get a majority of it slick enough that Harry feels like it will ease the glide of it inside of her. Had he been better prepared he might have gotten lube so it would be even smoother, but this was the best that they could do.

When he pulls it from her mouth, Y/N is frowning, “What’s wrong?” He queries.

“If I was gonna do that, I would have rather it been yours,” she complains, and Harry pinches her cheek.

“You’re so whiny,” he positioned the dildo on the ground, holding it steady, “I’ll help you sit down on it, okay?”

Harry guides her hips, watching closely as she slowly begins to sink down. The head buds at her hole and she swallows thickly, her gaze flickering back up to him, watching him closely, “It feels big,” she told him, “I – it’s kind of hard to believe that you’re bigger than this. I wonder how you’ll even fit.”

“We’ll make it fit,” he promises and urges her hips down further, “Come on, nice and slow.”

It does take a little work to get it all inside of her. She stops and starts, rocking her hips to try and get used to it, her face pinched up and showing a little discomfort until Harry presses his thumb into her clit and rubs in circles. Y/N squeezes his shoulders tightly, gasping and moaning, rutting further and further down until Harry has to move his hand out of the way so she can get the rest inside of her. Harry slides his fingers down to the balls, fitting it between his thumb and index to keep it still, but he feels her wet and messy resting against him.

Harry usually doesn’t kiss Y/N when they’re doing this, but he just can’t help himself this time. Her mouth is hung open and her lips are slicked with spit, a little swollen from how she’s been nipping and biting on them trying in vain to muffle her sounds. Her lips are slow as molasses, trying to keep up with him but she seems all too preoccupied by how full she feels. Y/N still ruts and rocks her hips – the tip is curved so he’s sure it’s nestled right up against the bundle of nerves she loves him pressing at – and her groans are muffled into his mouth, against his tongue as it slides along hers.

“Fuck,” she speaks in his mouth, “So full, m’so full.”

He purrs, his face still pressed close to hers, “I know you are,” he bites at her bottom lip, “It feels so good, doesn’t it Baby? Can you imagine how good it’s gonna feel when it’s me? When it’s warm,” his thumb quickens around it as she starts to actively ride the toy, picking up her hips and dropping them back down as much as she can in the position they’re in, using his shoulders as leverage, “When it’s throbbing inside of you? Pumping inside of you?”

Y/N leans closer to him, and kisses him sloppy, “Want it,” she tells him, “I want it, I want it. This feels good, please, please, please,”

Harry never knew that one day he would be jealous of a toy, yet here he is, thumbing at her clit, flicking it back and forth quickly, “Mm, but I’ll feel better,” he promises her, “I’ll feel way, way better, when you’re all dumb on my cock.”

That does make Y/N cum, her hips stilling, her legs trembling, and she groans, grappling for the fabric of his shirt and pinching and pulling. She simultaneously bucks toward his hand and pulls away, and she drenches the dildo so much that Harry only realizes when she pulls off of it that she squirted. Harry gapes at her, his mouth had fallen open as it settles in his head, his hand covered in her juices, the way she is still shaking and he was losing it, soaking his briefs, cumming untouched. She completely slouches into him, boneless and melted.

Y/N took a second to catch her breath, as Harry held her in his arms and rubbed up and down her back. This is new – usually, after the fact, they both get cleaned up but mostly separately. This feels very intimate, and as he feels every little shake and shiver, nuzzling close to him, once again he is reminded how similar Y/N is to a kitten.

It seems like hours might have gone by without them speaking, just soaking in each other’s presence. Harry is almost positive that she has fallen asleep in his arms, before she does talk, “I’m embarrassed,” she finally murmurs into his chest, “So I’m hiding in here right now.”

Harry chuckles, rubbing her back in slow, big circles, “Why would you be embarrassed?” He asked her, “That was beautiful.”

“I made a mess,” she huffed, “And I know when I stand up my legs are going to be shaking! Post-orgasmic clarity is horrific.”

“I came in my pants,” he told her, “Untouched, just from watching you, and you don’t see me whinging about being embarrassed. You look cute when you cum, don’t think about it too much.”

Y/N tilted her head up finally to look at him, and she still seems so fucked out, Harry feels his softening prick give a halfhearted twitch, “Am I best at dancing or cumming? Be honest.”

Harry snorted, patting her lower back.

“You’re best at being a brat.”

. . .

“Do you like me?”

The thing was, Harry wasn’t planning on having this conversation at all. Mostly because he hadn’t even really considered this for more than a couple of hours, because Niall had been the one to mention it to him in the first place. They had been at their ramen place, Harry was in the middle of slurping noodles into his mouth and wondering if it was too much to ask for an additional boiled egg when Niall asked him.

“So are you and Y/N dating?”

Harry paused, two noodles dangling from his pursed lips, his gaze flickering up to the brunette across from him, “Huh?” Niall doesn’t seem phased, just a little inquisitive, and he’s looking down at a picture on his phone. He sets it down and turns the screen to him, swiping his brightness up and swiping through. Y/N had posted on her Instagram, a photo dump of pictures from the last couple of weeks, and even Harry is surprised to see that he’s in a good number of them.

“Adam, Mei, and I were discussing it –”

“Discussing it?”

“--and you guys are just giving off the vibe that you’re dating. If you’re not then you at least like each other.”

Harry blinks at him.

“We do?”

“You’re hopeless,” Niall sighed, “Listen, you don’t have a lot of like – crushes, ballet has always been your life, and you fuck around and all that, but I think it’s rare that I’ve seen you actually have feelings for somebody,” he explained himself, “But you’re spending so much time together, I can hear you talking her ear off about shite and you are a man of few words typically. You tease her but it doesn’t have that biting edge like you might hate her, in the way that you tease everyone else,” he makes a show of counting on his fingers, “You’ve got this dumb, love drunk look on your face every time she’s even brought up, and when she walks into the room, your face lights up! I mean fuck, you took care of her when she had a fever, H – you don’t even take care of me when I have a fever and I’ve known you since we were kids! Like you clearly have feelings for her, and I think you probably have had some form of them this whole time, but your brain got it fucked up and you thought you hated her instead.”

Harry opens his mouth, then he closes it.

“Adam and Mei are saying the same; how Y/N talks about you all the time, and she’s bringing up funny things you’ve said. She’s taking pictures of things she sees when she’s out because she thinks you might like to see it later – she said you’re cooking dinner for her. At the haunted house, she was fixed around you the whole time when Adam clearly would have been the better choice, because he’s huge and wasn’t acting nearly half as scared as you were so none of the scare actors would have messed with her. Then you got jealous of that bakery guy, she noticed, and instead of fucking with you, she tried to make you feel better about it, like. . .you’re a little dense sometimes Harry, but I don’t think you’re stupid.”

Harry looks down at his noodles, floating around in the broth. He guesses he hasn’t really thought about it as of late. Anytime the thought threatened to enter his brain, he brushed it off for a later date so that a later him could deal with it and sort out his emotions and feelings. But Harry already isn’t really the most adept when it comes to his own emotions, so even if he did sit down with himself and think it out, he probably would have excused it for something else.

“Oh,” he finally replied, scratching the side of his head, “I guess I hadn’t considered that, really.”

Niall looked at him tiredly, “You’re so stupid,” he shook his head, “I love you, Man, but you’re so stupid.”

And Harry probably would have been content keeping the whole situation to himself. Until he could actually consider all of this, make it make sense in his head, and understand fully what his feelings toward her were. He knows he certainly doesn’t hate her anymore. He knows that he likes to spend time with her, and if they’re apart then he’s messaging her and asking what she’s doing. Harry knows that she makes him laugh, and she’s still an annoying brat but he feels more endeared than he does annoyed. Harry wouldn’t say he’s a selfish lover, but he’s never been one to just continuously make someone cum without getting anything out of it, but he doesn’t even care when he doesn’t cum, or has to touch himself after he gets her off. He finds himself thinking she’s beautiful more often than not – he’s never thought she was ugly, only that her attitude was poor, but it seems to overwhelm him lately.

. . .Harry likes her. He does.

Still, he wasn’t going to bring it up. He was supposed to see Y/N that night, so he would suck it up and pretend like hadn’t had any Niall-induced revelations lately, but, like most things lately, Y/N had managed to intervene in those plans.

“Do you like me?” She had asked it almost too casually, sitting on his bean bag, the drama they were watching forgotten on his projector when she’d turned to look at him and ask. Harry was lounging on his bed, propped up on his arm, and in the middle of teaching himself how to embroider (it wasn’t going well). This makes him pause though, the needle halfway through the cotton fabric, his gaze darting to her.

“Excuse me?”

Y/N plucks at her nails, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth, “It’s just. . .well, Adam and Mei were talking to me today –” So was this planned? There’s no way that Niall, Adam, and Mei all just happened to bring this up on the same day as a coincidence, “--and they just said something to me today that kind of made sense about us, I think. So I was wondering if you liked me?”

Harry sets the embroidery down, off to the side of his lap, “Did they bring up how we talk about each other all the time? How I cook you dinner, and you take pictures of things that I might like, and –”

Her eyes narrowed, “Okay, what the hell, did they talk about this without us?”

A snort leaves him, knuckling at his eyes and wiping over his mouth, “Oh, babe, yeah I think they were. Honestly, I would have – I kind of wanted to figure out how to tell you, or how to ask you out properly, but I didn’t realize it myself until today, you know? I knew that I felt. . .soft, toward you, far softer than I did before and softer than I feel toward anyone else.” He smiles softly, “But I guess you know now. I don’t need an answer or anything right now, or if your answer is no, then you can tell me but –”

“No, I like you too,” Y/N rushes to tell him, shaking her head, scrambling off of the bean bag to get closer, “I – okay, I’ll be honest, I definitely think I knew a couple of weeks ago but I thought maybe you would laugh in my face if I brought it up. So I just – well, I was going to ignore it.” She tosses her phone back onto the bean bag, crawling up onto the mattress with her, “But you do?”

“I do,” he rubs at the top of her head, brushing the hair from her face, “Yeah, I do. Honestly, how Niall was explaining it, I thought maybe I’d been kind of obvious about it.” He grimaces, “And maybe a little embarrassing, you know? You couldn’t tell?”

Y/N presses even closer, getting nearer, “No, you idiot,” she nudges her head against his shoulder, “You hated me so vehemently, I was still convinced this was just some ploy to get back in the universe’s good graces or something.”

“Aish,” he sighs, and he cradles the side of her face in his palm, running the pad of his thumb over the smooth skin of her cheek – this poor, sweet thing. Harry feels so shitty for everything, it almost feels like he doesn’t deserve to have this version of her. For everything he’d done, and everything he’d said, he didn’t earn the right to see her so tender and affectionate, looking at him with these eyes exuding warmth, “I’m so sorry, Puppy.”

Harry kisses her.

The kiss is different from their other kisses. Usually, it is messy, a little sloppy and desperate, in the heat of their neediness and pretty far into whatever they were doing that neither could necessarily revel in it. But this one is nice. . calm; he takes his time to work her mouth open, explore behind her lips, taste her tongue and the sweetness of the smoothie still clung to her. Y/N’s hands are on either side of his face, holding his cheeks at first, then sliding down to his neck, to his chest, curling up in the loose fabric there.

Harry pulls away, but dots kisses down her jaw, to her neck. He sucks the tender skin into his mouth, licking and biting over the pulse point. Her hips readjusted beneath him, pushing herself closer to him by pulling him down, and Harry had to steady himself by flattening his hand against the mattress beside her head. Y/N snakes her hands beneath his shirt, her fingers skimming and skating across the skin of his torso, thumbing over his nipple and making it pebble beneath her touch. He moans against her, “Ahh,” he breathes out, “What’re you doing?”

“Just feeling you,” she answered, then started pushing the shirt up, “Want to feel you everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” He repeated the hand that cradled her waist and squeezed when she nodded, “You want me to stretch that little pussy out, yeah? Show me how well you can fit me?”

Y/N rocks her hips up again, “Mhm,” she murmured, but a grin stretches over her mouth, teasing, “Try – try not to cum in your pants though, yeah?”

A laugh coughs out of him when he leans down and nips at her bottom lip, “Very funny.”

Undressing Y/N is always delightful, like opening up a little gift for himself. He’s seen all of her body at this point, but he still feels like he could drool as he pulls her shirt over her head, bunching the fabric up and tossing it off to the side before working on her pants. As he flicks the button open, he takes her nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over it, smushing kisses between the valley of her breasts to her other nipple and tugging that into his mouth too. Y/N is always so responsive to what he does to her, but she seems even more sensitive today – like if he even panted warm air on her it might feel good.

Goosebumps dot and pimples all over her body as he tugs her bottoms down her legs. Y/N opens her legs and Harry latches onto her, licking between her folds, a slow drag of his tongue back and forth from where she’s leaking to where all the blood had collected and left her clit engorged and seeking his attention. He buries his face into her, not caring if his nose rubs into her while he slides his tongue in and out of her dripping center. This Harry does allow himself to revert to his usual messiness, spreading her all over his mouth, and his cheeks. Y/N’s first orgasm always comes relatively quickly, so he isn’t surprised when her hands are buried in his curls, tugging and pulling, rutting against his tongue when he holds it out for her. Harry just lets her – usually, he holds her down but he doesn’t mind tonight, having her use him to get off. The wetter she is, the more relaxed she is, the easier it would be for him to fit inside of her.

When she cums, it’s with a full-body shudder, his heart thunders in his ears as he works her through it, finally pursing his lips back around her clit and sucking gently. He does it until Y/N is twitching away from him, pushing at his head, and Harry unlatches to busy himself kissing the inside of her thighs. “Always so pretty when you cum,” he wiggles his hand between his body and the mattress, his index and middle fingers sliding along the juncture of her thigh and labia, framing her, “You cum whenever you want, okay, baby?”

Harry blows cool air over her slit and watches as she pulses around nothing before he sinks two fingers into her. Y/N sucks them in easily, twitching, still sensitive from the first orgasm but not enough that she would be pulling away from him. Harry moves slowly and gently as he works her back up, stroking and rubbing against her walls, feeling the ridges, trying not to get too excited at the thought of how his cock would be snug between them in just a little bit. He spends more time stretching her this time around, pushing out his fingers to either wall, scissoring her open until he’s sliding three fingers in. Y/N doesn’t seem all too concerned that he’s being more clinical about stretching her rather than solely rubbing at her g-spot. She mewls and keens for him, her fingers stuffed in her mouth and she sucks on them idly.

Harry pulls her wrist from her mouth, replacing her fingers with his, and Y/N accommodates the change easily. She suckles at them, sighing contentedly through her nose and letting her eyes flutter shut. Harry continues to fuck her open, “You just like having something in your mouth, don’t you?” She nods, letting her tongue slide along the dips between his fingers, “Should keep it full more often then, shouldn’t I? Let you keep my cock warm.” When she squeezes around the fingers inside of her, he laughs a little bit, “Ahh, you like that, don’t you?”

Finally, Harry focuses on the spongy bundle of nerves, rubbing and pressing against it insistently until she’s coming apart again. Her eyes had opened again, watching him closely, but as soon as it hit her they fluttered to the back of her head and she was clamping down on his knuckles, with her walls and her teeth. Harry kisses her tummy this time, peppering them around her belly button, smiling against her skin when she giggles, squirming, murmuring that she’s ticklish.

“M’ready,” she tells him, knocking her heel against his bum, “I – seriously, if you make me cum again, I’ll pass out. I want to feel you, please?”

How could Harry say no to that? He pulls himself up and lets her help take his shirt off, prying it off his head and letting it puddle on the ground with hers. His pants come shortly after, and his briefs too, and his cock all but pops up, leveling and slapping against his lower abdomen. Harry has to squeeze around himself to relieve some of the pressure building there – he’s so hard, it’s going to take everything in him not to bust as soon as he even feels the warmth of her radiating onto him.

Y/N reaches down, fitting her fingers around his prick and squeezing with him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, and they both watch as a blurt of precum drips from the tip, slowly stringing down to a spot on her thigh, “It’s so big,” she murmured, “I know that’s why we’re doing all of this in the first place, but I just – wow,” she’s breathless, “Want it to fit inside of me so bad.”

“It’s going to,” Harry covers her hand with his own, moving it up and down with each other, “Gonna fuck my shape into you, hm?”

Once Harry gets the condom on, takes the tube of lube, and squirts it all over his prick, he sits back, looking her up and down, “Do you want to sit on my cock? Or do you want me to push in?”

“Want you to do the work,” she breathes out, reaching down and grabbing the back of her thighs, holding herself open and spreading for him – the sight makes Harry lightheaded, “I’m too tired.”

Harry laughs, “Okay, princess,” he kisses her forehead, holding the base of his cock and sliding himself between her folds, getting wetter and wetter, smearing the lubricant and her juices around, “Just keep holding yourself open for me, don’t worry about a thing.”

Like everything tonight, he’s slow and measured. He nudges the tip on her hole, pressing forward, and Y/N is so pliant and relaxed from her earlier orgasms that her walls give way. The head goes in easier than he had imagined, and Y/N is breathing nice and even, rolling her ankles around slightly, her toes curling a little bit, and Harry has to grip hard on the blankets. Harry desperately wants to sink all the way in, down to his balls, but what would the point of any of the stretching have been if he did it like that? He wants her to feel good – doesn’t want it to hurt.

Things are going well until about a quarter of the way in, and then her hand rests on his belly, walls clamping down on him. Harry pauses, lowering so their chests press together, “Do you need a break?”

“Just a second,” Harry agrees and pushes a kiss to her lips – a couple, actually, and then he’s introducing his tongue again, slowly curling them together, slipping his hand between them so he could roll two fingers over her clit. He feels her relax again, and he rolls his hips just a little bit, sinking in more, and Y/N moans, “Keep going,” she murmured, “It’s good, keep going.”

They do this a couple of times, languidly, and carefully, and Y/N swallows him right up. By the time he’s made it all the way inside, nestled deep and close inside of her, Harry lets out his own quivering breath, “F-fuck,” he rubbed the tips of their noses together, “Good, so good, you’re so fucking good for me,” he praised her and Y/N responds, mewling, pulsing more around him, “Such a sweet little thing.”

Y/N rests her hand on her lower stomach, “Move a little,” she orders, and Harry listens, rocking his hips just slightly, and whatever Y/N feels makes her groan. She reaches for his hand that’s sitting on her waist, moving it where hers had been lying. Harry moves again when she nods, and when he does, he feels it – the head of his cock nudging against her from the inside. Harry throbs hard inside of her, dipping his head down to her throat, “I can feel you so deep inside of me.”

It’s so much – so tight. Y/N is surrounding him everywhere: his cock, his head, and her legs shift and move to lock around his hips again. Harry’s hand finds a place at the nape of her neck, cradling it in his palm, and with his other hand, he slides down behind her back. He presses her close to his body, speaking against her mouth, “Can I move, baby? Are you okay if I move?”

“Yes, yes, I want it.”

As soon as Harry starts rolling his hips, he knows that he isn’t going to last. It feels too good – she’s wet and slippery and still tight, clenching around him, and they keep kissing. He’s breathing her air, whispering praises, suckling and biting at her bottom lip, making it swollen. Her nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders, Y/N is whimpering, and when their heads are pressed together, she pulls the lobe of his ear between her teeth. She nibbles at it and runs her tongue over the skin beneath it.

Harry isn’t sure when Y/N started meeting his hips, but once she does, Harry knows he can go a little quicker. The slide in and out of her is much smoother than it started, and when he lifts her hips just slightly, she starts moaning so much louder, “Want you to cum,” he tells her, “Need you to cum, baby, wanna feel it around me, fuck – I’ve been thinking about this for so long.” His fingers sped up around the swollen bud between her lips, “Please, please, please.”

Her arms slide around him tighter, holding him, squeezing him. Once her walls clamp down on him, Harry’s done for – a heat coils deep in his belly, swirling, extending out through his vessels, zipping through him. Harry ruts into her, once, twice, three times hard and he’s digging his fingers into her body.

He fills the condom, his blood roars in his ears, brain fizzy and buzzing in his ears. Harry slouches into Y/N’s body and closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

Harry thinks he could fall asleep like this, as Y/N’s personal weighted blanket, and he thinks for a while Y/N is pretty content with it too. Eventually, she does start wiggling, patting him with the bottom of her foot to his calf, “Okay, enough,” she murmured, “You’re heavy and I’m sore.”

“Well, that won’t do.”

Harry cleans them both up, wiping between her thighs with a warm cloth as tentatively as he can, soft and careful. When he brushes over her center, she twitches and pulls away some from the sensitivity of it, “Sorry,” he murmured, “I know, I know, almost done.” He feels pleasantly buzzy and warm; his mind is flooded with a haze of emotions but all of them are good, sweet, and bright. Harry picks his softest, biggest shirt for her to pull over her head, and changes the sheets around her, peeling the top sheet that was still messy with lube, cum, and juices. Y/N lay on the top of his fitted sheet, but the thick comforter he’d pushed to the bottom of the mattress was still clean. He pulls it up, covering her legs before he crawls into bed beside her.

Y/N snuggles up to his side, molding into his body, and lifting her cheek to rest it on his bare chest. Harry wonders when the last time he felt this content was and honestly. . honestly, he doesn’t think he ever has. This feeling, the warmth that bubbles through him, how he melts into her body. It feels good. Harry can’t believe he’d denied himself the possibility of this for so long.

“Am I best at cumming or dancing? Be honest.” She murmurs, this little quiz she likes to do with him now, sliding her hand down his forearm and Harry warps their hands so he can slot their fingers together.

Harry nestles closer to her, hiding his face in her hair.

“You’re just the best. Do you like the sound of that?”

Y/N melts closer to him.

“Yes.”

1K notes · View notes

stylessatellite · 8 months

Text

don't know where we're going

Harry invites Y/N on tour as his opening artist...he wasn't expecting to fall in love

Word count: 26,709

A/N: hola mis amores 💜 here is this new story for you. it might have been a long time but I promise I will always come back. come talk to me about the new story

Warnings: smut (female pleasure)

Love on Tour had come to an end. The final show was here tonight in Italy, and Y/N was excited. Her band had shared they couldn’t sleep or eat from their nerves, but Y/N felt at ease. She had always felt at home on stage. Tonight would be no different.

When Y/N’s mother realized her daughter loved to sing, she put on even more musicals for her to watch and sing along to. Y/N’s mother, Reina, never got tired of her daughter’s voice, and with her encouragement, Y/N began to play in bars, anywhere that would give her the time and space. A producer one day approached her after doing two songs in a coffee shop, telling her she had a chance to make it. He handed her a card and made her promise she’d call. She almost didn’t.

Her mother gave her the courage to call, and her life changed. They got her time in the studio, where she got to present her ideas and songs. The team supported her, and from then on, Y/N Y/LN became a person to be on the lookout for. She had writing sessions with Julia Michaels that allowed her to learn that not only did she have the liberty to write everything she felt but that with experience comes inspiration. As she began to record, she knew she had to think about the future of a tour. Not soon after, she met her guitarist Felix at a sports bar, where they bonded over their mutual love for Formula One. Felix introduced her to June, who became her drummer, and their bassist is Quinn, June’s brother.

The venues Y/N had booked out always surprised her because, despite its small capacity, every show was always sold out. Her first single blew through the charts; it got her name out there. Her first tour around the UK was a success and allowed her to begin playing festivals. Y/N was happy with how her life turned out and had no idea it could improve.

Y/N loved her job. She loved being on stage and connecting with fans. She loved touring with her favorite people. She lived a comfortable life doing what she loved. Y/N had a large fanbase, not popstar sensation fame, but it’s not what she was searching for. It was why she had to think about her answer when she found out the biggest pop star of her generation wanted her to open up for his final leg in Europe. It didn’t make sense because Y/N clearly knew about Harry Styles. She didn’t know he knew about her.

He’s a big fan.

Zane Lowe played him a song, and he was hooked.

Harry saw you play one night and has followed you ever since.

The exposure would be good for you.

Harry would like to meet with you before you make a choice.

The choice was clear for everyone but Y/N. She had never met the man, and while the pay would be incredible, she wasn’t willing to go on tour with someone she did not get on with. The meeting with Harry turns out to be a success. He comes in full of smiles, a bit bashful when his manager points out how big a fan he is. Harry doesn’t deny it; it makes her trust him because he’s genuinely a fan of her music, and she admires that. Y/N returns the compliment, stating that she learned to play “Fine Line” on the piano because it was her favorite. Her manager Zahra shared that she cried when she first heard it because she wished she had written the song. Harry blushed at the compliment while Y/N tried to brush past it. Thankfully, Harry was polite and thanked her. While everyone got to work on paperwork, it gave Y/N a moment to speak with Harry alone. Y/N started the conversation because Harry sat there quietly, simply enjoying observing her.

“Thank you for the opportunity. My band and I are excited,” she expressed.

Harry grins, “thank you for agreeing.”

“I hear stadiums are what you’ll likely be sticking to.”

“Scared,” he teased.

Y/N shrugs, “I never imagined singing in front of that capacity if I’m honest. I think it’s easier because no one will be there for me.”

“I will be. Will watch every night,” he promises.

Y/N waves him off, “wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”

“Didn’t think you were. I hope we share the stage one day, maybe sing a song together.”

“If we make it to the end of this, you can come out during my set,” she teases.

“It would be my honor.”

That was the start of Harry and Y/N’s friendship.

Y/N loved playing dress up. On stage, she got to wear whatever she wanted. It’s a big reason she enjoyed seeing what Harry would pick each night. Y/N loved spinning, and the perfect accessory to do so was a skirt, specifically a mini skirt. She remembers thrifting in a little shop in Dublin, where she found the perfect pink mini, and from there, it became part of who she was. From baby tees to oversized cargo pants to skirts, the one constant was the platforms that always gave her that extra height.

Y/N knew she had to honor her mother each night she was on stage, and because the earliest memory Y/N has is sitting in front of the mirror as her mother tied ribbons and bows in her hair, she made it a tradition to keep them in. Y/N swore she had one that fit all of her outfits, and if it didn’t, she didn’t mind getting her scissors and cutting up a bit of clothing.

She is now a few shows in and is having the time of her life. Y/N gets to play her music every night and enjoys seeing Harry perform. Then, she ends each night by discussing her favorite parts with Harry. Y/N doesn’t remember how it happened, but Y/N doesn’t go to sleep unless she has spoken to Harry; by now, it’s part of her routine. The friendship she is building with him makes her feel at ease on stage each night. One night, they talked about their inspiration, and Y/N told him she was inspired by all around her. From her friends to movies to even books she has read. She wrote “Another Love” based on Gus and January, a couple from a book she read. It’s easy to be inspired because she lets every bit of emotion change her.

“Your music is sad,” Harry tells her one night.

Y/N frowns, “excuse me.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“I’m leaving,” she goes to stand up, but he stops her by holding onto her wrist.

“Hear me out,” he pleads. She settles deeper into her seat. “I enjoy it. I think it’s the best music I have ever heard, and it’s so sad because it’s your real emotions and reactions. You’re putting your heart out there; sometimes the sadness wins out.”

Y/N knows he’s right, but that doesn’t mean she has to say that. “Well, you’re always horny.”

Harry burst out laughing, “fair.”

“I’d never sing about watermelons with you,” she fakes disgust.

Harry’s interest has now peaked. “What would you sing?”

“Fine line, but not with you. I’d add it to my setlist if I was on tour now.”

Harry didn’t know she really loved a song like that. “That’s–wow. Thank you.”

“Realistically, I’d do Daylight. She's a bop.”

Y/N laughs when she sees Harry nodding. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he promises.

At the following show, Y/N kept thinking back to what Harry said about how her music carries a sadness. She doesn’t mean to, but it’s the type of melodies that soothe her. It’s clear from the fanbase she has created that her fans also like it.

“Mr. Styles says I have sad music as if he didn’t write Matilda,” she teases. “Kidding, we all know Cherry is his saddest song. While some songs are sad, you can still dance to them, so this is “Sorry.” Please sing if you know it. If not, that’s okay too.”

Harry greets her when she walks off stage. “Did you enjoy that, boss man?” Y/N’s running on a high; all she wants to do is spend time with Harry, but he has to get ready.

“You’re my favorite part of every show,” he tells her genuinely.

Y/N feels her face heat up, but she knows where this could head and decides to stay clear. She pats his shoulder and walks away. “Good luck, Harry,” she calls out as she turns the corner, leaving Harry standing alone, wondering how he’d work up the courage to ask Y/N out.

Another day, another show. Except today, Y/N saw a familiar face and had to bring it up.

“I’ve seen you before. You look very pretty.” Y/N compliments the fan with a black baby tee with bedazzled cherries and glitter pants. “You’re coming to the shows because of me,” Y/N repeated, shocked. “But it’s the Harry Styles show!” Y/N leans closer, listening to the fan share that she’s their favorite artist. The fan had traveled from Iceland to be here tonight because it’s the only place she managed to get tickets. Then, she decided to try attending as many shows as possible before returning home. Y/N felt so much gratitude, making her want to hug this person. While Y/N couldn’t jump down, she thought of the next best thing. “Do you want to sing this one with me? Can we do that?” Y/N looks side-stage at her tour manager, and she’s shaking her head in disappointment, but no one is stopping her. “Come on up.” The fan is helped over the barricade and guided upstairs to meet her. Y/N hugs the fan tightly, thanking her for everything, and Y/N tells her she hopes to see her in the crowd again. “Everyone, this is Sasha! She’s part of the band tonight. Now, Sasha, do you know ‘The Band and I,’” Y/N checks.

“Word for word,” Sasha assures her.

“Wonderful, you’re all in for a treat. Hit it, Junie!” Y/N shouts.

Walking off the stage that night, Y/N is flying on a high. She smiles with the band; she sees Harry leaning against a wall with a smirk. “Breaking all the rules, huh, almost gave Jeff a heart attack.”

Y/N grimaces, “am I in trouble?”

Harry rolls his eyes, “I enjoyed it, and I'm the boss. So no.”

She sighs in relief, “I-I just felt grateful. This is your tour,” she emphasizes. “And for the fan to enjoy my music and know the lyrics to a song I wrote, which I haven’t officially released yet, overwhelmed me. Playing in front of an audience has always been my dream, but having my lyrics sung back to me is not something I ever let myself imagine.”

Harry smiles, and she knows he understands. He doesn’t have to say a word. His eyes say it all for her. Y/N is thankful she joined this tour, and while she admires Harry, she knows she can’t forget to keep her boundaries up because she knows they will only begin to fall with time.

It was early March when Harry changed their relationship. Y/N enjoyed time with her band, but sometimes she needed to be alone. She used the time to write or simply enjoy the silence, even for a few minutes. Harry offered her a private space where he kept his piano. He traveled everywhere with it, and while Y/N thought it was a hassle, she was grateful because it allowed her to play with melodies she had stuck in her head.

Today was no different. She had spent an hour alone when Harry walked in on her, seemingly just as lost in his head. He was startled when he looked up and found her sitting in an old hoodie of her first merch ever created.

“Cute,” he comments.

Y/N shrugs, “I know you want one.”

“Desperately.”

She doesn’t know if he’s continuing the bit but decides she will have her mother bring one to her at Wembley for him. It would be her home show, so her mother would be in attendance.

“Anything new?” He gestures to the piano and her open notebook. Y/N hands it to him, allowing him to have a look inside. There are more music notes than there are lyrics. She has the perfect melody, but words seem hard to find right now. “Care to play it for me?”

Y/N loves that he always asks. They both know how private the writing process can be, but with Harry, it’s clear they have built a level of trust. Y/N starts slow on the keys before building up until, by the end reaches the slow start. Harry grins at her, and Y/N can see he likes it. She knows he plays the piano, but she’s never had the chance to watch him play; he’s more reserved compared to her. It’s not something she minds. It just means they both have boundaries they won’t cross and respects that.

“It was beautiful,” he tells her after a few seconds. She thanks him softly, shutting her notebook and knows she has to head out to get ready.

“Y/N, I-I really like having you on tour.”

“Thank you for inviting me. It’s truly an amazing environment to work in. Even if you do need a few more ladies in your crew.”

Harry laughs but agrees. He knows she speaks from experience where most of his technicians are men. Y/N has a more diverse crew. It is an industry that works to break down women. It's nice to see how she always lifts everyone up. He didn’t realize how, over time, his feelings grew for Y/N. He went from seeing her every few days to speaking to her every night before bed. She brings him a comfort he did not know he was missing. Y/N had become the best part of his day, from watching her perform on stage to their nightly talks. He wanted to spend all his free time with her, so he chose to be honest with her about his feelings.

“Can I tell you something, Y/N?” Harry asked softly.

Y/N turned to him, a gentle smile on her face that helped calm his nerves the tiniest bit. He was worried it would not go his way because there were times he gave her a compliment, and she always brushed it away. He always greeted her with a hug, but she always turned it into a one-second side hug. He didn’t know if that was because he made her nervous or she simply didn’t like hugs, although he’d seen her hug her bandmates. Heck, he’s seen them all squished on a couch together.

Harry takes a deep breath; he wants to look away from her, her gaze making him nervous, but the comfort he finds in her gorgeous orbs allows him to push forward. “I-I like you, Y/N.”

Y/N thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest. She did not expect a confession of this kind from Harry. It leaves her frozen for a second because while Y/N reciprocates those feelings, she’s not at liberty to act on them, not when working on the largest tour of her life. Y/N doesn’t care what people think. It’s a big reason she doesn’t look at tabloids or use her social media accounts, but this–thinking of pursuing a relationship with Harry is not something she can allow herself to give in.

“You’re sweet, Harry. I think you’re great too.”

Harry grimaces because he realizes she doesn’t understand what he is saying. Before he can explain what he means, June, Y/N’s drummer, rushes in, telling her Felix was having an issue and it was bad. Y/N patted his shoulder and excused herself.

Well, it went nothing like he expected. Harry held out for her to say she felt the same, but she clearly didn’t. Harry knows many would tell him to move on, but he knows Y/N is special. While he wouldn’t pursue her, he knew he still wanted her in his life.

As much as Y/N hated to admit it, after Harry’s confession, there has been an awkwardness in their conversations. It’s been too much because they no longer spend time alone. Y/N decided to treat their relationship the same, but when she went to his room that night, she found Mitch with him. Y/N knew that she messed up. She also knew she was being selfish by wanting to keep it all the same when he had put himself out there only for her to brush him off.

A few shows go by, and Y/N feels better because Harry still seeks her out to have lunch together. He invites her to join his workouts, which she regrets because Brad is honestly insane. Brad had promised to make a routine that best fit her needs. Harry did not change much; he kept flirting, offering her compliments and daily hugs. A rush went through her each night, knowing he was watching her.

Tonight was no different. He offered her a short hug, and off she went to play to his fans. Y/N felt off from the moment she got on stage but had no idea why. Quinn stepped close, wanting to know if she was feeling okay, but Y/N couldn’t describe it other than a pit in her stomach. It was as if she sensed something was coming. Y/N promised she was fine and pushed through.

Halfway through the set, Y/N looked over and saw Harry staring at her with a fond smile. Y/N didn’t want to look away but had a show to play. Her feelings were winning, and Y/N knew she wouldn’t care about the aftermath if she decided to date Harry. She wanted to bask in the feeling of liking him and hopefully loving him one day. So, she decided to do something different to let him know she was ready to have that conversation.

“Right, this is a little different tonight. I-I have a friend who loves this song, and we haven’t played it in some time, but I thought they might enjoy it and hopefully you as well. This is ‘Crystal Clear.’”

This song is one she wrote when she was wishing for a happy future with a partner who loves and respects her, showing them that she won’t give in to her fears and wants to be together. It was one of Quinn’s favorites to play, but all collectively agreed it didn’t fit the setlist. Y/N knew she’d get endless questions for adding it so suddenly, but she’d deal with that after speaking with Harry. They played a few more songs, and once she gave her final bow, she hurried off stage. Y/N expected to find Harry waiting for her there but instead ran into Mitch, who looked at her, startled.

“Where’s Harry?” Y/N asked impatiently.

“Piano room, but–”

She hurried down the hall, ignoring Mitch, who tried telling her to stop. She didn’t realize he was following her down.

“Y/N don’t–” She walks into the piano room even as Mitch tries to stop her to find Harry hugging a woman. Y/N knew it wasn’t a friend because the grip the woman had on Harry was one of possession. Harry was looking at her, but his face was hard to read. It was as if all the walls she had broken down were now standing higher and stronger. Y/N didn’t move her eyes away from him; her eyes landed on his swollen lips. It’s clear she interrupted a private moment. Y/N grimaces because she knows she would never be able to think about this piano without the tainted memory of Harry wrapped in the arms of another.

“I’m sorry,” she sends them a grim look and walks out, closing the door behind her. She finds Mitch and Sarah staring at her, unsure what to do; they must be aware of the situation between her and Harry.

“Is that his…” She couldn’t even say the word.

Sarah frowned, “she’s uh kind of friend.”

Y/N didn’t need to hear anymore. Sure, Harry said he liked her, but when she didn’t give him the answer he wanted, what did she want him to do, beg and make her open her eyes. No, she needed to figure it out on her own, and now that she did, it was too late.

It’s not like she had a reason to be jealous. She never told Harry she liked him. All she did was pat his shoulder and move on like nothing had ever been said. Y/N bid Mitch and Sarah good luck for the night and walked to her green room. Y/N’s tears began to fall as soon as the door closed behind her. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Nothing was going on between them, yet why did she feel like nothing would be the same anymore. Maybe it was hurting because he had promised to watch her set each night, and she sang a different song tonight because he had said it was his favorite. Y/N knew she wasn’t being fair, sending him mixed signals, but Y/N didn’t deserve to feel this either. It made her feel as if his feelings weren’t even real. She was blinded by her tears to notice June was on the couch, book in hand, but was thankful she was there because she got to break down in the comfort of arms she was familiar with.

Y/N wasn’t okay, but she would be. It was only a crush.

Y/N could not sleep that night. She tossed and turned until she gave up and decided to go to her balcony to watch the sunrise. Time moved slowly, and it allowed her to regroup. By eight o’clock, she was all packed up and waiting in the lobby. Y/N rode to the airport with her friends, where they would all get on separate flights and reunite in May for rehearsals and more love on tour. Y/N was ready to go home and enjoy a home-cooked meal with her mother. She had said goodbye to everyone except for one person. He was quieter today; it allowed him to blend in. Harry had a “Damn” sweater on, the hood up, and a claw clip in the jumper's pocket. Y/N starts walking his way before she can change her mind.

“Harry,” she calls out softly.

He looks up, offering her the tiniest smile. “Y/N.”

“Have a good break.” She offers awkwardly.

He nods. They make no move, and Y/N knows they have no idea where they stand, but Y/N would never start something if Harry had someone else, so she knew she had to come back from the break clear-headed and with these feelings gone and, if not at least tucked away.

Y/N opened her arms and shrugged, telling him it was up to him. Harry didn’t even have to think about it; he wrapped her in a tight hug, breathing her in for one last time.

“Have a safe flight,” he whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

She walks away with a heavy heart and hopes a month and a half is enough to lose these feelings.

While home, Y/N tries to deal with her feelings, and for the most part, it works. Y/N got in the routine of going on morning walks followed by an hour of yoga. She found it helpful in clearing her thoughts and starting her day without a clouded mind. Y/N had not talked to Harry since that morning in the airport; he had sent texts, but they had all gone unread. Her mother tried to convince her to answer him, but she knew it would only hurt more if she found out he was dating that person. The only good thing about this is that Y/N had written five new songs. It seemed heartbreak and love were always a good sign of inspiration. Y/N played her favorite to her mum, and she was told it was okay. Felix told her that the new song was the heart of the new album she was working on. Through the years, she had learned to take what her mother says with a grain of salt.

Her mother was also tired of her moping. Y/N, when on break, would go to her own flat and visit her mother occasionally but so far spent her entire holiday there. Her mother assured Y/N she enjoyed having her home, but it did worry her that she had not left the house. So, as any mother would do, she set Y/N up for a blind date. Y/N said no, time and time again, but Reina promised it would only be coffee. Y/N knew she didn’t have to go, but some of her was tempted because while she knew she had friends to call up, this wasn’t something she wanted to discuss. Going out and talking with a stranger would be awkward but would be a change in topic.

Y/N was told he’d find her as he received a photo of her. She got there early, deciding to use the time to read a book. Quinn told her “One Last Stop” would change her life and, so far, hadn’t disappointed. Y/N was lost in the story that she jumped up when someone lightly touched her shoulder.

“Shit, sorry,” she looked up, hoping the person hadn’t spilled any coffee, and to her surprise, they were empty-handed. His chocolate eyes were filled with concern, but Y/N brushed it off by offering him a timid smile. “Hi, are you Miles?”

“Yes, and you’re Y/N,” he stated.

“Mhm…it’s nice to meet you.”

Miles nods, “you’re prettier than the picture I was sent.”

Y/N feels her face warm in embarrassment and doesn’t even dare ask to see the photo they showed him. If she knew her mother, it had to be the time she jumped into Glacier Lake and came out looking like a wet dog. Her mother always made sure to keep her humble. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

He gestures for her to sit down and follows after her. She tucks her book back into her bag, ready to give him her full attention. “Do you want something to drink? Heard they have an amazing lavender latte.”

Y/N gestures to her cup before her, “already got something.”

Miles nods, “a pastry, then?”

Now that she would never say no to. “I’ll take a muffin please.”

“You got it.”

Miles walks over to the counter, and while he’s away, she allows herself to look him over. He’s cute, wearing black trousers and a baby blue cardigan. It’s clear he’s comfortable with his style by how he carries himself. Y/N knows if she wasn’t trying to get over her feelings, she would have given him a chance, but with her going back on tour, she isn’t ready for that.

When Miles returns to the table with his drink and two muffins, she asks him about his work and family. She discovers he’s an art curator and is working on his next collection. He shares he has two older siblings and two younger, making him the middle child. His mother tries to make it up by having lunch with him each week, but it’s easy to be overlooked as a middle child. Y/N is intrigued with him and knows Miles would be a good friend; if anything, she thinks Felix would get on with him better than she did.

Y/N realized it was her turn to talk about herself, but she didn’t really like stating her job. Sometimes, people judged her, and she honestly didn’t want things to get worse with Miles, but it seemed Y/N’s luck would not improve because when the door opened, a familiar face walked in. Familiar brown curls sticking out from his trucker hat, Harry’s casual wear had always been comfortable but stylish. He always tended to run cold, so he wore an oversized green coat that reminded her of the time he threw it over her when he saw she fell asleep in his green room after his soundcheck. Y/N looked away before he could see her, but Y/N was right by an open space, easy to view by the counter. Harry could spot anything and everyone, and he was never one to be rude and ignore someone, but she hoped that would change today.

She turned back to her conversation, but in the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching. Y/N held her breath, hoping he would walk past her, but stopped right in front of her.

“Y/N.” Oh, how she missed hearing her name falling from his lips.

She looks up and finds him staring at her with a timid smile. Y/N gets up and offers him a hug that he quickly accepts. They keep it short, though she feels his hand linger at the small of her back, almost like he didn’t want her to move away, but she wasn’t alone.

“Harry, this is uh…Miles. Miles, this is Harry.”

Harry doesn’t ask anything. He simply tells Miles it’s great to meet him. Miles looks at Y/N in confusion, but she brushes him off. “How’d you meet?” Harry asks, intrigued.

“Our mum’s set us up on a date,” Miles explains for her. “It’s actually our first time meeting.”

Y/N isn’t sure why Miles shared that with Harry, but she can’t blame it. Harry has this trusting aura that makes people want to tell him all their darkest secrets. Y/N would know, seeing as she has shared parts of herself with Harry that no one else has seen, not even her best friends.

Harry nods. She can’t seem to read him at all. His pseudonym name is called, and he uses that as his exit. “Well, it was good to see you.”

“You too, H. I’ll see you soon.”

He nods, giving his goodbye to Miles as well. Y/N watches him until he’s out of the coffee shop and no longer in her view from the mirrors. She finds Miles studying her and knows he might have been able to pick up on the tension between her and Harry.

“Do you want to tell me about that? You don’t have to.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “To start, I kinda have a crush on him, but he’s my boss.”

Miles' eyes widened in shock, “Harry Styles is your boss!” He was not expecting that, but she could tell he was intrigued. His response sends her into a laughing fit, and knows that while she won’t be dating Miles, he will make a good friend.

Y/N felt her break was long and too short at the same time. While she was able to use the time to re-energize, she also wrote a few more songs she wanted to share with her band before booking time for studio sessions. Y/N knew studio time would be hard to find, but she was determined to do it between breaks, even if all she got was two hours.

They had been rehearsing on the stage when she heard a clap from their final song for the set. Y/N turned and spotted the Love Band. She set down her guitar and rushed into Pauli’s arms. They spun her around, laughing as she blubbered on how she missed them. Pauli set her down, giving everyone a chance to say hello. Hanging in the back of the group were Mitch and Harry. Y/N knew she would need to have a conversation with Harry soon, but for now, she would bask in the joy of being back on tour and sharing the stage with him.

“Harry! Mitch!”

Harry looked surprised to see her look happy, calling for him. He sent her a small wave, but Y/N was going in for the hug. He basked in the warmth she had to share with him. Being back in the same space with Y/N was comforting after seeing her out on a date a few weeks ago. It made him feel awful, and he couldn’t help that he made Y/N feel the same with his last fling.

She let go of him, moving on to Mitch. Y/N was chatting away, telling them she had gotten a new guitar and was excited to play it tonight. Soon enough, Mitch and her were lost in their own conversation about lyrics she had written and how she was stuck on finding a melody that would work. Mitch promised to have a look and give her any ideas that would come up.

“You’re still welcome to use the piano, Y/N. I know how much that helped before,” Harry offered.

Y/N fell quiet because while she knew Harry was still there, she didn’t feel overwhelmed because she wasn’t conversing with him, but now all his attention was on her. “Thank you. I appreciate it,” she mumbles, knowing she wouldn’t take him up on it.

Harry nods, and he thinks better of it while he’s about to excuse himself. “Y/N, do you—would it be okay if we talked in private.”

Mitch excuses himself, leaving it all up to Y/N. She has no idea what this conversation will entail but owes it to herself to hear him out. “Lead the way, boss.”

Harry looks pleased and walks off the stage, leading them down some stairs and into the pit, but he doesn’t stop there. He makes her climb a few more stairs, landing them in tonight's lower bowl section of the venue.

Y/N whistles, taking in the view from the distance. “Quite a view. I might have to watch the show from here one night.”

He laughs, “you let me know, and we can make it happen. We’ll make sure you’re not mobbed.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please, your fans wouldn’t be able to recognize me.”

“Beg to differ. There are more signs for you each night.” Y/N waves him off. “They’ve started to make Tik Tok edits about you.” Harry doesn’t share how he knows, but some nights over the break, he spent time watching them. It made him miss her more, seeing her running around the stage like it was hers. She had the crowd in the palm of her hand, and she didn’t even know it.

“Please, stop!” Y/N laughs. “My ego can only take so much.”

Y/N had forgotten how easy it was with Harry, but being with him now made her wish things hadn’t changed. She had to go an entire month without hearing from him because her feelings were hurt over something that should not have bothered her.

“Y/N, I am sorry for how we left things in Japan.”

She grimaces, “me too.” Harry quickly disagrees, but Y/N reminds him of all his unanswered texts.

“You’re forgiven,” he tells her.

While Y/N appreciates it, a big topic needs to be addressed.

Harry takes a deep breath before turning his body to look at her. “I know my actions and words might have confused you, but I’m here to be honest. I won’t lie to you, not now, not ever. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Words Y/N. I need to hear you say it.”

“I understand. You won’t lie to me. I trust you,” Y/N truly believes her words.

He dips his head in acknowledgment. “I like you, and I went on to do something stupid. The girl you saw me with is named Victoria. She–well, to put it lightly, she was a hookup, and she’d join me from time to time. When you saw me that night, she was surprising me because she was going through a breakup and needed comfort, and well–I felt rejected and fell into her. I’m not blaming you–I know I could have said no, but I was too overwhelmed that I preferred to do something to disappoint myself and you. My therapist said if I had talked about it with someone–anyone, this wouldn’t have happened, but I’m not too good with words most times.”

Y/N offers him a smile, “doing pretty good now.”

Harry reaches for her hand, and Y/N lets him take it. She can see he needs the support. “I got a lot to work through, but I’m better and want to be a better partner and person. I want to be someone worthy of you.”

“Harry,” Y/N breathes out. “That's–you’re…that’s not why I didn’t confess my feelings. You’re amazing. I would be so lucky to explore a relationship with you.”

He looks at her, confused, “then what is it?”

“You’re my boss. You can say under technicalities you aren’t, but this is your sold-out world tour. I’m making a name for myself, doing what I love. While being an opening act for you has been a dream come true, being tied to you as your girlfriend will put my name out there, but not how I want. Do you understand?” Y/N hopes she got her point across, never wanting Harry to think he wasn’t enough.

Harry sighs because he knows where she is coming from. He wished he didn’t; he wished he could beg her to say yes to dating him to see where it could lead, but Harry knows how much she loves being on stage, and he would never dare threaten to take that from her or anything that comes with it.

“I understand. I do. I like you, I do. While it sucked seeing you dating someone else, I respect you. I still want to be your friend.” Harry rubs a hand under his scuffed jaw. “I miss talking with you about each show at night.”

Y/N squeezes his hands. “Friends, we’re friends. I hope you’re okay with me being in your life, even as a friend.”

Harry stands up, bringing her with him, and wraps her in a tight hug. He breathes her in. She has a distinct smell of roses and vanilla. It’s perfectly her. He wished he could bottle up the scent and take it with him wherever he went so that it hopefully would make missing her easier.

“I’ll always be your friend,” he assures her.

He can be friends with her. Harry knows it could lead him to heartbreak, but it would be worth it for Y/N.

The next few shows fly by, and Y/N and Harry easily fall into a routine again. Y/N joins Harry for his morning workouts, but Brad made her a workout to suit her likes. While Harry loves intense core workout, Y/N loves to stretch. There are days when all three go off to do a Pilates class. Mainly, Y/N does her yoga in a corner and joins Harry for his core sets.

From there, they’ll do breakfast with their bandmates, sometimes together, and sometimes go their separate ways. They have limited their time together alone because Y/N knows her feelings for Harry are only growing, and Harry wants to respect Y/N and her boundaries. Y/N shared with her bandmates how she felt, and they understood, except Quinn, who told her she should go for it. Everyone looked at Quinn, shocked, but he just shook his head, telling her to really think about this because, from his point of view, Y/N and Harry were perfect for each other. Y/N let Quinn’s words ring through her mind for some time, but Y/N was nervous about taking that next step. She wasn’t sure how it would work. She loves working with Harry, and she knows he’s taking a break after, but what if he doesn’t like that his partner is never home, just like him. Y/N loves being with her family, but she’s never happier than when she is on stage. Y/N can’t seem to take that step just yet.

In Scotland, Y/N finally decided to return to using Harry’s piano. She initially felt strange but realized she had been missing it for some time. Y/N walks in and is happy to find it open. Y/N runs a hand over the smooth wood before taking a seat. She sets down her old journal and opens it up to the last page she wrote.

Y/N lets her hands rest on the keys before going into C major. She repeats it a few times until she feels ready. It was a slow melody that went hand in hand with her lyrics. She began to sing in the room with only the sound of the piano.

Look at me. I feel homesick

Want my dog in the door

And the light in the kitchen

A creek behind her made her jump up suddenly, hands shooting out to grab her notebook to her chest. Harry steps back, hands up in defense. There is an apologetic look on his face.

“I knocked, but don’t think you heard.”

Y/N feels her face heat up and knows she tends to get lost in her music. “Sorry, it was empty when I came in. Did not expect you to come in. I can leave if you are planning to use the space. It is yours, after all.”

Harry brushes her off, walks into the room, and gestures for her to sit back on the bench with him. He scoots in close, wanting no space between them. “What did you play just now? I’ve never heard a tune so mellow yet sad.”

“Think I wrote my album closer,” she confesses.

The joy on Harry’s face is apparent. “Shit, really! That’s wonderful.”

“It’s--gosh, how I explain it. I felt like floating, and this melody really carried me through. You can find an underlying of it through a few of the other songs,” she can’t help but express to him

Harry sits back, impressed, “is the album complete?”

“Think so. I need to go into the studio and finish a few, maybe decide on one or two. Then, all good to go. Think all that’s missing is a name.”

“Y/N’s house,” he jokes.

“Ah, wouldn’t that be nice. I have an idea, but I need to be sure.”

“Will you play it for me?”

Y/N knows what he’s asking, and part of her wants to say no, but no one has heard the song. Not her bandmates, not her co-writers, not her producer, and certainly not her mother. Y/N knows if she shares this with Harry, it will change the entire album for her. When she thinks back on this song, it will now have a whole new meaning.

“It’s six minutes.”

“I have all the time in the world,” he promises her.

While they both know it’s not true, she appreciates the sentiment as they’re both set to perform tonight. Y/N takes a deep breath and, with trembling hands, begins to play her song for him. Y/N drags the intro out for a little longer before letting herself sing these lyrics she’s been carrying around for weeks. Y/N has her eyes closed, swaying as she lets herself tell this story of being exhausted and lonely for being away from everything she loves while feeling at home and her most genuine self. It tells the story of how she can grow even when experiencing so much change while being entirely on her own.

I feel like myself right now.

I feel like myself right now

Mmm.

Y/N opens her eyes, looks at Harry, and finds him crying. She sits up straight, practically pushing herself to sit in his lap as she wipes away his tears. “No, no, what are you doing? Please don’t cry.”

“You made me cry,” he mumbles while Y/N keeps her hands on his cheeks, brushing away his tears with her thumbs. “It was a fucking brilliant song.”

Y/N feels her face warm, “you think so?”

He nods, “think my tears say enough.”

“You could have cried because it was awful.”

Harry bursts out laughing, “absolutely not.”

Y/N wants to lean in and kiss him to thank him for his kind words, but he doesn’t deserve her confusion. “It’s the perfect way to end my album.”

“I agree.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “you haven’t heard the whole thing.”

Harry shrugs, “don’t have to.” The flattery is becoming too much, but she doesn’t want to move away from him. “You’ll remember this moment when you win album of the year next awards season.”

“Shut up, those are stupid.”

“Hey now! I happen to own a few.”

Her hands are still on his face, his tears now dried up, but she doesn’t move away. Y/N is enjoying this too much, and a part of her knows Harry is, too. “I don’t do it for the awards. Music is something I’ve always had, and if I can share it with a few others and they find some type of meaning from it, then it means I’ve done a job well done.”

“Fucking well said, Y/N.”

Y/N giggles, “You can open for me on my tour after I win my Grammy,” she teases.

Harry places a hand over his heart, “it would be my greatest honor.”

“Shut up, you dork.”

Y/N finally lets her hands drop, and Harry takes a second to hide his disappointment.

“Does this mean we can hang out with a buffer now?”

Y/N furrows her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side. “Sorry?”

Harry pinches her thigh lightly, making her jump closer to him, almost losing her balance. He wraps his hand around her waist, holding her tight against his chest. “Come on, we’ve been hanging out together, but someone always seems to be with us. If it’s not Brad, it’s Anthony; if it’s not Pauli, it’s Quinn. It’s been never-ending.”

They didn’t mean to do it, but Y/N knows she’s missed their inside jokes and private late-night talks when Harry tells everyone he goes to bed early when, in reality, he’s chatting Y/N’s ear off.

“I guess we can go back to late-night pillow talks.”

“And exploring the city?”

“Course, I missed your Google facts.”

“Heey,” he yells, offended.

“Can’t deny it. I saw you do it many times.”

“Trying to impress you,” he mutters. “Clearly, all I do is fail.”

“Stick to music. You’ll go far in life,” Y/N laughs as he rolls his eyes at her.

“Haha, it means we start right now. Found this old thrift shop nearby.” He pulls her with him as he drags her out, careful to ensure they aren’t caught because if word is out Harry has gone without security, it could be madness.

“We’ve got a show in a few hours.”

“They’ve got beautiful skirts. I called and got pictures sent over.”

Y/N sighs. He knows her too well. “Lead the way, H.”

Harry shoots her a charming smile, and Y/N knows she would have followed him wherever he asked her to without a second thought. She knew she was in safe hands with him.

Harry and Y/N had fun exploring Amsterdam for a few days before heading to Ireland. They had each planned an activity and a place they wanted to eat. Sometimes, they disagreed on food because of Harry’s eating choices, while Y/N would eat anything and everything as long as dessert was always included. Harry thought it was too much, but when he found out how much Y/N enjoyed it, he said yes and ensured she had something sweet, even if he didn’t get anything.

Jeff would tell Harry off for going without security or someone for the team but brushed him off because he didn’t need anyone intruding on his time with Y/N. He loved spending hours with her uninterrupted, touring cities he had never once had the chance to explore. While he enjoyed those days, Harry also loved show days because he got to see Y/N dance around on stage. She went from singing in sweats to her favorite mini skirts for showtime, and when Y/N decided to pair it with a baby tee, Harry had to think of world hunger and puppies to make his hard-on go away. He knows he should look away, but she captivates him every time she’s on stage, dancing and spinning around to sitting on the edge of the stage. Y/N occasionally brought fans on stage, but when that happened, he would be taken further backstage for his safety; he knew those fans were there for her at that time while he was forgotten.

Tonight was a big night. Harry would be playing at Slane Castle. Harry knew it would be special because not everyone is asked to perform here. Harry had spent most of his time today with his crew, psyching Mitch up for his debut performance. Many didn’t know Mitch had created an album and were even more surprised when he was announced as another opener for tonight. Y/N was still at the forefront of his mind, knowing he had to wish her luck for tonight. He’d be deeper in the audience tonight to watch all his friends open this monumental show for him.

Y/N would be a fool to not know what it means to be playing Slane Castle in Ireland today. Y/N’s nerves were insane today. She knew she wasn’t nervous. No, she was anxious. When she was younger, her biggest fear was disappointing her mother. Y/N hated failing others, while her mom did an excellent job of assuring she didn’t have to carry all that pressure on her shoulders. Sometimes, it came back, and she couldn’t shake it.

She had spent thirty minutes on the phone with her mother, and nothing helped. Y/N wasn’t worried about disappointing herself. No, this–tonight was bigger than her. Quinn and Felix could tell something was up, but they couldn’t help, not when June kept taking off a piece of clothing when she saw the time move closer to when they were meant to take the stage.

June was on a clothes removal band and couldn’t go to the restroom alone or even for a snack. It was honestly quite funny. It allowed Y/N to momentarily take her mind off the anxiety lingering in her body. When Y/N saw she had half an hour and her handshake got worse, she felt her throat swell up and excused herself. Y/N had no idea where to go or where to hide. She simply walked and ended up in a secluded corner where she tried to center herself before going on stage.

Harry walks into Y/N’s green room excited to see her, but all he finds are her three bandmates playing cards while June sits in a robe. He doesn’t bother questioning it and instead asks for Y/N.

They all turn to look at each other before Quinn answers. “She left like ten minutes ago. She said she needed a breather.”

That makes sense; he hates that he doesn’t know where exactly she went. Felix pulls her phone out and airdrops a location to Harry. “That’s her exact location. You should have her share her location with you. We can always see where she is.”

Not a bad idea at all. He wouldn’t mind Y/N knowing where he was, especially if seeing where she was on a map could bring him the smallest of comfort. Harry thanks them and walks back out. He walks for around ten minutes until he reaches a secluded corner in the grass. Y/N is sitting on an oversized denim jacket while she stares at her hands.

“Y/N,” he calls out softly to not startle her. She lifts her head and offers him a shaky grin. He can instantly tell something’s wrong. “Hi, love. Been looking for you.”

She shrugs as if to say she’s here. Harry steps closer but is careful not to invade her space. “Came by to wish you luck.”

Harry regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth because Y/N looked away from him, burying her face in her hands. He heard her cries, hurried to sit down, and scooped her in his lap. He rocked her back and forth as he tried to get her to stop. He hated seeing her upset. Y/N was always the epitome of strength, and this had him worried. Y/N expressed that she had a hard time going on stage, but she said it was ages ago.

He whispered sweet nothings, hoping to calm her down, but it wasn’t working. “Please tell me how I can help. Please,” he begged.

“I-I-I don’t w-want to disappoint you,” she cries out. Her tears keep falling, and seeing her like this breaks his heart.

“Hey, hey. I got you.” Harry brings her close, letting her rest her head on his chest. “You’re okay. I got you.”

“It’s a big night for you, and I want to make you proud. I-I can’t disappoint you,” she repeats.

Harry hates that she thinks she can do anything to disappoint him. He pulls her away from his chest because he needs her to understand that she can do no wrong in his eyes. “Love, will you look at me?”

Y/N lifts her head, and her teary eyes meet his warm ones. He hates that she’s doubting herself. “Tonight is the same as any other.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not. No–”

“Shh—yes, it is. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?” She mumbles.

Harry brushes her loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Because I’ll still be watching. I will be cheering you on as I do every night. You make every night special, and I know tonight will be no different.”

“You have too much faith in me,” she mutters against his shirt.

“I always will. I’m a big fan of you, Y/N, not only as a person but also as an artist. I’ve seen how hard you work. How you constantly want to improve each song and each set. You want everyone in that audience to have fun even if they aren’t here for you. This is a large crowd, but if you close your eyes, it’s just you and the band. That is what you can control. So, tonight, when you get on stage, whether you sing one song or five or if you mess up a guitar note or you change your setlist. I can promise you I will be proud.”

Y/N sniffles; her tears have dried up. “Harry,” she whines. Y/N can’t find any words and throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Harry wraps his arms around her waist and holds her tight. It’s a comfort they have been both seeking all day. Y/N then realized that all the anxiety she faced was because of Harry. She admires and respects him and wouldn’t dare want to mess up his big night.

“Every night is special. Tonight is slightly different only because Mitch is also performing,” Harry teases, hoping to make her laugh, and it works. He feels her laugh move through his chest and settle deep in his heart. “It’s another stop of Love on Tour, and then it’s home shows. Now that should scare you,” he jokes. “My family will be there.”

Y/N knows those words should frighten her, but if anything, it brings her comfort. Harry’s family and hers will meet for the first time, which she had been looking forward to. Honestly, if her mum gives the seal of approval to Harry, it might indeed be over for her. Although that’s something to worry about in a few days, for now, her focus is on putting on a show to remember the thousands of people at Slane Castle.

“Do you want to pick my outfit tonight?” Y/N offers, in exchange for him helping her avoid a panic attack, her hands playing with the ends of his hair.

Harry lights up, “you mean it?”

Y/N laughs, “it’s got to match my ribbons for tonight.”

Harry pouts, “what do you take me for?”

She shrugs.

“I’ll have you know I co-hosted the Met Gala.”

Y/N wags her eyebrows, “fancy.”

“Shoes?”

“Not up for debate.”

Harry waves her off, “good enough for me.”

They walk back together, hand in hand, as Harry goes over possible outfit combinations he has in mind for her. He really wants to see her in leather pants because he knows it will hug her nicely. Her black bows sit nicely in her hair as she does her makeup. June made her do an eye mask for ten minutes to bring down the puffiness in her eyes. It worked, mostly. Y/N did a shimmery eyeshadow and her eyeliner. All that was left was her outfit.

Y/N walked into the bathroom, where Harry told her it was all laid out. She shimmied into her sequined flares and slipped on the simple black baby tee. She ruffled her hair a bit, and overall, Y/N was happy with the look for tonight. She walked out to find everyone waiting for her. She did a spin and got lots of whistles and claps. Y/N told them all to shut up and to get to the stage. She lingered behind with Harry. The look he was giving her was anything but friendly.

“You look beautiful.”

“Might have to hire you as my stylist,” she jokes.

“No, I’d have you wear skirts every night.”

“But not tonight?” Y/N asks confused.

“Wanted something different tonight.”

Y/N doesn’t argue with him. She did give him a full range of her clothes. Y/N hears her name being called and knows she needs to get her mic pack.

“I’ll see you after?” Y/N checks.

“Of course.”

They stand there staring at each other. Y/N, for a moment, thinks Harry will kiss her, and she knows she will let him. Instead, he does something that makes her catch her breath. He steps close and leans down to press a kiss on her forehead. “Good luck, Y/N.”

It’s a simple gesture, but it has her heart racing. “Thank you, H.”

Y/N hurries off after and thanks her engineer for her mic. They hook it to the side of her pants, and Y/N jumps to test its security. So far, so good. Y/N looks behind her one last time and finds Harry giving her a thumbs-up. She could do this. Y/N would go on stage and have fun.

From the moment Y/N got on stage to when she got off, Y/N could not stop smiling. The crowd was incredible, singing her most popular songs back to her. She could not stop thanking them for a fantastic night.

“Before I play you one last song and finally leave this stage, there is one last thank you. To Harry, thank you for asking me to be a part of such a special day. It’s one I will never forget. Thank you for the kindness, but most importantly, thank you for sharing your fans. They have been the best crowds to play to. This one's for you.”

Y/N had never done a dedication before, but it felt right tonight.

In the crowd, Harry was watching Y/N’s set, and while he didn’t need a thank you, it meant a lot coming from Y/N. Harry had no idea Brad was recording him or that he caught Harry blushing as Y/N dedicated the night's final song to him. His friends knew teasing was always okay with Harry, but he looked transfixed, staring at Y/N serenading the crowd they knew could wait until later.

Y/N had the time of her life dancing with Felix, Quinn, and June to Harry’s set. She laughed loudly when he got called a slag, cheered when he thanked his band, tried to hide when he thanked her and the other openers and cried as he played “Fine Line.” It was a perfect show, everything Harry deserved.

While it was late, Y/N and Harry still hung out, talking about their favorite bits when they reached their hotel rooms. Y/N loved it when a fan shouted they loved her during a song transition. Harry thought “Kiwi” went insane tonight. Y/N recounted the slag story, and Harry let her laugh it up. He teased her, saying he noticed when she tripped over her words when introducing her band. It was every moment that made the night special. While they had a few days off before Wembley, Y/N knew it was time to head for bed as it would be a travel day. Y/N couldn’t wait to hug her mum and knew Harry felt the same.

Harry lingered outside her door as if he didn’t want to leave. Y/N wanted him to stay, but it would be crossing the boundaries they set for each other. Y/N knew she had a lot to figure out, but day by day, everything became more apparent.

“Good night, Y/N love.”

Y/N steps on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, H.” Harry walked away from her with a cheesy grin on her face. As Y/N closed the door, she knew one thing: that she liked Harry.

She is head over heels for him. Y/N knew the ball was in her court. She had to make a move if she wanted anything to happen. It seemed the hometown shows were about to get interesting.

Y/N had dreamed about playing at Wembley Stadium. While it technically wasn’t for her, she would play in a sold-out stadium. Y/N would open the show for four nights. She’d get to play here and dream of a future where she sold out her favorite stadium in her hometown.

She was in the middle of the walkway, where Harry sings “Matilda” each night. Y/N doesn’t hear the camera shutter or the footsteps approaching her. Y/N is simply taking it all in, wanting to remember the stadium empty before she sees it filled up.

“Do you still dream about nights like tonight?” Y/N turns her head when she hears her mother’s gentle voice.

“Mum!” Y/N shoots up from where she’s sitting and runs into her open arms. Y/N stands taller than her mother but never feels smaller than being wrapped tightly in her familiar embrace. “Thought you were coming until later.”

Reina laughed, “Wanted to spend the day with you, oh, and Quinn promised we’d catch up on gossip.”

Y/N shook her head, “did he bring you out here?”

“Sure did. I needed to say hi to my girl before gossiping my life away.”

“Is it book club?”

Reina sighs dramatically, “it always is.”

Y/N and her mum chatter as they make their way backstage. She’s got family members and friends coming over the four days, but her mum promised to be at all four. Her childhood best friends, Tiffany and Elena. Her cousins and nephews were coming, even her Aunt and Uncles. Y/N reminded everyone she was simply the opening act, but no one cared; they were all proud of her.

She had introduced her mother to nearly everyone except her favorite person. Y/N found Harry with his headphones in but took them off when he noticed her.

“Y/N,” he greets with a cheerful smile. He quickly notices the woman beside her and introduces himself as Harry, a friend of Y/N’s.

“My mum, Reina,” Y/N tells him.

Harry grins, “I see the resemblance. We know Y/N will look just as amazing as you in the future.”

Reina can’t stop smiling, “dear, you didn’t tell me how cheeky this one is.”

“He’s a flirt, Mumma. Nothing is stopping him.”

“Oi, you see what I have to deal with,” Harry teases. “I only flirt with pretty girls named Y/N.”

“And who’s from London,” her mum adds.

Harry points a finger at Reina before turning to look at Y/N, “I like her. I really do.”

“Keep her,” Y/N tells him. “I can only take so much teasing.”

“Oh, darling. You can never get rid of me.”

Harry throws a hand over her shoulder, bringing her close to his side. “Like you too much to go through life without you.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but her Mumma can see how flustered she has become. “Come on, I’ll take you to meet my Mum and sister. They were set to arrive any minute now.”

It’s Y/N's turn to perk up, “your Mum’s here.”

Harry feels his heart swell at her excitement to meet his mother. He has no idea what he and Y/N are, but they’re certainly more than friends.

Y/N spent the entire afternoon chatting with Anne and Gemma. She didn’t mean to monopolize her time, but Anne would keep the conversation going, and Y/N was enjoying it too much to remember she had a different job to do.

“Y/N, babe, we’ve got sound check,” Felix interrupted, apologizing to Anne.

Harry slipped into the spot next to Anne, “yeah, Y/N, leave my mum alone and go work.”

Before Y/N could rebuttal, Anne slapped his knee lightly, chastising him to be polite. Harry winked in Y/N’s direction. She excused herself and promised Anne she’d see her around for the next few days. Y/N walked out to find the band waiting for her. Y/N looked back one last time to check in on her mother and was happy to see her wrapped up in a conversation with Pauli and Mitch.

Quinn smirked when she made her way towards them. “Take it your mother-in-law likes you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. She slapped his shoulder, telling him to shut up.

“Wembley, Wembley, I don’t know if you know this, but London is where I grew up. So, boss man, these are all my hometown shows, too.” Y/N laughed when the crowd cheered. “My mom took me to concerts with her because she preferred to take me with her to create these beautiful memories together instead of me staying home with a relative. So, if you enjoy my music and are happy I pursued this dream, you can thank Reina. Mum, you’re my best friend and my number one supporter. Thank you for everything. I love you.”

Y/N turned to see the screens where her mother was shown wiping her tears and blowing kisses to the screen. Y/N saw Tiffany reach over and give her a cuddle and knew she’d be in trouble for making her cry, but it was worth it.

“My name is Y/N, and it’s been a pleasure playing for you. Here’s one last song. Good night, Wembley. You’re in for a hell of a show with Harry Styles, I promise.”

Y/N ran off stage and straight into the arms of the first person she saw, which happened to be Harry. While she didn’t see him before going on stage because he had been out cheering on Madi, he was now looking at her proudly. Harry spun her around, and all Y/N wanted to do was reach down and give him a kiss. It took everything in her not to do it, especially when surrounded by hundreds of people.

“You were amazing,” he breathed as he set her down.

“They’re fucking amazing,” Y/N told him, pointing out to the crowd. Y/N rambled on about how the crowd was like no other, that the energy they brought was nothing she had ever felt. “I didn’t want to leave the stage.”

Harry laughs loudly, “should have stayed there think I could have watched you all night.”

“Awe, afraid you can’t surpass my amazingness,” she playfully mocks, knowing very well he’d knock this out of the park. Harry made a sold-out stadium feel like the most intimate show each night.

Harry can’t stop looking away from her beaming face. It brings him so much joy to see her like this each night. All he wants to do is celebrate with her, showering her with kisses and telling her how proud he is of her. Instead, he lets her go and tells her he'll see her at the end of the night. There would be no late-night talks tonight as they’d be going to their respective home. “Best of luck, H.”

He watches her walk away and mentally prepares for his first night of four in Wembley.

Wembley had been perfect each night. His family and Y/N are getting on swimmingly. He hoped for it, but seeing it in person gave him hope that he and Y/N could pursue something. With a day off in between, he was back. He knew the end of the tour was nearing, and his time with Y/N was limited, but watching her on stage each night stopped him from doing anything because he preferred to have her as a friend rather than nothing at all.

Y/N was in a red skirt tonight with a white top with embezzled cherries scattered around. He remembered her mentioning it was his saddest song. It’s not one he would sing again, but he wondered if she was ever in his show's audience to hear it live. The ribbons were cherry red and long. Slowly, as she danced around, they were coming undone. One moment, she was in front of the stage, and the next, she was dancing her way down his long catwalk. She usually kept to the stage but used more and more over time. Tonight, she sang an entire song to his fans, who sang her songs right back to her. Harry knew having Y/N as an opener would be nice, but it’s nothing he ever imagined.

“Wembley, I know you didn’t come here to see me, but thank you to those who sang along. I have one last song, and soon enough, the man of the hour will grace you with his presence. A thank you to my wonderful band. They truly are my best friends. Give it up for Quinny Quinn Quinn on bass. He truly loves all the edits you’ve tagged him in. There is Felix on guitar and the occasional tambourine. Felix always has a new hair color and keeps us whole. Lastly, this band’s hero is Junie. Junie loves the drums and loves me the most,” Y/N teases as Quinn rolls his eyes at her. “Alright, this is–for me?” Y/N asks confused. She bends down, and the security hands her the bouquet of flowers. It’s a mix of pinks and yellows. It makes her tear up. “You sure?” The fan nods, telling her she brought them specially for her. Y/N holds them close to her chest. “I love you. This has made my entire night.” Y/N shows them off to her bandmates, who are all awed by the kind gesture. She places them by her water so she doesn’t forget them. “Alright, one last thank you to you all. This is the Band and I. Good night, Wembley. I love you!”

She hurries off stage with her bouquet in hand. June commented it was a kind gesture. It reminded Y/N how fans travel to see their artist live in concert. Y/N knows she had a sold-out tour when she finished Love on tour, and while it won’t start for a few months, this time is something she won’t ever forget. She’s grateful for the experience, grateful she gets to observe how the crew is treated, and how much comradery there is on this tour. She’s heard the stories of friendship blossoming. It’s beautiful, and now that she’s gotten a glimpse, she’s happy to be a part of but something she wants to take forward with her.

Y/N drops off her flowers and goes in search of Harry.

Y/N likes Harry.

She likes spending time with him and likes to sit in silence with him, but mostly, she likes hearing him talk and tell stories. Y/N has never felt at peace with a partner or felt the infamous belly full of butterflies, but she feels them both with Harry. She doesn’t even know when she began falling. All she knows is that she’s ready to tell Harry.

While she wants to share how she feels, she’s mostly dying to kiss him. Their tension is thick, and Y/N is ready to cut through it. She did not think Love on Tour would bring her love, but after hearing Mitch and Sarah’s story, she knows anything is possible and that Harry loves playing matchmaker. He’s a big romantic, which is something everyone has told her.

She finds him in the piano room, playing an all too familiar melody. “You know, some would call that plagiarism.”

Harry’s hands fall away from the keys, but he doesn’t turn to look at her. “It’s my favorite song.”

“Not even released. I barely named it,” she tells him truthfully.

He shrugs, “special enough to me.”

“Should have named it Harry’s song instead.”

That gets him a look; his cheeks are red from her comment, and it settles Y/N’s nerves. Harry stands up, and she knows he wants to hug her. While she usually is eager to be wrapped in his warm embrace, she didn’t change coming off stage today and fears she might smell. “Think I might stink.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “stop it and get in here.”

It is no use fighting it when she only wants to be in his arms. Y/N let herself melt against him, her hands resting around his waist.

“Quite incredible out there. Almost got jealous when you got handed those flowers.”

Y/N smirks and pulls back the tiniest bit to see the pout on his lips. “Almost?”

Harry huffs out a sigh. “Fine, I did.”

She grins, “There’s no need to.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re the only person who’s got my eye,” she tells him honestly.

Harry’s face turns red, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he pulls her in closer, resting his chin on her head. Y/N struggles to work up the courage to say those three words. She didn’t realize that the fear of rejection could win out when she really liked someone.

She decides to go for it.

“Harry, will you do something for me if I ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely,” he rebuttals.

Y/N pulls away from him, and he lets her. Her hands stay rooted on his waist, letting him know she doesn’t want him to go far.

“Kiss me, please,” Y/N whispers out into the room. Harry was shocked at her request. He stayed staring at her, unsure if he had misheard, but Y/N repeated herself one more time. “Will you please kiss me?”

He had been waiting for this moment when everything would shift for them, and now that it was here, he was overwhelmed. Harry wanted to kiss her but didn’t know what it would mean for her because he knew what it meant to him. There was a part of him that knew how she felt, but he was dying to hear it.

Instead of questioning it, Harry decides to lean in Y/N, lifting her head to allow their lips to touch, but Harry keeps just enough distance between them to see if she really wants this. Harry lets their lips brush, leaving the ball in her court. He was tempted to go all in but needed to know she wanted him. Y/N was in a daze; she had never felt like she could pass out from a simple touch, but with Harry, it had been like that from the start, from small touches to holding hands. Y/N knew precisely what he was doing and knew exactly what she wanted.

Y/N connected their lips, and she felt fireworks go off. She doesn’t know why she stayed away for so long. Now, she never wants to go without him. Harry raises his hands to cup her face, taking control of the kiss. It is gentle and full of care. She never wanted it to end, and it seemed neither did Harry. Harry was getting lost in the taste of Y/N. He knew he didn’t care what happened as long as he got to keep her in the end.

He pulled away breathless, but Y/N pulled him back in for another kiss before he could say anything. It went on for what felt like hours but could have only been a few minutes. There was a loud pounding on the door that made the spring apart. Y/N gazed at his swollen lips and knew she must look the same, if not worse.

“Y/N–” He shakes his head, not able to wrap everything around his head

“Shh…” Y/N doesn’t want this moment to end, although she knows it must. “We’ll talk later, I promise.”

Harry frowns. He doesn’t want to give her the chance to change her mind and reject him. He wants her, simple as that. “But–”

“I promise I won’t change my mind. I’d tell you right now, but I wouldn’t let you go for the rest of the night if I did.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he confesses.

Y/N chuckles and presses a final kiss to his lips. “I’ll be cheering you on, popstar.”

Harry smirks, “dedicating tonight to you.”

“Menace.”

The show is a beautiful success. Harry spots Y/N in the crowd tonight and spends too much time singing to her. Not that many fans pick up on it. He wouldn’t mind anyone finding out, but she’s all his right now. He runs off stage and straight into his dressing room. He’s got a car waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to Y/N. His mom trails in, followed by Jeff and a few others. Harry keeps his door open to keep an eye on her. Harry packs up a few of his belongings, knowing he’ll return tomorrow for a final night. Harry is listening to Jeff drone on about tomorrow and the surprises he has planned when he catches sight of Y/N’s purple bow breezing by. He doesn’t even apologize to Jeff; he runs out after her.

“Y/N!” He calls out.

Y/N stops and smiles. “Hi you! Nice job out there.”

Harry blushes because, as confident as he was on stage dancing for her, there’s a difference between being dressed down and having his crush tell him he did amazing on stage. It means everything knowing she enjoys the shows each night. Harry loves seeing her sing on stage each night and is thankful he gets to enjoy it for a few more weeks.

“I–I’ve got to get going but wanted to see you.”

Y/N reaches up and cups his cheek. Harry leans into her touch, neither caring if someone spots them nor knowing they are in safe hands with the crew around them. “I hope you have a good night. I’ll see you here tomorrow, ready for one final show. I hear it’s going to be the best one yet.”

“Is there something you want to see me play?”

Y/N offers him a soft smile, shaking her head. “All I want is to see you happy on stage.”

While the sentiment is appreciated, Harry knows her words will be on repeat as he falls asleep tonight. He wants to give her something special tomorrow. “I’ll find out your favorite song,” he promises.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “H, I mean it. You being happy on stage is all I could ask for.”

Harry turns his head and kisses the palm of her hand. “I’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

She stares at him lovingly, knowing they both have to go and get a good night's rest. They’ll be apart for a few hours, and tomorrow, be back together to share a few more kisses.

“Good night, you.”

Harry leans in and kisses her cheek. “Night, sweetheart.”

The final night at Wembley had arrived, and she was ready. Y/N knew Harry had most of his family and friends here, which made her slightly nervous because she knew he would want her to meet them but also knew most of them wouldn’t show up for lil ol’ her as an opener. Y/N, when she arrived at the arena, was separated from her band and found at Harry’s side. Harry selfishly wanted her to stay with him; he even sneaked them off to a hidden corner of the stadium, where he kissed her breathless. He promised only a few minutes, which turned out to be thirty. Y/N showed up to her soundcheck with bruised lips and a wide smile. The band decided to tease her later when Harry wasn’t around, seeing they also had lots of questions.

“Yo–you look gorgeous,” Harry expressed as he walked into her dressing room and saw her dressed in a black maxi dress with embroidered flowers instead of her signature mini skirt.

Y/N did a twirl for him, “you like? My mum found it at this shop we love to visit together. Altered it to perfection. The extra fabric she used for my bows,” Y/N points out. Harry admires her loose curls, a massive bow holding half up in a messy updo. She looked effortlessly beautiful.

“It’s wonderful.”

“I got a wardrobe upgrade for the next few weeks. Leaving a lot at home and packing a ton of new outfits. Think it’s time to play dress up,” Y/N laughs, knowing she will have a fun time and lots of new looks to explore.

“Can you dance in it?”

Y/N smirks, “don’t worry, Felix made me practice shaking my ass already.”

“Oh darn,” he jokes. “Have a lovely show.”

Harry brings her in for a hug, and Y/N sags against him, loving the comfort he brings her. As she goes to pull away, Harry leans in for a kiss but waits for her permission; with a simple nod, he connects their lips and captures her heart. The kiss is perfect. It’s slow and gentle but filled with passion and yearning. Yearning for more time together, longing for all they have yet to explore. Harry backs away, his lips shining from her strawberry lip gloss.

With a final wave, he’s gone, and Y/N takes the stage.

“Welcome to the final night of Wembley! Promise you’re in for a hell of a show. I-I’ve never been happier.” Y/N thinks back to minutes before she walked on stage and knows her words have never been more accurate. “Let’s dance!”

The show passes in a breeze, and before she knows it, she’s reached the end of her set, having one final song left to perform. She never seems to feel time passing when she’s on stage. While Y/N loves playing for Harry’s fans, she’s excited to get back on the road for herself soon enough.

“Wembley, Wembley. You are a beautiful crowd. I’ve got one last song for you.” The crowd cheers. “Ouch,” she feigns hurt, placing a hand over her heart. “I won’t take offense only because I’m also excited for Harry.” Y/N steps towards the stage with her microphone. “Thank you for receiving me with open arms, Wembley. I love performing and singing all my songs for you. I hope you come out to a show of mine in the future. It would be lovely to see familiar faces in the crowd. Before I continue, there are some people I need to thank. My mum Reina is in the crowd.” Y/N cheers when the crowd screams and chants for her mother. “She’s going to love that. There is someone special who is not here but has a special place in my heart and made me fall in love with singing: my Dad. While it feels like it has always been my mum and I, he’s never forgotten. My mom gave me all his records and always played music he loved. It led me to finding my dream and making it come true. Mumma, thank you for everything. I love you. Lastly, Harry Styles, it has been my greatest honor to join you on tour, but tonight, I feel extra thankful to be here with you. You’ve become a great inspiration throughout this tour, and I’m grateful for you.”

Y/N wipes her tears, laughing to herself for getting emotional. One last song to sing. She looks at the sky and whispers, “this is for you, Pops.” When she finishes, Y/N blows kisses to the crowd and rushes off stage and straight into her mother’s waiting arms.

“He would be so proud,” Reina whispers, making Y/N shed a few more tears. “I’m proud of you, my angel.”

Y/N squeezes her mother tighter. “Thanks, Mumma.” After her mother finishes showering her in kisses, Y/N heads to her dressing room, wanting to change and shower, except when she walks in, she finds Harry reading her lyric journal.

“Harry?” She looks at him, confused.

He stands up quickly, setting the book down on the couch. “I-I didn’t mean to. But it was flipped open to

‘Right Now’ it’s the song you played me on the piano. I still shouldn’t have done it, but I was curious. I–I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Y/N wishes he wasn’t so panicked. “It’s okay. I think you’ve heard all about these songs. Very comfortable with you reading it. Only June gets a kick at reading the notebook. Think she left it out.”

Harry sighs. She opens her arms for him, and he falls right in. “You were wonderful! Love seeing you so happy,” he mutters.

“Special crowd. Don’t know if it’s possible, but it feels like there's more people than the other nights,” she confesses. She wouldn't be surprised if that was the truth; fans sneaking into the pit are much more common when workers are distracted, even if they try their best.

He laughs, “guess we’ll see, all I know is tonight will be special.”

Y/N enjoyed this downtime with Harry. While they knew a conversation was waiting to happen, they simply chose to enjoy this final night in London before continuing on the road for the next few weeks. Y/N knew how she felt, but this was not the time or place to have this discussion. It’s one she would be waiting for in the days to come.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Got a surprise for tonight.” Harry stole a kiss and backed away from her. Y/N could see a twinkle in his eye and knew he had found her favorite song. Y/N knows he went to her Mum. She was the only one who knew. While ‘Fine Line’ was special and he played it every night, she wondered if he would play it for her.

Y/N doesn’t always watch the show in the audience; sometimes, she is side-stage dancing with Felix and playing air guitar. Then there are times they’re in the green room eating while watching Harry play through the TV in their room, but tonight, Y/N joins his family and watches from the right side of the stage. Anne said they’re close enough that he can spot them but not enough to distract him. For the last week here, Y/N had met most of his friends and family; there would even be a celebration at the end of the night where more people would attend. Y/N knew Harry would be the man of the hour and had decided she’d hang for an hour before heading home. While she selfishly wanted to monopolize all his time, Y/N knew she couldn’t. She’d see him on their flight to Wales in a few days.

“He’s got quite a big crush on you,” Gemma nudges her shoulder. “I would know I’m his older sister.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Then I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“My brother’s a shy guy. When he’s onstage, he shines so bright, but when he walks off, he’s back to being my shy brother who, for the life of me, is awful at starting conversations. He cares so much for everyone in his life. Once you’re in, you have a friend with him for life.” Gemma tells Y/N, and she knows it’s as much a welcoming as it is a warning.

“I-I think he’s amazing. Fuck, I’ve kept a distance for a while only because I wasn’t certain if he was genuine. But repeatedly, he proves to go above and beyond for anyone. Being home puts many things in perspective for me,” Y/N sighs and offers Gemma a timid smile. “I’d be lucky to be given any relationship with Harry.”

Gemma’s laugh rings loud, causing their mums to look over at them, but Gemma waves them off. Gemma links her arm with Y/N and declares them dance partners for the night. “You’re a good person, I can tell. And even if I couldn't, my mum could, she adores you already. Think she plays your music more than Harry.”

Y/N gasps in surprise, “please tell me Harry knows!” Gemma shakes her head. “Oh my gosh, he said I write sad music.”

“Well, he writes horny pop songs,” Gemma chips in.

Y/N falls into a fit of giggles, “he does!”

“You write rock mixed with sadness and a few pop influences.”

Y/N feels her face heat up, knowing Gemma is clearly a fan of her music. It always overwhelms her, but knowing that Gemma, Harry’s sister, enjoys her music is a big win for her. It brings her a lot of joy. Y/N always had an easy time conversing with people, but she feared making relationships and connections. It’s a reason her circle is tight-knit, but chatting with Gemma makes her hope that a new friendship could start here.

The night is spent dancing and singing at the top of their lungs or as loud as Y/N knows she’s allowed without messing up her voice. After Mitch’s incredible solo for ‘She,’ Harry walked to the middle of the catwalk with the ladies of his band. It seemed as if every fan knew what song was coming as Y/N saw friends embrace each other. Y/N walked over to her mother, knowing her Mumma related a little too closely to the song. However, the familiar notes to ‘Matilda didn’t start; instead, it was a soft guitar intro. Reina pulled Y/N tight into her arms. This was the surprise Harry had mentioned.

Harry finds his mum and sister hugging as he sings, but he keeps searching until his eyes land on Y/N, who is being embraced by her mother as she sings along to every word of “Sweet Creature” while Harry has no idea what this song means to her, she knows what it means to him and his sister. There are many ways to interpret his songs, and he’s glad Y/N connected with this one. He’s happy he could give Y/N and her mother this moment for it to become theirs.

It’s hard keeping his emotions under control for the entire show, but he does his best. He remembers to thank his family and promises Wembley he’ll see them soon. When Harry runs off the stage that night, he knows he left his heart out there for every single person. It’s something he knows he is going to get back with a lot more love-filled into it.

There is a celebration that Jeff hosted for everyone wanting a perfect end to four sold-out nights in the city that changed his life and has now become his home. Harry sees his crew mingling. He sees Y/N’s band mixing with his band. It’s nice to see how connected everyone has become over the last few months. The person he is searching for is talking to Glenne. He sees them laughing, and as he makes his way over to them, he is intercepted by Ben, a long-time friend. Harry bounces around the room, converses with everyone, and occasionally drinks with them. Harry had managed to keep an eye on Y/N all night until he was saying goodbye to someone, and when he turned back, he could no longer spot Y/N. Harry knows he’ll see her soon and has her number to call her, but he really wanted to hear her thoughts about tonight’s show.

Harry pulls out his phone to call her when he finds a text from her.

Y/N

Thank you for the surprise. Tonight truly was magical.

Did you enjoy the rain? Think the heavens opened up from how emotional you made everyone. I’ll see you soon. Give me a call tomorrow. xx

He pockets his phone with a smile and knows what he has with Y/N is good, and he’ll do everything in his power to make her happy for a long time.

In Wales, Y/N and Harry did not go a moment apart as if they had become each other’s shadows. Where one went, the other followed. No one questioned it because it was bound for something to happen, but what happened? No one knew. Y/N and Harry shared kisses behind closed doors, and it was theirs. It was the time to brush everything away and simply be together.

Belgium came much too soon, and there is something Harry has been meaning to ask. He’s lying on Y/N’s hotel bed, knowing they have a few days before their show, and Harry’s dying to take Y/N out on a date.

“Sweetheart,” Harry calls out for her.

“In a minute.”

She walks out of the bathroom a minute later, her skincare finished for the night. They had arrived a few hours ago, and Harry quickly approached her.

“Beautiful.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t stop her face from heating up at the compliment. “Sweet talker.”

“Only yours,” Harry sing-songs.

She lies down with him. “Any big plans in Belgium, H?”

“A sold-out show,” he teases.

“Well, obviously.” She plays with a loose thread on her shirt. “Meant sightseeing.”

Harry shrugs and scoots closer, reaching down to take her hand in his. “Not really sure. Thought sleeping would be a good start.”

“Don’t be silly. You and Brad love an early morning workout.”

Harry reaches out and pokes her nose, making her scrunch her face in surprise. “No need to be jealous. Early days with Brad mean free days with you, sweets.”

He had a point. Y/N deflates because while Belgium is famously known for its waffles, she doesn’t want to explore alone. She also knows it is harder for Harry to simply be out. “It’s simply we have time to explore cities I’ve never visited before, and while I selfishly want to ask you to roam the city with me, I know it’s not possible.”

“Hey,” he speaks softly. Her hand stays cradled to his chest, all his attention Y/N. His eyes say everything he hasn’t voiced yet. “We can walk around any city aimlessly. You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

“Harry,” she breathes out. “You–”

“Why can’t I? Simply because others will look or because I’m this big name. Don’t I deserve the same respect as others to simply be.”

“You do. Of course, you do.”

“Then, don’t worry about anything else. I promise I will be there if you ask me to be somewhere or want to go to a chocolate-making class.” Harry’s words fill her with hope. Hope that whatever this is will turn into something more, something special.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I-I don’t want to go to a chocolate class.”

Harry falls into a fit of giggles, leaning in close to press kisses to her cheeks, not caring that she tries to push him away because he knows she likes it, knows she craves his touch as much as he does hers. “Would you go on a date with me, Y/N?”

Y/N freezes, not having expected him to ask her. She always kept it at the back of her mind, but now he’s here asking for more. “A date?” She repeats. “With me?”

Harry’s laugh rings loud, “you’re kind of who I’m asking.”

She wants to blurt out yes, it’s on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it back. Instead, he thinks about it for a second, wanting to make Harry sweat for a second. “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow? I can plan a whole day out for us.”

Y/N breaks out a huge smile; dates usually last an hour or two, but she has Harry wanting to spend the entire day with her. She knows this is unconventional and that they have already spent so much time together that it will now only be outside the four walls of a hotel room.

“Tomorrow is perfect,” she agrees.

Harry bids her goodnight and promises to be here at eight with a coffee for her to start the day.

True to his word, the following morning, Harry is there with two cups of coffee and a paper bag. The smell of fresh bread reaches her, and Y/N knows this is a fantastic start. Harry leads them out of the hotel room and onto the street, promising walking would be better.

Making it to their first destination, it’s a Botanical Garden, and Y/N practically shines with happiness. From the moment they walk in, they are met with blooming plants. They find out it’s pretty empty, not many people picking a garden for their first visit of the day. Y/N roams around, with Harry trailing close behind. She doesn’t realize Harry is taking photos of her every few minutes. Harry wanted to capture the entire day, and seeing her beauty through his eyes was something to behold.

“H, come on!” Y/N turns to him with a stretched-out hand, and he’d be a fool not to take it. They spend a few hours roaming around, stopping to take pictures and sitting on benches as they take in all the beauty, never letting go of each other’s hands.

Y/N knew it was always easy with Harry, but she let every touch linger a bit longer in this new context of being on a date. Harry told her it was time for the next destination, and while she didn’t know what it was, she knew the day would only get better.

“Did you know fries are actually Belgian and not French?” Harry tells Y/N as they share a small plate outside a shop.

Y/N chews a fry, tilting her head, thinking his words over. “Weird to call them French.”

It turns out Harry had no real plan for them besides the gardens, but was too worried to tell Y/N. She laughed and promised him she didn’t mind. Spending time with him was more than enough. Aimlessly walking is her favorite pastime when she’s in a new city, but doing it here with Harry, she knows it will never be the same again.

They walked in and out of shops for the next few hours, laughing at shared stories and buying knickknacks for family members. Harry dragged Y/N into a chocolate shop, where the worker was kind enough to offer them samples. After buying too much, Y/N promised to share it with the crew. It was too good for them not to share.

After some time, Harry pulled Y/N to sit on a bench with him. It gave them a beautiful view of the sun that was beginning to set. They sat in silence for a while, comfortable enough to enjoy each other’s company without saying anything.

“Did you know I once wrote a song about Rapunzel?”

“The princess?” Harry asks.

“Mhm…I loved the film, and I thought Rapunzel had lost so much time being trapped that, being free, she didn’t know where to start. It was not my best.”

Harry nudges her shoulder, “doubt that.”

She shrugs, “who knows, maybe it was amazing, but I’ll never know, never thought to record it.”

“What made you want to pursue music?” Harry asks. He has her hand in his lap, twisting the ring she wears on her pinky finger with her father’s initials.

Her father comes to mind, “I was really young when we lost my dad. He loved music; he was the type to love it all, from Metal to pop to Spanish. He worked as a producer exclusively in London and with close artists, he had never wanted anything to take him from home. He loved my mum too much to ever want to part with her for long. My dad always had music playing. My mum said it was the first thing I reacted to when she was pregnant with me. By the time I was born, music lulled me to sleep and was the first thing I heard when I woke up. By the time we lost him, my Mumma played his records to keep his memory alive. She only bought new ones on his birthday and anniversary. I didn’t realize until I was much older that it also connected them.” Y/N pauses to send Harry a smile, and he answers by squeezing her hand. “My mum knew I had a good pair of lungs during my theater days and pushed me to pursue more if I wanted. I taught myself guitar and took piano lessons because I wanted to improve. It wasn’t always easy, but I loved learning, so it only motivated me. I wanted to share music because I wanted to connect with others and proudly say I’m doing that.” Y/N feels overwhelmed but is happy she shared this with Harry. She can’t remember the last time she was this honest with anyone.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Harry kisses her cheek. “I-I love seeing you on stage. You radiate this energy that—” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to describe it, but it makes you want to be part of it. I think you’re one of the most amazing songwriters we have in our generation.”

“Harry,” she shakes her head to get him to stop, but it urges him on.

“I mean it. You’re incredible, and I’ll forever scream it from the rooftops if you want me to.”

Y/N feels her face flush and turns to pull Harry in for a hug. She breathes him in for a long moment, “I–thank you.”

After the sunset, they walk back to their hotel. They linger outside Y/N’s door, not ready to say goodbye even after a long day together.

“We–”

“I–”

“You first,” they reply in unison.

Harry gestures for her to go first.

“I was going to say if you want, we can freshen up and have dinner in my room, maybe watch a movie,” she asks nervously.

He nods eagerly, “yes, please.”

“Good, good. Say an hour?”

“Perfect.”

Harry lets her open her hotel room, but before she can wave goodbye, he pushes her against the entrance and leans in to kiss her. Y/N sighs against his lips. She has wanted to do all this all day. His hands hold her waist firmly while Y/N fists his shirt to keep him close.

Y/N pulls back to catch her breath, “been wanting to do that all day.”

Harry smirks, “well, here’s another one.”

His lips are soft, but the kiss is fast and needy. There has been a build-up to this moment all day. Y/N lets him guide her as he explores her mouth. She moans as he nips her bottom lip. Y/N pulls him closer, needing to feel him against her. She’s so lost in the kiss she jumps back in surprise when the door slams shut. Harry rests his forehead against hers, his breath heavy. “Maybe not the smartest thing we’ve done.”

Y/N bites her lip, “probably not.”

Harry thumbs at her bottom lip, and she releases it. “Please stop, or I’m going to kiss you again.”

“I don’t mind,” she confesses.

“Y/N,” Harry groans. “I’m going to go.”

“But you’ll be back?” She asks softly.

“In an hour,” he assures her. “Pick a movie for us.”

“Bye Harry.”

Harry kisses her cheek, knowing that if he gets another taste of her, it will lead to more kissing, which they clearly do not want to rush. “Bye, sweetheart.”

Y/N shuts the door behind him, a large grin on her face. She’s falling hard, and she’s falling fast.

“Vienna is probably one of the most beautiful songs ever created,” June tells Y/N, who’s lying on the floor of Harry’s stage. “The beauty of getting older.”

“June, you hated that song when you were younger,” Quinn chimes in.

“Am I not allowed to change my opinion?” She yells. Quinn simply puts his hands up, deciding it is not worth defending.

“City of Music is nothing I thought it would be,” Felix shares.

“What were you expecting?” Y/N asks curiously.

Felix laughs, “definitely fewer parks.”

“Oi, is this what we pay you to do?” Harry shouts as he walks over to them dressed in blue jeans and a “Pleasing” sweater.

“Y/N, save us, please!” They all collectively yell.

Harry snickers at her, knowing they might not have told anyone about the dates they’ve been having in every city that usually end in one of them staying the night in the other’s room. It started off with neither of them wanting to say goodnight. Harry laid on her blankets while she tucked herself, holding hands; they dozed off to sleep. It was a no-brainer after that because they both enjoyed waking up to one another. Nothing goes on except a bit of kissing. She can’t say she hasn’t been craving something more but knows there is no need to rush her time with Harry.

“It’s chisme time,” Y/N tells him. “Anything to share.”

“I love Gossip.” Harry takes a seat next to Y/N, leaving not a single space between them. “Did you know we’re not having soup for lunch?”

Everyone collectively groans, “banished, you’re no longer welcome,” Quinn shooed him away.

“Hey now, I got a better one,” Harry leans in closer. He glances at Y/N before telling the others to get close, leaving Y/N out of their makeshift circle.

Y/N sits back, relaxed; with Harry, there is no need to worry about anything. June and Felix lean back, “Oh,” at the news while Quinn looks confused. He looks at Y/N, then back to Harry, then again to Y/N.

“Lies. Not real. She doesn’t have the game,” Quinn says while looking at her.

While Y/N has no idea what Harry whispered to them, June’s grin says it all. She knows it has to do with the dates they’ve been going on. Y/N had mentioned she liked Harry, but they all assumed she would do nothing about it.

“H, what did you do? It seems like they’re broken now.” Y/N points out to her two loudest bandmates, who have not said a single word, and Quinn, who has started to pace around on stage.

Harry leans back on his arms as he takes in the scene before him. “Simply told them I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend. Had no idea you were keeping me as your dirty little secret.”

Y/N quickly shakes her head, “no, never, it’s ju—” she cuts herself off, seeing that his dimples are on display and not an ounce of sadness or pain. “You’re annoying.”

“But you like me!”

“Whatever.”

“You brushed of my question.”

“More like a statement,” she rebuttals. “Clearly not how you’re going to ask me.”

Harry sends her a cheeky wink, “course not.”

“Then you’ll have to wait for my answer until then. Now shoo, I’ve got to rehearse and answer all their dumb questions.”

Harry kissed her cheek with a loud “muah” and promised to head to her room tonight.

There was a sense of anxiety that had been with Y/N all day. Harry had made a bold statement tonight, and she wondered if he did it to give her the time to see if that was what she wanted. Harry was not like someone she had ever been with. She never had to speak on her emotions; she always went with the flow, but Harry is giving her the choice here. Y/N is nowhere near ready for the conversation, and it seems Harry knows because when he arrives in her room and sees the stress in her eyes, he takes her in his arms and tells her it’s time for bed.

Harry takes a shower while Y/N changes into an old tour shirt and boxers. Harry enters the bedroom to find her lying in the middle of the king-sized bed.

“You look adorable.”

“Cute enough for cuddles?”

Harry laughs, “always.”

He makes his way to her after double-checking the lock on her door and ensuring his phone is off. He lifts the blankets and settles behind Y/N, his hands slipping under her shirt and pulling her towards him. Y/N sighs and melts against him.

“There’s no pressure to have this conversation. I want you to know where I stand. I know I might not have gone about it the best way, but I want you to know you have as much control over this relationship as I do.”

With Harry’s reassuring words, Y/N felt at ease. She knew she was overthinking everything, but Harry understood her like no one else had.

“I like you, Harry,” she confessed. “I like you a lot. I-I-how you manage to always have the right words escapes me, but I’m thankful. I like you, and I like where this is going.”

Harry squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to her neck. “I like you too. Promise, I’m sticking around.”

Y/N knows she’s lucky to have Harry.

“¡Hola Barcelona! Yo me llamo Y/N, gracias por acompañarnos esta noche.” The crowd cheers after hearing her Spanish. “I know, right, pretty good. My grandpa taught me a living legend he still is. Think he’ll be proud. Let’s have some fun tonight.”

Y/N, as soon as she gets off stage, feels a heaviness in her heart because, after tonight, there are only three shows left. It means not seeing her friends and the new friends she has made for a long time. Y/N is jumping straight into a tour in two months, meaning she’s got to start rehearsals in a month. While she doesn’t know what comes next, she does hope to finish her album before she heads out on tour. Harry had accompanied her to the studio, and even Mitch had tagged along, wanting to see her process. It led to them playing guitar in a few of her songs. These memories she’s made throughout this tour will live within her new album.

Y/N didn’t know how much her life would change by accepting to be Harry’s opening act. She knows she should bask in the happiness while she can, but the reminder lingers in her mind. Y/N finds Harry and is not surprised to find him with Mitch. They’re speaking about Mitch’s album while Sarah is lying on the couch with her son, who’s napping. There has been so much to happen since this tour started, and Y/N never gets tired of hearing the stories.

“Dinner?” Harry raises his head when he hears her voice. Mitch waves at her but doesn’t offer her a word; instead focuses on Sarah.

Harry rushes over to her, wrapping her in a hug. “Promise I watched. Mitch stole me away quickly.”

Y/N laughs. Harry not watching didn’t even cross her mind. “You’re fine. Wouldn’t blame you, boring for you with the same ol’ setlist each night.”

“Hey now,” Harry defends. “That’s my favorite singer, you're insulting.”

“Oh, Stevie Nicks is not going to like that,” Mitch comments.

“Wanker!” Harry gives Mitch the middle finger and guides them to get soup, Harry’s favorite food, before a show. It’s known to settle his nerves.

“That’s okay, Hozier is mine,” Y/N chirps, sharing a laugh with Mitch.

“Irish tend to be superior,” Mitch agrees.

Harry walks out with Y/N, sending Mitch a wave. Harry walked them to his green room, requesting his soup and Y/N’s sandwich to be sent. She told him she’d pick it up, but Harry shared he wanted a minute alone with her. Y/N hadn’t technically been with Harry long; it’s only been two weeks, give or take a few hours, but she’d known him for months. There was no need to talk as Y/N settled on the couch with him. She felt tired after her set, all the adrenaline gone. Harry asked her for dinner, and then she’d watch Harry from her dressing room with the rest of her band. The final days were approaching, and Y/N knew she’d prepare to say goodbye to them, too, even if it was for a few weeks.

They settled in the silence, no need for conversation. Y/N was content to be wrapped in Harry’s arms as he closed his eyes, breathing her in. Y/N had not let herself think about the end of the tour because she wanted to enjoy every moment, and now, with the end so close, she honestly never pictured herself falling in love with Harry. She knows she wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. She had him and would protect this relationship for as long as she was allowed to have him and even long after.

After a successful show, Harry came to sleep in Y/N’s room with the promise he wanted to be close to her. Y/N was not one to deny him of any request, not when he kept her safe. Y/N woke up feeling too warm with Harry’s hand flat against her warm skin. He loved physical touch and kept his hold on her even in his sleep. Y/N shimmied behind him but stopped when she felt how hard he was. She knew it was normal, but a part of her wanted to take care of it and take the next step with him.

“Baby, you got to stop moving,” Harry groaned in her ear. Y/N paused, thinking he might not be on the same page but as if he could read her mind, “unless you want me to take care of you.”

Y/N stayed frozen because her mind was running wild on the possibilities that could happen. She had dreamed about Harry taking care of her, but now, making it happen, Y/N was at a loss for words.

Harry turned Y/N, making her lay on her back, and he shifted above her with a gentle smile. “Morning, pretty girl.”

“Morning,” she breathed out.

Y/N knew she didn’t look her best, with tired eyes and crazy hair, not even mentioning she hadn’t brushed her teeth, but by the way, Harry was gazing at her, it was clear he wasn’t thinking the same.

“You’re beautiful. Thought you were a figment of my imagination, but here you are, spread out under me.”

She feels her face heat up, loving how warm his words make her feel.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give you whatever you ask for.” She knows he means it. He’s a giver. It’s what brings him the most joy.

“Want you to touch me,” she spoke softly.

Harry kneeled over her, careful not to let his entire body sit on her. He ran his fingers up her arm, biting back a smile at the goosebumps that raised over her body. Y/N’s breathing slowed down as her eyes never left his. “Where, baby?”

Y/N shimmied, her face burning. She couldn’t, but she knew he’d continue to play with her if she didn't. His hands now tracing over her stomach and up to her breast. Y/N pushed against his hand, but he pulled away, tutting at her greediness.

She didn’t have the words, but Y/N guided his hand, resting on her stomach to her wet pussy. Harry moaned when he felt how ready she was for him. “Here, baby. Need me here?”

“Please, Harry. Need you to take care of me,” she begs.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

Consent had never felt so sexy.

“Yes, please, Harry.”

“You’re not wearing panties.”

Y/N has to hold back a laugh because she is begging him to make her come, and he is focused on her having no panties. “I run hot, you know that.”

He glided his fingers around her pussy, spreading around her wetness. She let out a needy moan when he slid his fingers inside her. The feel of her clenching around his fingers made him eager to add another. Harry loved seeing her like this. It made him want to give her everything. In and out, he moved his fingers inside her, rubbing and stroking her swollen lips. She laid their legs spread out, head back, taking it all. Harry knew she was close, but he was greedy for a taste.

Harry lowered his mouth to her stomach, pushing her shirt up, allowing him to kiss her breasts before continuing down the path calling for him. He kissed along her thighs, and Y/N felt her breathing slow down. He continued with his slow kisses along her hips up to her belly and back down again. Sliding his hands under her ass, he pulled her closer.

“Oh baby, I need to taste you.” His warm breath tickled my skin as he lowered his mouth and bit into the inside of her thigh. Y/N let out a loud moan, urging him to continue. He kissed her repeatedly, knowing it would bruise. He was glad to mark her his.

Y/N let out a soft cry as his tongue licked up her thigh. She needed everything as he moved closer to where she was ready for him. He slowly dragged his tongue through her folds.

Fuck.

“Harry, Harry,” she chanted his name.

Y/N could only beg for more as Harry muttered something about how delicious she tasted. As he licked into her, he slid one finger into her as his thumb rubbed against her clit. In seconds, Y/N was lifting to meet each thrust of his finger.

“You sound so beautiful with my name on your lips,” he dived back in. “Want me to make you mine?”

“Yes,” Y/N moaned. “All yours. Only yours.”

Y/N was writhing and wiggling anything to keep him pressed against her clit as his tongue thrust inside her. Everything was on fire; every nerve in her body was firing off. He slipped another finger, and Y/N exploded. It all became so much, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her as she felt her orgasm rip through her. Y/N felt Harry slow down, lazily moving away from her, with no apparent rush in wanting to leave her. Harry slowly sits up; she sees hooded eyes, her eyes focused on the mess she’d made on his face. Harry raised his hand and slipped his wet fingers in his mouth, cleaning the last of her juices. Y/N knows they’d get going for a second round if he's not careful.

“Let me kiss you,” she begged, her voice rough.

Harry ran a tongue over his lips, making a show of cleaning her off him, “not ready to share yet.”

“Nasty,” she chastised before she leaned up, placing her hand on the back of his neck and pulling him for a heated kiss. “Will you come for me, Harry?” She mumbled against his lips.

She pushed away, removing her shirt, throwing it to the side, and lying back, allowing him the view of her breasts, her nipples hard as she begged him to come. Harry slid down his briefs, and Y/N gasped at how beautiful he looked hard and thick because of her. Y/N reached for him, but Harry shook his head, a clear sign this would be quick. Harry wet his hand, moving it steadily up and down his base. Y/N was mesmerized. She played with her tits as he stroked himself, knowing he loved the show.

“Come for me, Harry,” she purred. “Show me how good I helped make you feel. Show me how much you loved making me come. The feel of your tongue is something I never want to forget. How well you take care of me.”

“Fuck, baby. Didn’t know you could be so dirty.”

“Promise to take you down my throat next time. Let you use me any way you want. Please, Harry, come for me.”

That was all he needed for him to come on her skin.

“You’re a dirty girl,” he comments.

Y/N winks, “only for you.”

As they settled down from the high, Harry cleaned her up with an old shirt of his. They stayed cuddled on the large bed, sitting in silence. There was so much said between them, but they both knew they meant every word. It would be only up from here, even if only a few days were left.

Y/N has enjoyed meeting new people, but this tour introduced her to new friends. Harry’s band is lovely and quite large; he has his main band, but during the disco medley, as he likes to call it, he brings out the horns. She found herself overtime making her way to their dressing room, watching them get ready for the night. Throughout her time on the tour, she earned her spot in their room as she watched them get ready before her set or after.

Tonight was no different. Y/N was talking with Lorren and Parris about their plans after the tour. They shared they had shows lined up, but a break was the first thing they were looking forward to, and Y/N had to agree.

“Lorren, can I ask you something?”

Lorren turned to Y/N with a bright smile, “well, of course.”

“Well, I was wondering if you could add stars to my face. Quite good at my eyeliner but shit at anything else,” Y/N confessed.

Lorren looked thrilled. “Yes, please, yes. Thank you for asking.” Lorren stood up from her chair, giving it a pat for Y/N to make her way over. Lorren complimented Y/N’s skin and makeup, stating it was flawless. Y/N thought it better be she was religious with her skincare. She learned over time less was more and stuck with it. Sometimes, not even Y/N could escape her eyebags when she worked too long in the studio.

She sat perfectly still for Lorren, continuing to talk to Kalia about her new musical release. It was something everyone had been waiting for; they were all incredibly proud. They segway to talking about Pauli, who, thanks to him, had brought them all on from the North America tour to right here in Lisbon and a final show in Italy.

Y/N soon felt the room fall quiet. She got lost in her thoughts when a shutter made her snap her eyes open. It was only Georgia, her photographer, taking photos. “Scared me, Georgie.”

Georgie laughed, “sorry, but you did tell me to capture everything.”

Y/N wondered what she meant by that; before she could ask, Lorren declared her finished. She looked in the mirror and gasped at how perfectly they blended with the purple eyeshadow she used today. Y/N noticed Lorren added glitter to give it that extra glimmer.

She hugged Lorren, thanking her over and over again. She would have continued if Georgie didn’t remind her she had to change. Y/N wished the room luck and rushed to her dressing room, where her outfit was laid out.

One final look in the mirror, and Y/N’s ready to go. She walks out, happy to find Zahara, who came to celebrate the end of tour with her. “You made it!” Y/N cheers.

Zahara wraps her in a hug. “No thanks to stupid United. Canceled my flight twice.”

Y/N winces, “don’t even want to imagine the conversation you had.”

“It was not pretty,” Zahara shares.

Y/N stands side stage with Zahara, chatting while Ash helps secure her mic pack while Zahara makes her promise not to do anything she wouldn’t do. Zahara doesn’t even know what she’s asking of her, especially because she has no idea who Y/N has been kissing behind closed doors.

She rushes on stage; her signature mini skirt is back tonight, paired with a baby tee Harry ordered for her. It’s black and has bedazzled constellations all around, a big reason she asked Lorren for stars on her face. Y/N spent a large portion of her morning with Harry, thanking him for the gift.

Harry watches Y/N sing her heart out to the crowd. This song Harry knows Y/N wrote when she was going through a bad breakup. While it hurts him to think about her with anyone else, he also knows he’s started to write endless songs about her and knows she’s done the same. Zahara greets him courtly, and he wonders if she knows.

“Listen, Harry.” He steps closer, but Zahara never looks at him. “If you do anything–and I mean anything to smear her image, I’ll make you regret it. This girl has fought tooth and nail to be where she is.” Harry sees the fire in her eyes. “Y/N doesn’t open up easily, and I know you wormed your way in. You’re a good guy, but even a good person can break a heart. You know what it’s like to be talked about.”

Harry knows first hand how ruthless the media is. “I would never want that for her.”

Zahara sighs, “I know. She’s special, and I think she’s proved that even more because of this opportunity you gave her.”

“I-I- didn’t expect to fall for her,” Harry defends because he hadn’t, but one conversation with her, and there was no stopping it.

“She’s got that charm,” Zahara laughs. “Look at me here to watch her finish a tour when I’ve got so much to do. You’d do anything knowing you put that smile on her face.”

Harry knows Zahara is right and goes back to watching Y/N. He can’t help it when he takes out his phone to record her because he wants to remember these moments of her on stage. He knows her setlist by heart and knows she’s got three songs left. What he doesn’t expect is for her to shoot a wink towards Zahara, and then they watch her jump off the stage. She makes it look effortless, but he’s worried and moves forward to try to stop her. Zahara shoots her arm out to stop him. “Slow down, rockstar. She’s got this.”

“You’re okay with this?”

“Oh, I’m furious,” she confesses, “but she did it with me in the audience, knowing I’d keep her safe.”

Y/N walks through the barricade, serenading fans and security in front and behind her. It’s the only thing that brings him a bit of comfort. The cameras follow her around, showing her on the large screen, making him laugh because he can see how much she enjoys it. She walks the entire catwalk, hugging fans who are clearly there for her as much as they are for him. She reads a few signs, and by the time she returns to the stage, she has friendship bracelets lining her wrist, a shirt on her shoulder, and two bouquets of flowers. Y/N laughs in their direction, clearly noting the disbelief on both their faces. Y/N continues the show, giving 100% energy until she sings her final note.

She hurries off straight into Zahara’s open arms. While he can’t hear what Zahara is whispering to Y/N, he knows it has to be about him for her face to look flushed and not from her hour-long performance. Zahara pushed her towards Harry, who was waiting for his turn. Y/N settles in his embrace as he kisses her head repeatedly. “You’re mental, absolutely insane.”

Y/N giggles against his chest, “how rude.”

Harry puts his hands on her cheeks, pulling her back the slightest bit to get her to look at him. “You were brilliant! A shining star, you have the crowd in the palm of your hand.” Y/N’s smile shines at his words.

“You’ve got lovely fans. They make it easy.”

He holds back from kissing her but promises to see her later.

Y/N watches him go, not caring that Zahara and the band will tease her endlessly for it. She doesn’t mind one bit.

“I’ve been on tour with one of my favorite artists, Y/N Y/LN.” Harry lets the crowd cheer for her, knowing Y/N is waiting for him to call her onstage. “She’s got amazing songs, and lucky for you all, I asked her to sing a song with me for you all. So everyone welcome Y/N to the stage.” In her outfit from earlier, Y/N walks out, guitar strapped to her chest, waving to the fans. She sees hundreds of phones in the air as she stands at her mic stand. They had rehearsed today, with Harry promising he was ready. He seemed to know the entire song by heart and had his band learn it. “Let’s go!”

Y/N never imagined being on stage singing her dirtiest song with Harry to a sold-out stadium. Y/N can’t seem to look away from him; it has her bringing out all her sensual dance moves when she plays this song. It’s a reason she cut it from her setlist tonight to play it specifically with him. When it comes to an end, Y/N turns to the Love band, giving them a round of applause.

“How about one more?” Harry asks Y/N into the microphone.

She smirks, “I'd be honored.”

Y/N hands off her guitar to Chloe, waiting to pack it away for her. Then, he prances back over as Harry begins ‘Daylight.’ Y/N had always enjoyed this song, the sweetness packed in the lyrics. It's a song about a lover coming and going. While they’re home, he’s happy and full of joy, but once they’re gone, the mood falls, and he’s left missing them. It’s a feeling she’s familiar with, and she knows that Harry has lost a person due to being away for so long. It does make her think about her finished album and how it was influenced by everyone around her, romantical or not.

As she comes over to sing into Harry’s mic, not minding the closeness, the cheers get louder as they stay together. She feels Harry’s eyes burning into the side of her head, and she dances away, letting him continue. When it’s her turn again, she returns to his mic, looking straight at him. She smirks, singing his lyrics. She sees his eyes darken and knows she’s in for a fun night.

Once the song ends, Harry lets the crowd give Y/N a long applause. Harry pulls her in for a tight hug, “thank you for doing this with me.”

Y/N gives him a light kiss on the cheek, thankful her face is hidden from the crowd, “thank you for inviting me.”

“I don’t want to let you go.”

Y/N laughs because she feels the same way. “Promise, I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done. Go have fun, rockstar.”

She runs off stage straight into June’s teasing arms. Y/N doesn’t even mind not when her thoughts are running wild watching Harry continue with the show.

“Babes, we’ve got to spend the show down there,” Felix begs, pointing to the crowd of fans leaning against the barrier.

Y/N’s eyes widen, “in the pit?”

They nod. Y/N knows they won’t stop until they do, so she compromises with them. They’ll go in between the catwalk and barricade for the last songs.

“I’m down,” Quinn quickly says.

“Can you get Harry to wet us?” June asks seriously.

Dear God. What is she going to do with them?

Once they’re down watching Harry prance around, he changes it up and plays a surprise song that makes them all lose their mind. Followed by screaming their lungs to ‘As It Was,’ nothing better than yelling “Leave America” with a sold-out crowd. By the time Kiwi rolls around, Harry has spotted them and jokes for Y/N to give him her number. There are many oohs in response, but Y/N sends him a wink. The band got what they wished for, and Harry gave them a good splash, one Y/N avoided by hiding under Quinn’s jacket. Harry is about to do his signature exit when he freezes and spots the cup of beer in her hand. She offers it to him as a joke but complies when he signals for her to pass it over. He mouths, “thank you, baby,” and the next thing she knows, he’s doing the whale with her beer. Fuck, if she didn’t want to get him naked now more than ever, as she saw the beer run down his neck and bare chest.

“Fuck me, I’m glad one of us is fucking him,” June mutters to her.

Y/N doesn’t bother correcting her friend. As her friends walk her back, she’s lost in her head because she enjoys being with Harry. Y/N knows she took her time discovering her feelings and allowing herself to fall for Harry; now that she has, it’s all-consuming. She is filled with so much safety and love; she’s used to being overwhelmed, but Harry makes her feel at peace. Having these conversations about what they are to each other is stupid, but she knows she owes it to Harry to tell him how she’s feeling.

She walks to his dressing room to find him changed and has his bag swung on his shoulder, meaning he’s leaving. “Heading out?”

He turns his head when he hears her voice. “Yeah, beat traffic.”

Y/N nods and stays quiet. She knows she’ll see him back at the hotel but feels like this can’t wait.

“Harry, I—”

“H, we got to go,” Jeff interrupts, rushing in behind her.

Harry frowns but doesn’t argue. He stands in front of her, reaching for her hand. He intertwines her fingers between his and pulls her along with him. “Come with me,” he begs.

Y/N begins to tell him she can’t when Quinn swings her bag at her, telling her she’s good to go. Harry gives her a deadpan stare, waiting for her to try to provide him with a reason why she can’t, but decides to give in. “Lead the way, H.”

The car ride to their hotel is quiet. Y/N leans her head on his shoulder as Harry comes down from the night's adrenaline. Her hand rests on his lap. She knows they will leave for Italy tomorrow. While excited for the last show, she’s sad it’s all ending. Y/N and Harry walk in together through a private entrance and say goodnight to Jeff as they head into Harry’s room. Her stuff never made it to her room, and it won’t in Italy either.

Harry heads to the shower while Y/N heads to the sink to remove all her makeup. This all feels domestic to her, doing this routine with Harry as if they’ve done it for years.

“You taking my beer was pretty bold,” Y/N comments when she hears the water shut off.

He dries off before exiting. She sees a towel wrapped around his waist and laughs when she sees it fits him a bit too small. “Thought you were offering it.”

“Ever heard of a cheers,” she teases.

Harry kisses her cheek and promises to warm her side of the bed. While Y//N showers and does her skincare, she thinks of what she will say to Harry. Her mind is going crazy, and she wants to get it in order before she just spills it all to him.

“Baby, you coming?”

Y/N replies to give her a second. She finds Harry sitting in bed, his book on his lap and the blanket untucked, waiting for her to settle in. Y/N kneels on the covers facing Harry, knowing she has to get the words out tonight.

“Need to tell you something,” she breathes out.

Harry looks at her concerned but gives her his undivided attention. “Course, love.”

“I-I like you. I know I’ve said that, but I like waking up with you. I love going on dates with you. Holding hands brings the biggest smile to my face. Your hugs bring me so much love and safety. I enjoy having conversations about everything and nothing, but I also love sitting in silence with you.”

“Y/N,” Harry begins, but she shakes her head. He reaches for her hand and holds it tight.

“I feel like it’s so soon to say these words, but I hope you feel it in every action and touch. I’m head over heels for you, Harry. I-I know I made you wait; I had to figure out my feelings, but I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am of you. Will you be my boyfriend?” Y/N asks. Once those words are out, she sinks her face in her hands. “God, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

“Hey, hey,” she hears Harry moving, then feels his hands pulling her hands away. He’s careful not to pressure her but lets him see her. “There’s my pretty girl.”

Y/N shakes her head; she really said all that.

“Thank you for sharing your feelings with me. I appreciate it. I like knowing where you stand. Do you want to know how I feel?” Y/N nods her head. “Well, love. I’m crazy about you, too. I like sitting with you and watching you play the piano. I love trading books we’ve finished reading because yours always have different annotations for me to find. I like seeing you watching me perform. I love watching you perform for an audience, and I can’t wait to see a show soon where the entire audience is there for you. I’m falling in love, and I know you’ll be there to catch me.”

She feels her eyes well up with tears because Y/N has never been good at expressing her emotions, but with Harry, she’d conquer every fear to make sure she can make him feel loved and seen. She presses her lips against his and melts against the familiar taste. With a soft moan, she shifted close as his mouth opened over hers, and his tongue slid between her lips. She might have initiated the kiss, but Harry seems to be the one who always takes control. She was always okay with that. She tilted her head so he could kiss her more deeply. He didn’t need more encouragement. The kiss became intense; heat flashed through her, making her thighs clench, and while she would love to take this further, she knew they needed to rest.

His hands trailed up her nightshirt, and she broke away to let out a loud moan when she felt him squeeze her ass. “H-h-harry, not tonight,” she managed to make out.

Harry slows his hands, bringing them back to her waist. “But we can kiss,” he asks against her lips.

“All night if you want.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he teases.

Harry pats her ass and helps her get under the covers. Y/N laughs when he turns her to be facing him. He wedges himself between her legs to be close; there’s no way of knowing where she begins, and he ends.

It’s a perfect night.

Italy has always been perfect to Y/N, from the people to the food to the views. While Y/N knows enough Italian to get around and understand it, Harry is basically fluent. He’d been practicing his speech all morning. His only break was to give Y/N one last wake-up call that had her screaming his name.

Y/N and Harry spent a few days roaming Italy together. They were officially a couple and were enjoying it. Harry kissed her every chance he could get. Y/N always had a hold of Harry, whether it be his hand or at the small of his back. It’s clear everyone knows they’re together, not that they made an announcement but because they are always spending time together. Where one goes, the other follows.

June, Quinn, Felix, and Y/N sit together in the green room, discussing their favorite moments from the tour. Quinn said in Amsterdam, some strangers let him join their bar hopping. He ended up finding he could not hold his liquor like they could. Felix shared it was playing at Slane Castle. They heard stories of never thinking it would be them on that stage. June made them all cry by stating that every moment on stage with them was special to her. June is going on a break after this, needing to go home and be with her family, while Y/N accepted that she would miss her best friend. Y/N shared it was exploring new studios while writing her new album.

“You have to play it for us soon!” Felix expresses.

Y/N nudges her friend, “who else would I show first?”

Quinn nudges her. “Someone named Harry.”

“Promise it’s almost done. Think I’m just missing an album name,” she shares, knowing she finished recording most songs.

Before the band can start throwing names at her, there’s a knock on the door, and Harry comes in with the Love band, all holding something behind their back. June narrows her eyes at Harry, not one for surprises, but Y/N knows this will be good.

“Y/N and band, thank you for joining us on an amazing, successful tour this year. I enjoyed listening to you every night,” Harry tells them honestly. Everyone echoes his words. “That being said, we got you a gift.”

They were all presented with a bag, and June and Quinn were quick to rip into it while Felix made sure not to make a mess. Y/N held the gift close to her chest but watched her friends open their presents first. June held a black sweater to her chest. It had her name embroidered on one side and Love on tour on the other. “Shit, we get some too!” June exclaims. “I was so jealous of y’all.”

Quinn pulls out a pair of shoes, “satellite stompers,” to be exact. His smile is wide, and he quickly bounces over to pull Harry in for a hug. “Thanks, man.”

Y/N doesn’t open hers because she was the one to give Harry their sizes, so she’s not expecting anything else.

June turns to Y/N, pointing a finger, “how did he know our sizes?” Y/N grins while June gasps accusingly. “I bitched and moaned about not having one. Is this a pity gift?”

Harry quickly assures her he wanted to give them to all of them in private. Everyone in the crew got some; he meant everyone from the band to Y/N’s photographer. Every person was necessary on this tour, and Harry wanted to make it known with a gift. Harry stepped close to Y/N and gestured for her to open hers. She gives him a suspicious look but does as he asks. She removes the jacket quickly, slipping it on when she spots a bow at the bottom. Y/N looks at him surprised because when she pulls it out, she sees it’s one she had shown him a few weeks ago. It’s an intricate bow with wildflowers embroidered on it. It has unique beading to create this delicate bow.

“The meadow bow,” she whispers, delicately touching the ends.

Harry’s cheeks warm when he sees her expression. Y/N blinks away her tears because it’s unreasonable to cry, but the fact that Harry listened to her when she went on about something as silly as her bows and ribbons. Y/N doesn’t think about what she’s about to do; she only knows she wants to thank Harry. Y/N hugs Harry, but she pulls away quickly, connecting their lips in a kiss. Harry is frozen for a second but promptly responds, both easily sinking into each other. The hollers and cheers make her break away, leaning her head on his chest.

“Sorry, H,” she sighs.

“Don’t mind. Think you should do it again.”

“Not again,” June yells. “You cute together, but I don’t want to see that.”

Harry promises to let them get ready.

“Will you be watching?” Quinn asks.

Harry nods, “we wouldn’t miss it.”

“The entire family is watching,” Gemma chimes in. Harry gasped, not knowing she had arrived.

“Gems!” Harry rushes over to scoop his older sister in a hug. Y/N knows when Gemma says the entire family, she means it. They all promised to sing their hearts out for him. Y/N had met most of them during the few shows in Wembley, but she was merely an opener, and now she is Harry’s girlfriend.

“Come on, Y/N. Mum wants to say hello,” Gemma calls for her as she drags Harry out. Y/N promises not to be long, but the band brushes her off, telling her they already have good company.

Y/N has the best time with Harry and his family. They share laughs about young Harry being nervous to sing in front of a crowd and now ending a tour with over 90,000 people. Anne can’t stop her tears, which makes Harry emotional, too. He stays cuddled at her side. Anne asks Y/N about her tour, and Y/N invites them to opening night. “Don’t know if you’d be able to make it, but it’d be lovely to have you there. My mum and a few cousins are attending.”

Anne reaches over Harry to squeeze her hand, promising to be there. “Course we’ll come. Your mum is lovely. Can’t wait to catch up.”

Starting off a tour in London was the right choice for her because she wants to be in her own bed before she sleeps in a different one each night again. Y/N excused herself, needing to prepare for one final Love on Tour show.

Y/N huddled her band before going on stage. “You are my favorite people. I feel so lucky to do this with you every night. One last night with June, let’s make it unforgettable.”

“I love you,” Felix shouts. They laugh, squeezing each other tight, echoing the words to each other. And with that, Y/N and the band take the stage one final time.

“Italy, you have been an absolute dream. Each night, every crowd welcomed us with open arms, and when you sing back my lyrics, that is something I will never forget. I couldn’t do it alone, though. My amazing, amazing band. Felix, June, and Quinn are my family. Without them, I would not be where I am, and I will never forget that. June is actually taking a break after this tour. She’s going away, but she’ll be back. The spot is open if Sarah Jones is looking for a job.” The crowd laughs while June shakes her head in disbelief but also knows Y/N would never pass up a chance to work with someone at the caliber that Sarah Jones is at. “Most importantly, thank you to Harry Styles for inviting me out on tour. It’s the best choice I could have ever made. You have shown me kindness from the first moment we met. Thank you for allowing me to use your stage each night, but most importantly, thank you for showing me how music inspires you to do good and always do better. This last song is dedicated to you, H.”

Y/N hurries off stage after playing “The Last Man on Earth” and runs straight to the dressing room, where she cries into June’s shoulder. This tour has her saying goodbye to her best friends but opening new opportunities because she knows there is a conversation she’s been dodging for some time now and knowing Harry today won’t end until he gets his way.

“That was beautiful. Every night, honestly.” Y/N steps away from June, wipes away her tears and is thankful she decided not to do her eyeliner tonight, or she’d look worse than she feels. Harry had come to see them all but mostly knew his girlfriend would need a bit of comfort.

“Harry, my man. Thank you,” Quinn answers, pulling him into a hug. Everyone does the same, but Y/N stands frozen. It seems everyone can pick up on the tension and give her a moment alone with him.

Harry hurries over and takes her in his arms. Y/N relaxes in his hold because he’s always had that calming effect on her. “You were wonderful. Had me in tears.”

Y/N giggles against his chest, “stop it.”

“Seriously,” he laughs, and Y/N feels it go through her. “Jeff was recording me, laughing at my tears.”

“Thank you, H. I know you said you’d watch, but knowing you were in the crowd made tonight even more special.”

Harry kisses the top of her head. “It was all you. Don’t know how I will survive without seeing you every day.”

“You can follow me on tour,” Y/N offers.

“Now that’s a thought.”

They settle in silence, neither one having anything to say. Simply enjoying their time together. Y/N doesn’t know how much time passes, but she knows he’s got to get dressed.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Harry whispers into the quiet of the room.

“Harry,” Y/N pulls back to look at him. Those emerald eyes are full of love, and Y/N knows it for her. She has to let herself be happy, and it’s clear Harry is a big part of bringing that joy to her life.

“I like you,” he repeats. “And I’ll keep liking you tomorrow and every day that is to come. I’m letting you know how I feel. We’ve discussed it, but it doesn’t mean I can’t remind you. Will forever be crazy about you.”

“I’m crazy about you, too,” Y/N breathes out. “You fill me with so much happiness.”

Harry smirks, “enough to join me on holiday for a few more days?”

She looks at him, confused.

“My family and a few friends are spending time in my home here. If you’d like to join us–join me,” he offers timidly.

“You mean it?”

Harry nods, “nothing better than you in a bikini,” he teases.

She slaps his shoulder, “I’m there.”

“Good.”

Harry kisses Y/N. She is quick to soften beneath him and eagerly reciprocates the kiss. Y/N loves his touch, and with each kiss, she feels herself heat up and knows where this could lead, but there is just no time. “Harry,” she mutters against him. “You’ve got to get ready.”

He sighs against her, “one more.”

Y/N happily agrees.

Y/N can’t stop her hands from shaking. She’s done everything she could think of, from doing math problems in her head to focusing on her breathing, yet nothing is working as she waits for Harry to introduce her.

“I don’t know if many of you know, but I personally requested for Y/N to join us on tour. I didn’t know if she would be available, but my manager told me to have hope, and here we are now. I-I-honestly know she’s one of our generation's best writers and singers. I feel fortunate to have shared this time with her. Something none of you know is that Y/N loves playing my piano. She’s written a lot of her second album on it. So I thought it would be fitting to bring it out and sing with her. Everyone, please welcome Y/N!”

She walks out from behind the stage. Y/N waves at the crowd she had greeted an hour earlier. Y/N feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest. It wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with; it was something she told the crowd.

“Feel special. Y/N is the definition of calm and collected,” Harry teases. “Now, this is Y/N’s song, and I thought maybe you’d want to hear a bit.”

“It’s called ‘Right Now’. I hope you enjoy.” They had planned this: Harry would play the keys, and Y/N would sing, but for some reason, her nerves were getting the best of her, and Harry started the song for her. Hearing Harry sing her lyrics comforted her because he genuinely enjoyed her music. Her voice blended in with Harry’s before it was her all alone. Y/N stayed on the bench with Harry, feeling too vulnerable to go out to the crowd. It was insane debuting a song to a crowd that maybe wouldn’t relate to her words, but she sang with every emotion she could pour out for the odd chance that someone did. Y/N felt Harry’s eyes on her and turned to smile at him. Thanks to Harry, she finished this album and finished this song. These songs weren’t written about him; they have him intertwined in the stories she’ll share about this album.

Before she knows it, she’s singing the final lyric, and Harry plays the last note. “Everyone, Y/N!” The applause is thunderous, making Y/N tear up. She tries to imprint this moment in her mind because she never wants to forget it. Harry walks her off as the piano is taken away, though none of the fans know it will return by the night's end. Harry leaves her backstage, wiping away the few tears that escaped her.

“Thank you, that was beautiful,” he kissed her cheek.

He goes to walk away, but Y/N pulls him back in by his vest and kisses him. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck, holding her to him as he devoured her mouth. “I’m so lucky to have you,” she breathes out.

Harry is tempted to kiss her again, but he knows if he does, he’ll get lost in her and can’t do that when he has a show to return to. “It’s me. I’m the lucky one. ” He runs back, asking the crowd if they’re ready to do some dancing. The cheers are enough for him to continue on.

The show goes on, and Y/N has the time of her life. She goes out after her song to dance and sing with his family in the crowd. Harry finds them all easily, but the tears don’t stop when he takes his time to thank his mum and sister. To thank his friends who have been there from the start, Y/N knows he’s including her in the thank you’s because he reminds her time and time again that she changed his life in a way he never expected.

Y/N knew about the ballad he would be playing on the piano. It’s something they worked on together, but something she didn’t expect was the quietness of the crowd. There is no sound except a few people crying as this lovely melody fills the area.

Harry walks off the stage in tears, and the band soon follows. Y/N knew she’d be emotional, but she can’t seem to stop crying. She walks hand in hand with June backstage, where she sees Harry hugging his mother and moving on to his sister. They all huddle in Harry’s dressing room as they erupt in cheers, celebrating the end of the tour. Y/N knows she’ll find a minute with him alone but, for now observes Harry being showered in the love he deserves. The room slowly began to filter out, giving Harry a moment to shower and change out of his clothes, but before she could leave, she felt someone grab her wrist, and the door shut behind her. Harry stood in front of her dimpled smile on his face. His emerald eyes were shining bright.

Happiness looked good on him.

“Congrats on a successful tour, Harry!” Y/N wrapped him in a hug, aware of his bare chest.

His arms held her tight as he swayed her side to side. “Thank you for writing that song with me.”

“Our first of many,” she promises.

Harry breathes her in, letting them stand in silence, soaking in the moment. This is a day they both would look back at fondly. It’s a story they’ll tell their future children.

“Thank you for bringing love to me,” Harry whispers. He loved touring and, at times, found it lonely, but ever since Y/N joined, it’s like he found his missing half. He never felt alone because he knew she was always close by.

Y/N shakes her head, “think it was all you.”

Harry ponders for a second. He was the one with the idea to bring her on as a tour opener. “Think it was.”

He connects his mouth with hers in a passionate kiss. She feels him grin against her as he pushes her against the door. His hands roam her back before resting on her waist while hers find a home in his hair. Y/N had been craving him since he kissed her halfway through his show. She kissed him, hoping her mouth said everything she hadn’t spoken aloud.

Y/N knows this is the next part of her story. It’s not ending or starting; she’s simply turning the page to create a new chapter. Y/N has no idea where she’ll be in one year, let alone five, but one thing she does know for certain is that she loves Harry.

thank you for reading 💜💜💜 please feel free to send me a message of what you loved from the story

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