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purplekiwis · 1 year

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You've got a new professor, and an obsession with his hands...

Genre: Sculptor!Harry | Professor!Harry x Student!Y/N

Warnings: +18 (smut... but not yet)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: i'm not the best at photomontages so please don't roast me, I tried 😅

THIS IS A MULTI-PART SERIES. YOU CAN CHECK THE SERIES MASTERPOST : HERE AND PART 2 HERE

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Hands.

His were artful,

Perhaps even an art form in and of themselves: smooth, veiny, with steady joints and capable and patient fingertips.

The hands of a craftsman - suitable for creating planets, galaxies, and even entire universes if they so desired. Both harsh and gentle, they tore, kneaded, and poked… only to stroke softly in the end.

The hands of a lover,

Those were my ceramics professor’s hands.

I bit the hidden part of my lip as I watched them move with conviction. Across the slickness, bare and sticky as they pried deeper and deeper, widening as they went and doing as they pleased.

I felt the urge to push my thighs together as I seemingly always did whenever my professor came closer, but I couldn’t because of the potter's wheel blocking my way - the one where he was fixing the crooked clay pot I had tried to make. “Next time, try using a little less water, okay? Your clay has gotten too soft… that’s why you're having trouble getting it even.”

“So less water than this time, but more than last time?” My struggle to get it right made me feel a little embarrassed, but I wanted him to know that I was listening and trying my best. He nodded in response to my question. “Okay, um- I'll try to do it correctly next time. Thanks for resurrecting my project and making it right again.”

My professor smiled warmly at me, noticing I was becoming discouraged by making so many mistakes. “No worries, I’m happy to help.” I watched him as he stood up, washed his hands in my water bowl and dried them on the rag he kept in his pottery apron. “Don't be afraid to muck around with what I've made. You're supposed to take it apart and rebuild it.”

“If I touch it, I'll ruin it and you'll need to come back for assistance again.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. “I don't want you worrying about that. That’s why I’m here, to fix up your messes.” He sat on the stool next to me again for a moment, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low. “I want you to take it less seriously. Have fun with it — work it ‘til your wreck it. Don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s common blunder for someone who’s starting. We’ve all been there.”

“Thanks,” I smiled a little more assuredly. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

He smiled back as he stood up from the stool. “No problem, just ask if you need anything.”

While I wasn’t sure how I got into the habit of fantasizing about my professor's hands, I did know how I ended up in his class.

I was a Product Design student.

Frankly, only because I didn’t have the grades to enroll in Interior Design like I’d always aspired to. Product Design was the second-best option that would still give me a chance of breaking into the field if I chose my classes wisely.

In order to achieve that goal, I had been planning to take a class on inclusive design this year. However, as I was about to submit my application, my computer crashed, forcing me to reenter all of my information again. Because of this, by the time I made it back to the page, most of the students had already chosen, leaving only statistical literacy and ceramics as open options.

None of those options had even the slightest appeal to me, which naturally made me incredibly frustrated at the time but, at least the choice was clear between them. Anything with the word statistics in it sounded absolutely dreadful and combining it with the word literacy somehow made it sound even worse… so I chose ceramics, despite the fact that I had never tried my hand at it.

That was why I was now behind all of my classmates, which didn't make me feel great, even though no one had made me feel inferior about my lack of skill yet… not even our professor. He was very sweet and attentive, without always being on top of me, which I appreciated. He gave me the freedom to try things on my own, but as soon as he noticed my eyes searching for him, he'd come over to check things out and lend a helping hand.

This wasn't always a positive thing because sometimes the only reason I was looking was because I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn't just his hands that I kept staring at; I found him captivating in all aspects.

His hair was cool. I liked how he kept it in a messy bun and tucked flyaways behind his ears when they landed on his face. He dressed really cute too, I thought — creative yet casual, and the stubble he occasionally sported when he neglected to shave was sexy as hell.

I wasn’t fully aware of his age, but he couldn't have been much older than me when he had finished his Ph.D. in Fine Arts the previous year. In the rumor mill, he had been invited to teach shortly after earning his degree due to his extraordinary talent for clay sculpting, that had made him stand out at our university ever since he started studying there.

He hadn't shown much of his personal work outside of what he did during his school years, but I had heard through the grapevine that erotic themes were his specialty. Another thing I had heard was that because he made art under a pseudonym that he kept as a secret from most people, his work was very difficult to find online.

That bothered me a little because I was interested and wanted to see it, especially after learning that pleasure was the subject he enjoyed exploring the most. Among my classmates, I knew some made jokes about him being a pervert who had only wanted to come teach to score with the female students. My gut told me that wasn't the case, and I was miffed by those people who couldn’t comprehend that someone could find sex fascinating enough to want to depict it in most of their art without being sleazy. Fortunately, I wasn't one of them. I found sex to be an intriguing topic as well… I enjoyed having it, looking at it, and having thoughtful conversations about it.

“Professor,” I called as we finished class. I was still sat by my wheel, while everyone was cleaning and washing up. Being completely honest, I wanted to leave as well… but I made myself stay so I could make my pot look more presentable. “If you're leaving, could you please leave the room key with me? I was planning to stay a little longer.”

He seemed surprised that I wanted to stay.

I noticed his gaze fall on the collapsing walls of my pot as he handed me the key, but he was merciful enough not to comment. “Feel free to stay as long as you like. I'm taking a coffee break, but I'll be back as well.”

Finding that my professor was coming back made the prospect of staying more enticing. I wasn't expecting a lot of interaction with him, though… I didn't want to be a bother, so I would avoid requesting his assistance. It was already embarrassing enough to ask for it in class, even if he kept assuring me it was perfectly okay to do so…

Professor Harry returned to the classroom after about 10 minutes, seeming happy to find me still there. As he walked inside, he cracked a lighthearted joke about how surprised he was that I hadn't destroyed anything yet. I snorted a laugh and said that I was surprised too.

I observed him carefully as he re-tied his apron around his waist. It seemed like everything the man did attracted me. The way his triceps flexed with movement, the contours of his back, the ease with which his fingers tied the knot. None of these things escaped my attention.

“Would it be okay if I turned on some music?” Due to my dry mouth, it took me longer than it should have to answer his question. “I'm not a big fan of working in silence, but it’s okay if you are…”

“Oh, please, go ahead.” I was finally able to react, but my voice came out weird. “I don't particularly enjoy working in silence either...”

My professor smiled, then walked over to his desk and sat down at his laptop. “Have you got any special requests?”

I pretended to contemplate for a moment, but I didn't want to be the one picking the music. I wanted him to choose because I was nervous about accidentally having him listen to something he didn't like… and I was also curious about his musical tastes. “Not really, no. I'm not picky. I like most music.” That part was true, but he seemed skeptical. “Just pretend I'm not here and play whatever music you normally listen to.”

The look on his face was still skeptical, but he agreed. “Okay, I will. Just let me know if you don't like it so I can switch to something you like best.”

He put on Woodkid's Warm Core album and looked at me to see if I was keen on the choice. “This is cool. I like it.” It was the kind of alternative music I anticipated he would listen to, being an artist and all, and it made me happy because I also liked it.

“Alright, good. If at any point you decide that you no longer like it, feel free to request a change.” I was getting a little hot over how much he was focusing on making sure I liked his music. I’d always had this conviction that one of the ways to tell if a guy is good in bed is to look for signs that he is considerate and eager to please – and already, my professor was scoring points in that department. I glanced at him, and I believe he noticed because he asked, “Is there anything you need help with, or should I just let you do your thing and keep to myself?”

“Um…” I stammered, returning my attention to the horrible looking pot I was working on. I had been right the first time. I shouldn't have touched it after he fixed it for me. “I'm holding up for now. Thanks, professor.”

He smiled at me. “You can leave out the “professor” when we're outside of class. That term is still settling in for me… it's a bit off-putting to be addressed that way when I was also a student here just a year ago - especially when I can't be that much older than you, right?”

I joined him in his smile. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I suppose it's not weird for me because I don't remember seeing you at school last year. How old are you, though, just out of curiosity?”

“I’m 27, you?”

“Wow, you’re really old...” He wasn’t, really… especially since I had assumed he would be in his thirties, given that he was a professor and all. I snorted when he side-eyed me from across the room, where he’d been tidying up and organizing the equipment the students had left behind. “I was just kidding. I'm 22, so...”

His brows furrowed slightly in response to my reveal. “So you're a little older than the rest of the class. Makes sense, you seem a bit more grown-up in comparison to them.” I took that as a compliment because, while my classmates weren't much younger than me – they had to be around 19 – some still acted like teenagers in many ways. “Also, since you mentioned not seeing me at school last year… that’s because I went abroad for a few months to study, and then I had to wrap up my thesis, so I didn't come very often.”

“Oh, that's cool. Where did you go?”

“Norway, to Oslo more specifically. It's a city I think everyone should visit if they ever get the chance to. I had a wonderful time there.” He turned his head away from what he was doing to look at me. “Have you ever thought about going abroad for school?”

“I've thought about it, but I don’t know. It doesn't really call to me right now, to be honest... maybe next year.” I was really interested in hearing more about Harry's experience in Norway, so I shifted the focus of the conversation back to that. “What was the best part of it for you?”

I could tell he was excited to talk about it, as evidenced by the sparkle in his eye. “A difficult question, that. I loved the landscapes and food there, as well as the people. Oslo’s a beautiful city, and it has an amazing art scene that's definitely worth exploring.” He paused for a moment, laughed, and then spoke again, “But I guess I should say that meeting Astrid, my girlfriend, was probably the best part.”

“Wow, that's... something.” Something I'd rather he didn't have, I thought to myself despite my amenable expression. “Has she traveled all the way here with you?”

“Oh no, she stayed in Oslo. We've been doing long-distance and stuff… it isn't always easy, but we make it work.” I could tell by the look on his face that he had somewhat regretted sharing that with me. “Anyway, you should give the studying abroad thing some more thought... you seem like someone who would enjoy that kind of thing. You give off a good vibe.”

“Ha, thanks... so do you. I really like your style.”

I saw his cheeks flush at my compliment. “I don’t put a lot of thought into my clothes, to be honest. Most of the time, I just throw on whatever.”

“Well, it works, so...” Seeing me shrug, he smiled, but said nothing further. I figured the conversation was over and got back to my work. Harry did the same thing; except he was no longer cleaning up and was instead using his laptop. Even though I stayed another hour, he didn't leave until I did, which made me feel bad because it made me wonder if he had stayed on purpose to be there in case I needed anything. “Do you usually stay here until this late?” I inquired as he closed the classroom door.

“Um… it depends, sometimes I do, but if you weren't here I would’ve probably left earlier.”

His confession caused a small contraction in my heart. I now regretted staying for so long, especially since I had spent some of that time merely acting as though I was working. “Oh, I'm so sorry. You didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine by myself. I just wanted to practice.”

“Oh no, don't get me wrong. I stayed longer because I wanted to. I live alone, so… I am by myself a lot. It was nice to have company for a change.”

“Ah, I see...” That was something I hadn’t considered before, but it made sense. Most of Harry’s university friends were probably no longer around, or if they were, perhaps he'd lost touch with them after going away for so many months. That had happened to me with my high school friends, so I knew how it felt. “I was actually planning on doing this more frequently to see if I could improve my pottery skills, so… you're welcome to keep me company if that's something you'd like to do.”

He acknowledged my invitation with a courteous smile. “Ah, thanks. I appreciate that.” When he didn't respond right away, I assumed he wasn't interested, which made me feel stupid for having suggested it. Why would he want to spend time with a student five years his junior? He was probably cringing at the thought. That was what I was assuming, until he started speaking again after a pause. “I reckon as long as you really don't mind me being around, that could be something that works for me.”

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Over the course of a couple of weeks, it became a habit for me and Harry to spend time together after class. Most times, more than once a week. The days when I didn’t have class until late, I would wander to the atelier after his class and spend the next few hours there. It was really easy to get along despite our slight age difference.

I didn't know Harry well enough to say that we had a lot in common, but we just clicked really well. Having a conversation with him was easy, and his presence was warm and reassuring.

We would sometimes work separately, but Harry had taken it upon himself to teach me the things I had been falling behind on. He taught me how to use a kiln to fire and glaze pottery, as well as a bunch of different building and decorating techniques. I liked the last one most because he got to sit next to me and help me paint and texturize. I was really proud of a mug we had made together. Harry had commented that the wavy handle I had made for it looked like the tail of a fish when we put it in, so we went on to decorate the rest of the mug to fit that concept.

“You’re a good painter…” He complimented me as I painted the fish’s fins. I wrinkled my nose at him. Painting had always been a fun activity for me, but I had never considered myself good at it. Harry, on the other hand, was a true artist, thanks to his Fine Arts training and skillful hands…

I looked at the fin I'd drawn and noticed that it was unmistakably more unsightly than the one on the picture I was taking inspiration from. Harry couldn't possibly believe I was talented as a painter. He was just trying to say something nice.

“What? I'm serious…” He assured me, appearing a little surprised by my doubtful demeanor. “And you have a great eye for color too.”

“Hmm, I find that last one is a little more believable; I'll take it.” I said before returning to straightening out my wonkiest brush strokes. I'd spent enough time designing pretty rooms in Intericad Lite to feel reasonably confident on my ability to mix and match colors so, accepting that compliment wasn't too difficult. Besides that isn’t really a talent, is it? It's something a lot of people have.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice drew my attention back to him. “I meant both of the things I said. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t.”

The seriousness I was met with when I looked into Harry's eyes made me feel emotional and flustered at the same time. “Thanks,” I smiled a little before looking down at my mug. “I think I haven't gotten a compliment on my painting skills since I was a little kid…”

“You used to get compliments on it when you were little?”

“Sometimes, yeah… mainly from teachers because I always colored inside the lines.”

“I think it's really unfortunate that we stop getting compliments as we get older… I can't really complain because I've been lucky to grow up in a supportive environment, but I know that after a certain point in most people’s lives criticism becomes the norm, while praise for rightdoing is never given.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I grabbed another brush and continued to color my mug because the topic we were discussing was now making me feel like I might actually start crying if I didn't keep my emotions under control, and I didn’t want Harry to see that. “My parents were never particularly supportive of me or my interests, so I haven’t felt much of a difference as I grew older… I think that’s why I find it a bit difficult to accept people’s compliments nowadays, though. I tend to doubt myself and others a lot.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I had a hunch that was the case with you.” Harry’s statement surprised me a bit. I knew professors could usually read their students well, but I wasn't aware of how see-through I was. “When we first started class, I was a little nervous because I could tell that you were lost at times and could use some help, but I wasn't sure of how to approach you. I was afraid that if I made it known that I could tell you were struggling, you would withdraw even further. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to feel comfortable and know that I wouldn't judge you.”

“You never made me feel uncomfortable… I just felt embarrassed to ask for help because everyone in your class comes from an arts background and knows more than me. I didn't want you to think I was dumb or that I was wasting your time with questions that I should have known the answers to.”

“You could never waste my time. I like teaching you a lot… you always listen and all the questions you ask are perfectly normal.” He gave me a reassuring smile and I felt my insecurities melt away with the rest of my body. “And on top of that, it's easier for me to teach you since you are a blank slate, as opposed to some of the art students who come with stubborn vices they won't get rid of. Experience isn’t always an advantage.”

“You're a really good professor, Harry.” I said truthfully. “I'm really glad I ended up in your class, even if it wasn’t my first choice.”

“It wasn't your first choice?” His face pretended to be shocked, but I knew he wasn't. Given that I had told him about my goal to pursue a career in Interior Design, I knew he had to have known by that point that there was no reason for me to be in his class other than by chance. “Okay, now I'm offended, and no amount of ego-puffing will help you remedy that…”

I shook my head and smiled at his antics as I dipped my brush back into the paint palette. “Not even if I admit you're really cool to talk to and have great musical taste?”

Following my brush dip, Harry dipped his as well. “Give me a little more detail on that and I might re-consider.”

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I hope you guys liked this first part 💜

PART 2

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0oolookitsme · 2 years

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Hi! Since it’s Mother’s Day today, could you write about dad!harry? Maybe something about Harry waking up early in the morning, goes to the bub’s (you decide if it’s a little girl or a little boy) nursery and since theyre wide awake he takes them and brings them to the kitchen where they start preparing some breakfast (in bed) for reader and then they bring it to her and Harry wakes her up by placing The bub on top of her and they start kissing sloppily reader’s face while giggling and smacking her face in order to wake her up, just something cute and fluff pleasee❤️

Title- Mama's Day

Type- One-Shoty Blurb!

Verse- Artist!Harry x Housewife(tuition teacher)!Y/n

Word Count- 1.0k

Warnings- None! Just not proofread, hehe

A/N- Okay, so I didn't want to write this request in my already created pairings just cause I've written (posted) too much in them recently. So, I decided why not I represent my most simple pairing -which is currently a wip, to you guys! I hope you enjoy reading this cottage-core fluff, as much as I liked writing this <333

Hope you like this anon, thanks for requesting! <3

---

Lemon-yellow shaded rays of sun peeked inside their room through the small gap between the two sage coloured curtains. Every thing was still except for the dust -stardust, perhaps, which could be seen only in the sunshine. The sound of their fan spinning at it's fastest speed couldn't drown out y/n's snores, who was sleeping on her stomach next to him.

Her cheek was smushed against the mattress as she had her face turned away from him, and towards where the baby's wooden crib was situated. It was about time that the baby would wake up and giggle, making grabby hands in the empty air or towards the moon toy that hung in the middle, on a thread -a creative craft performed by Y/n, which she never shuts up about.

Softly, Harry traced his fingers over the strand of hair that coiled on her cheek, brushing it away from there as to prevent any sweat from breaking out. A gentle smile had his lips curled upside as he gazed at his wife of 2 years, and his baby's mama of 1 year. He was just leaning down to place a peck on her cupid's bow when he notices movement through the corner of his eyes.

He sighs in content when he sees the chubby and fisted hands raise up and then, small quaky giggles reach his ears.

Quickly, he presses a soft kiss on her cheek and removes the mattress from over his lower body, gets out of bed and walks to his baby. Picking up the little girl who's dressed in her sky blue night jumper, he raises her up in the air, grinning at her. He brings her closer to him and presses a kiss on each of her full cheeks.

"Good morning!" He greets her in a shushed yet high pitched voice, smiling afterwards as though accepting her greeting -which was a giggle. "Let's get out of here, shall we?" He asks, not expecting any answer in return as he tip-toes on the wooden floor, out of the room.

Weaving his hands through his hair to fix them roughly, he continued his walk further in hall after he was satisfied with his reflection he saw in the glass window. Returning back to open it.

"Do you know what day it is today?" He asks, hoping to have her attention on him from where it was set on the jar of honey on the dining table. The baby does squeak, making him pass her an open mouthed grin. "S' Mama's Day!! We're gonna play as your mama's servants today, hahah."

Harry places Opal in her baby chair, which had toys attached to it, after placing a sucker in her mouth. He would like it calm and peace while he cooks, cause if he were to multitask while cooking, he'd surely put the kitchen on fire.

Adding milk to the readymade powder he had bought from the general store, he mixes the batter with a fork, unable to find the whisk. On the other hand, he turns on the knob of the stove and places a pan on it, letting it heat till he readies the mixture.

Though, after a while of mixing, he drops of slice of butter in the pan and immediately coughs when a huge amount of smoke blows up. He's sorry for himself when he realizes that the gas was turned on on high level. Turning it down to low, he waits for the gray air to go out before pouring in the batter in small circular shapes, spreading them into bigger circles one by one and flipping them, till the very last pancake he counts gets the number 8.

Big and thick 8 pancakes seem to be enough for a family of three. Yeah he'd add juice or milk in a glass alongside.

He lathers the top pancake with Nutella, and then picks it up to pour maple syrup on the rest. Then, he adds few blue berries on top of the stack of delicious smelling breakfast and pours some homemade mango shake in two glasses, some hot milk the baby bottle for Opal.

Backing away, he admires his creation from afar before wiping the sweat off his forehead, and then wiping the back of his hand on his trousers. Everything's perfect. Now, only one thing is left.

He goes to pick up Opal from her chair, where she's getting sleepy again and wraps her in a hug before walking out of kitchen, across the hall and into his and y/n's room. "Wake y' mama up, yeah?" He requests the little one before placing her on Y/n's stomach, surprised that she's sleeping on her back.

He moves to go back but stops at the doorway and takes a glance towards the sight on the bed. Their he sees Opal crawling up y/n's stomach and onto her chest like a small snail, before she's met with he mama's face and attacks it with kisses and slight smacks of her hands, at which Harry internally hisses.

When a groan passes through y/n's lips, Harry makes a run towards the kitchen. There, he quickly takes out the foldable tiny table from in-between the fridge and the slab and opens it, placing it on the counter. Proceeding with placing the breakfast plates and glasses neatly, he carries it back towards the room carefully.

"Ta-daa! Good morning and especially, Happy Mother's Day, Mama!" He cheers, taking the table to the bed and placing it over y/n's lower body as she had sat up when she saw him enter the room with the breakfast, Opal sitting beside her right hip, slapping her hands down on the mattress and grinning a toothless smile.

With a hum, y/n raises up her head as if asking for a kiss, and mumbles a crooked "thank you," after receiving it with a smile.

"The best mama in the whole world, you are," Harry mumbles as y/n remains cuddled into him, Opal dozed off in her bassinet after her feeding. Softly, his fingers strum beats on y/n's cheek.

"The breakfast was as amazing as ever, you might wanna make it everyday from now on," y/n says with a chuckle, laughing when she gets a reply saying, "Sure madam, but Ms. Opal will also need to wake up perhaps I need attention while doing everything."

#harry styles #harry styles ff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles concept #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #husband!harry #dad!harry #artist!harry #housewife!reader

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clarey-potter · 2 years

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Summary: Harry's running late to his weekly figure drawing class. He's in for a surprise when the live—and very naked—model turns out to be Draco Malfoy.

Rating: Explicit; No Major Archive Warnings

Length: 4.7k Harry shook his head again and traced the curve of Malfoy’s arm, the supple edge of his bicep. He finished the shape of Malfoy’s torso and arms before he paused, pencil poised just below his belly button and the trail of fine blond hair that led tantalizingly downward.

Malfoy laughed, a bright, piercing sound. “Scared, Potter?” His eyes darted to his own exposed groin and back to Harry, lips curving into a dangerous smile.

read it now on ao3!

#drarry #drarry fic #artist!harry #nudemodel!draco #4.7k #fic recs #harry potter #draco malfoy #my writing #drarry smut #smut #figure drawing #it's an artsy self-indulgent fic ok #pls enjoy #drarry one shot #drarry short

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stylesandnicks · 2 years

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Sneaky sneak of something you are working on pls👁

I have not formed words 🤣. I just have formed like a map:

I’m making a one shot of Artist Harry.

I have sort of based it off Warhol because he is my favorite artist.

Mc works in a coffee shop that he frequents in.

She also lives in an apartment across from his.

He is going to be a very hopeless romantic type being.

Lady Gaga might be involved.

As for Bunny King:

Mc is brought to his castle hired as a maid for the queen’s section.

The queen is Camille and she is not pleasant.

I have based some parts on the movie The Favourite.

He has a deep connection with rabbits and collects them in his private room.

He and Mc have met before but she does not know how.

This will be a multi probably.

He is also a hopeless romantic being.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #artist!harry #king!harry

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party-in-the-front · 7 months

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Hey, here's the full set of the brand new Disco Elysium pics!

Prints are available, and maybe these work well in poster format (which inprnt started doing a while ago)?

I'm sad I didn't get to draw any cars, would be nice to do 1 more, but I need to move on... Also, there has been a promo on all summer at inprnt that might end soon, so these are at 35% off right now!

#illustration #disco elysium #partyinthefront #harry du bois #rpg #kim kitsuragi #insulindian phasmid #cuno #cunoesse #artists on tumblr #de fanart #fanart

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yeehawpim · 7 months

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a comic about my weird irreverence for canon

go write a bad ending AU! ship your self-insert oc with your favourite villain!! the world's your oyster!!!

#original comic #fanfic #artists on tumblr #canon #game of thrones #oc #undertale #ao3 #underfell #underswap #fresh sans #undertale aus #harry potter #onceler #dnd #tumblr rp #my comic #my art #for the record i havent actually seen a onceler vs joffery fic before but I kind of want it in my life now

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cusn0 · 4 months

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they're doing the pulp fiction dance

gonna make myself an acrylic figure from this art and, maybe, a poster too since i kinda love it.

#cusn art #disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #disco elysium art #artists on tumblr #harrykim #kimharry #digital art #illustration #old man yaoi #de harry #de kim #disco elysium harry #disco elysium fanart #disco elysium kim #de #art

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myartcloudsstuff · 2 months

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Hottie

#artists on tumblr #art #hp fanart #he’s sooooo #i love his smile #i love his face #i love him #harry potter #harry james potter #harry x draco #he’s my little guy

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ivmaruva · 2 months

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“He’s just a boy.”

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanart #my art #procreate artist #draco lucius malfoy #6th year Draco #harry potter fanart

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lemoncrushh · 21 days

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Tattooed Heart - Part VI

SUMMARY: You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion.

PAIRING: Waitress Y/N x Artist/Tattoo Artist Harry

TROPES: Enemies to Lovers

MUST BE 18+ TO READ

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

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“Hey, gorgeous! How are you? I’ve been so worried about you!” John exclaimed enthusiastically into the phone.

“I’m pretty good, actually. How are things at Zelda’s?” While you didn’t necessarily want to know the answer, you’d always considered John a friend and knew he had your back. Which was why you decided to give him a call.

“Oh girl, things have changed dramatically since you left!”

“Really?”

“Yes! We got a new manager. His name is Rafael, but we’re allowed to call him Rafi. He’s a dish and a half, let me tell you! Not like that last asshole.”

You chuckled. “Good, I’m glad for you.”

“Yeah, sucks for you though! If only you could have stayed. Hey, want me to put a good in for you with Rafi?”

“Um…no, that’s okay, John. I’m kind of happy where I am.”

“Seriously? Where’s that?”

You told your friend about working at the cafe. Then proceeded to tell him how Harry got you the job.

“To make a long story short,” you said, trying to do just that, “he’s not the jerk he appeared to be. And…well…now we’re dating.”

“Hold up! Stop right there. Rewind! I need to hear everything, Y/N! EVERYTHING!”

You laughed at the way John enunciated every syllable. And you’d expected as much. For the next hour, you went into every detail with him like he requested (at least as much as you were willing to divulge), and by the time you finished, it was time to get ready for your date with Harry.

“Oh my God, girl, that’s so crazy!” squealed John. “But I’m happy for you. If you’re happy.”

“I am.”

“Good. Just don’t forget about me, okay? Pop in some time, maybe with Handsome.”

“I will,” you promised.

After pulling on a pair of jeans and a stylish top, you brushed your hair and touched up your makeup. You were meeting Harry at his place, where he was making you dinner again, and then you were going to a movie. It seemed to be the first Saturday you were both off since you’d met. And you were looking forward to having a normal, mundane date night.

The last couple weeks had been both hectic and amazing. Since that evening at the gallery, Harry had been extremely busy finishing up his moon series paintings. Donovan McNulty had still been showing interest in Harry’s art, and specifically voiced that he wanted to know the minute his newest pieces would be available. And you’d been picking up extra shifts at the diner to make a little extra money. But any moment you were both free had been spent together. You took turns, rotating your visits at each others’ apartments. You enjoyed leaning against his kitchen counter while you watched him cook, and Harry enjoyed teasing Shae when she was around, and nibbling on the soft spot behind your ear as you watched TV when she wasn’t there - and sometimes when she was.

Your feelings for him were growing daily, and while you told yourself it was still too soon to have such feelings, you used your free time away from him to write them down. You expressed every emotion from the way your heart skipped when you’d see him sitting in his usual chair at the cafe, to the way your body ached for him as you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling. You even included the way it had felt when you’d seen Nicolette at the cafe and at the gallery, even though Harry assured you tenfold that he had broken off all contact with her. You didn’t want to be jealous of his ex. You knew deep down that it would not bode well if you were going to take this relationship to the next level. And you definitely wanted to.

Harry greeted you with a smile as he opened the door, a glass of wine already in his hand waiting for you. When you stepped inside, you gave him a quick kiss before accepting the glass and taking a sip.

“Mmm, something smells yummy!,” you commented, turning for the kitchen.

“Chicken Piccata with roasted radicchio and sweet potatoes,” Harry announced proudly as he followed you. “It’s almost ready.”

“Chef Styles, when are you opening your own restaurant? This is way too impressive for just me.”

“You’re the only one I care to impress,” he said, pushing your hair from your neck to softly brush his lips across your tender flesh.

You reached behind you for his hands, bringing his arms around your waist. He hummed against your skin as he gave you a squeeze. The timer on the oven sounded then with a friendly chime, and Harry hesitantly released you in order to remove its contents. Watching him serve up the meal, you joined him at the table with your wine.

“I have some news,” he announced after you’d taken your first bite and raved about its deliciousness.

“Oh? What is it?” you asked enthusiastically.

“I’m having another gallery showing. For the moon series.” Harry stabbed his fork into his chicken before lifting his eyes to you.

“Are you kidding? That was quick!”

“Well, yeah,” he grinned. “I brought them yesterday for Sherrod to see. Apparently he phoned McNulty, gave him some rubbish about how brilliant they are, and he’s flying down Thursday to see for himself.”

Quickly dismissing the fact that he’d degraded his own art, because you knew he didn’t really think it was rubbish, you focused on the positive.

“Oh my God, Harry! That’s wonderful! I’m really proud of you.”

“I know, babe. And I appreciate all the support you’ve given me. You'll never know how much.”

“I have an idea,” you jested. “You spoil me with this delicious food.”

“That’s just because I can,” he winked. “And because I want to. It’s not a payment.”

“Good to know,” you said before popping a bite of sweet potato in your mouth.

“I would like your help with something, though.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Could you help spread the word about the exhibit?” Harry requested. “Maybe invite some friends? The more the better. The cocktail party was nice, but I’d like it to be a massive event.”

“Ooh, yes! I’d love to!”

Rising from your chair, you reached over the table to plant a kiss on Harry’s lips, to which he happily accepted.

“When would you like to get your tattoo?” Harry asked as you laid twisted in the sheets, his bare thigh crossed over yours, his fingertips tracing nonexistent lines down your arm.

You turned your head to the side to look at him. If it was possible, he appeared even more beautiful than ever, his eyelids heavy, his pillowy lips swollen, his scruffy jaw threatening to produce more facial hair now that the morning was nigh. The evening of lovemaking had been blissful, Harry having brought you to orgasm not once, not twice…but three times. And while you worried you’d never walk again, the man beside you looked completely fucked.

You couldn’t help but be elated by the knowledge that you’d made that happen.

“I’m not sure yet,” you whispered, reaching for his stubbly chin. “Soon, I guess.”

You felt Harry breathe out of his nose, and while he tried to hide it, you could detect the frown on his lips.

“Do you not want it?” he inquired after a beat.

“I…no, I do,” you nodded.

“‘Cause you don’t have to get it,” Harry added. “The one I designed, or any other one. If you don’t want a tattoo, it’s fine. I’ll understand.”

“No, I want one.”

Harry continued to draw his finger down your arm. You could tell the conversation wasn’t over, but you were unsure what else to say. So you let Harry gather his thoughts instead. Finally he sighed, his gaze returning to your face.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“What for?” you asked.

“If I made you uncomfortable. It just dawned on me that I might have been a bit presumptuous with the tattoo. I know they can be very personal, and I…I should have just let you pick what you want.”

Blinking, you rolled over onto your side to face him. “Harry, no. That’s not it at all. I love the one you designed. I told you I loved that painting.”

“Then what is it?” Harry lifted a hand to brush your hair from your face, twisting the end of the strands between his fingers. “Any time I bring it up, you kind of hesitate or change the subject.”

“I…I didn’t realize,” you looked down at his chest. “I apologize.”

“Baby, look at me,” he insisted, urging your chin up. “Talk to me. Are you af-”

You stopped him mid-sentence with your finger on his lips. As you shook your head, Harry chuckled. Then tugging on your wrist, he released your hand from his mouth.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” he remarked.

“Just don’t use that word.”

“Alright,” he softened his expression, returning his fingers to your hair. “Am I moving too fast for you? Is that it?”

You gulped and sucked in your lips. Then you let out a nervous chuckle of your own. “It seems ridiculous to admit that after what we just did.”

“Not really,” Harry shook his head. “Sex can be separate from feelings. Although…I’m going to confess right now…for me…it’s not. Not with you.”

“Harry…” you breathed.

“Babe…” he murmured, pulling you closer. “I reckon I’ve conveyed my feelings for you already…at least a little bit. But if you need me to back off…I will.”

You stared at him, this gorgeous man. You couldn’t believe in just a few weeks you’d gone from hating him to…whatever this was.

“No,” you argued. “I don’t want you to.”

“No?”

“No, because…I’m feeling…things too.”

Harry’s voluptuous mouth curved into a sexy grin. You felt his hand on your back, his fingers dancing up your flesh.

“I’m just…a little hesitant, I guess,” you added, “about getting the tattoo…because it’s such an intimate thing to do, you know? To get ink on my skin of something you gave me, art you designed for me. And it’s…forever.”

Harry blinked slowly with a nod. “I completely understand, love. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“You didn’t. It’s just me. Like you said, it’s personal. And I would feel horrible if something happened between us, and-”

“Shh, baby…” Harry interrupted you this time. “It’s okay. I get it. Take all the time you need.”

You gave him a gentle smile before he pulled you into a deep kiss. Your eyelids heavy, and sleep threatening to take over, you tugged on the sheets. Getting the hint, Harry grinned, situating the covers over you before reaching for the lamp.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

You hummed in agreement as he held you against his warm body, and before you could even think any more about tattoos, you were sound asleep in his arms.

The rest of Sunday and most of Monday was spent making phone calls. You promised Harry a grand party, and you were determined to deliver. After telling Shae your plan, she was more than happy to come through by offering to tell her coworkers as well as some of your mutual friends. You called John to let him know as well, and he said he was already going to ask for the night off, and maybe even bring Rafi with him…if he was available, as he put it. You also called the gallery Monday morning, unbeknownst to Harry, to speak with Sherrod yourself. He told you how excited he was for Harry’s new exhibit, which put your mind at ease a bit.

“I really want this to be special for him,” you explained. “Is there anything I can do to help? To get the word out? More advertising? Do I need to hire a caterer or something?”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, darling,” assured Sherrod. “I’m already having my secretary making contacts as we speak. And I personally phoned my caterer on Friday.”

“Oh, fantastic,” you said. “The more people we can get to come, the better. There’s just one thing…”

“Don’t worry about that either, my pet. You have my word Miss Waters will not get an invite.”

“Ohh. For some reason I thought…” you chuckled nervously. “I don’t know how art galleries work, forgive me.”

Sherrod laughed heartily through the phone, catching you off guard. “Nothing to forgive, darling. Harry and I have already spoken about this as well.”

You breathed through your nose. Of course they had.

“Thank you, Sherrod. I appreciate everything.”

“It’s going to be a splendid night, you can be sure!”

Hanging up, you felt a heavy weight lift off your chest. It was quickly replaced with a glittery excitement. You couldn’t wait.

When you arrived for your mid-day shift at the cafe, you made a beeline for Jill who was making a cold brew for a customer. The look on her face when you told her the news about Harry’s exhibit was priceless.

“Of course I’ll be there!” she squealed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Bring some friends too, okay? I want to show him all the support we can give.”

That night, you sat in front of the TV writing in your journal. You soon found yourself mindlessly doodling in the corners of the page. Harry was at work, and you didn’t want to bother him. Yet you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He truly had been the only thing on your mind all day.

“Pppfff, more like for the last month,” you admitted out loud.

Tossing your notebook to the side, you leaned back on the couch and ran your fingers through your hair, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Jesus Christ, what am I doing?”

Getting up from the sofa, you slipped on your shoes, not bothering to change out of your lounge-at-home outfit - a dark green tunic and black leggings. The only effort you made was to brush your teeth and touch up your lip gloss before heading out the door.

The neon sign in the window seemed to glow brighter than you remembered, an enticing greeting to lure you in. Not that you hadn’t already planned to go inside.

Swinging the door open, you noticed an empty waiting area and counter. Smooth, instrumental jazz played through the speakers as you peeked your head through the doorway to scan the tattoo stations, but still saw no one. You were just about to walk through the shop to Harry’s office when you saw Kyle emerge.

“Oh, hey,” he grinned. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded, happy that he knew. Surely he didn’t remember you from the last time he’d seen you in the shop, but perhaps Harry had told him about you and he put two and two together. The idea made you blush a little.

“Harry’s in the back. I’ll go get him for you.”

Before you could retort, Kyle disappeared through the doorway from which he’d just appeared. And within seconds, your handsome, cheery boyfriend replaced him.

“Hi, babe!” he beamed. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, shyly. “Came to get my tattoo.”

His eyes widening, Harry stepped closer to you. “Really? Are you sure?”

Licking your lips, you nodded. “Positive.”

His dimples on full display, Harry pulled you into an embrace. You could feel his heart beating in his chest as he whispered in your ear. “I’m so happy.”

Then stepping back, Harry gestured toward his station. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll get everything ready and tell Kyle he can go home.”

“Oh!” you mouthed, surprised. Harry disappeared into the back room again before you could argue.

Situating yourself in Harry’s chair, you gazed at the art on display around his station as well as photos of various clients’ tats. While a few pieces looked to be fairly common, most of them were exquisite, no doubt one-of-a-kind works of art. You were staring at a large dragon piece on someone’s back when you heard a voice behind you.

“Bye, Y/N,” Kyle called. “Have a nice night.”

“Oh, thanks. Same to you,” you waved just as Harry walked up.

“You didn’t have to make him leave,” you said under your breath. “You’re not closed yet, are you?”

“I am now,” Harry wiggled his brows before walking to the front door and locking it, turning the OPEN sign to the CLOSED side.

With pursed lips, you tried to hold back a smirk as Harry returned, his own smirk tugging on his mouth.

“Slow night?” you inquired when he sat down on his stool.

“You would not believe. That’s why we were in my office. Kyle helps me with my website.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you watched Harry get his tray ready just like he had the day you’d brought Shae. That already felt like a lifetime ago.

“You always surprise me with your music choices,” you commented as you listened to the soft jazz.

Harry chuckled with a nod. “This is my focus, slash wind-down music. Since it was slow, I switched it from grunge whilst we worked on the website.”

“I like it,” you grinned.

Harry gazed up at you from under his lashes before his eyes roamed down your body. You felt a tingle as his gaze made its way back up to your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Was just recalling the last time you were sat in this chair.”

“Oh my God, Harry,” you blushed. “Please tell me you sanitized it!”

His eyes squinting as he giggled, Harry scooted closer to you. “You’re too much, babe.”

“Why, because I like cleanliness?”

“No, because that’s your first thought. It certainly wasn’t mine.”

You stared into his jade eyes that were now inches from your face, the irises appearing to have a dark line around them.

“That was…um, some kind of night,” you murmured softly.

“Indeed, it was.” Harry’s hand landed just above your knee then before he slid it slowly up your thigh.

“Hmm,” you nodded. “Are you trying to seduce me again?”

Harry puffed out a chuckle. “No. Don’t reckon I had to try then either.”

Dragging your tongue across your teeth, you focused on his mouth and the way his hand felt on your leg. “Fair enough. What do you remember most about that night?”

“How sweet your pussy tasted on my tongue,” he quickly replied, as if he’d had his answer ready before you’d even asked the question. “And how you tugged on my hair and your thighs trembled as you called my name.”

“Harry…”

“Oh, it was much louder than that.”

You blushed again, but this time you didn’t bother hiding it. Leaning towards you, Harry placed a soft kiss on your lips. Followed by a second, and a third. By the fourth, your fingers were in his hair, his tongue in your mouth. You reveled in the sensation, urging him with your own. When a gentle moan escaped your chest, Harry’s hand that had been on your thigh made its way between your legs. You began to grind against him in your seat, knowing your leggings and panties were already soaked through. His other hand traveled underneath your t-shirt, and when his fingers met your bare skin, you gasped.

“Are you…,” you gulped, “planning to eat me out again on this chair?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Oh.”

“I have other things in mind,” he added, echoing the exact words he’d said to you that night before taking you home.

“Oh…”

Harry sat back on his stool and raised a brow. “I thought you wanted a tattoo, love.”

“Harry Styles! Are you teasing me?” you exclaimed.

Giggling with glee, you noticed his eyes dancing. “Maybe.”

“Rude!” you frowned, tugging your shirt down. Your pussy still throbbing from his hand, you pouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s my fault. Seeing you in this chair…it turned me on, and I got carried away. I do want to play. But I think we should get started on this tattoo, don’t you? It’s gonna take a bit.”

You nodded with a sigh. “Okay.”

Harry gave you a peck on the nose and one on the lips. “Now, did you decide where you want it? The ink, I mean,” he smirked.

“So, I had considered getting it on my side, like down my hip. There’s plenty of room to make it big. But then I changed my mind.”

“Too much?” Harry asked.

“Nope. Not enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s gonna see it there. Except you. And while the idea is sexy, I’d rather have the art my boyfriend designed to be in a spot everyone could see.”

“Baby…” Harry breathed, his hand over his heart.

“I know, I’ve been hesitant about this,” you explained. “About us. But I have no clue why. We’ve spent all this time together. You’ve shown me time again that you’re interested in more than just…a fling. Every time I’m with you, I feel butterflies and moonbeams and…all the cheesy things.” You let out a nervous sigh as you looked down at your hands, then back up to his gorgeous face. “The truth is…I’m crazy about you, Harry.”

“Sweetheart,” he cried, pulling you into another kiss. Then leaning his forehead against yours he murmured, “You make me so happy.”

“Good,” you grinned, your right hand on his cheek as you held out your left. “That’s why I think we should put it right here, below my elbow, down the inside of my arm.”

“I think that would be lovely,” he agreed, misty-eyed. Then he kissed the inside of your wrist before rising from his stool. “Let me go get the stencil, and I’ll be right back.”

When he stepped away, you suddenly felt butterflies in your tummy, and not just from the notion of getting a tattoo. You’d almost told him more than you’d planned. The truth was, you weren’t just crazy about him. You were falling for him. Hard. Perhaps you had been falling bit by bit every day. And you were finally willing to admit it to yourself. But you weren’t quite sure yet if you were ready to say it to him. It still felt too soon. But you loved the look on his face when you’d revealed what you had. His delight gave you hope that perhaps he felt the same.

Harry returned with a big smile on his face. Placing the stencil next to him, he pulled on his gloves. Then reaching for the rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, he eyed you.

“Still wanna do this?” he asked.

“Definitely,” you beamed.

Taking your arm, he gently rubbed the soaked cotton pad down your arm, from the elbow to your wrist. Then he took a new disposable razor and gently shaved the area, just like you’d seen him do on Shae, back when you still hated him. The idea brought a sour taste to your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah, sorry. Was just…thinking.”

“About?” Harry raised a brow.

“How far we’ve come in just a short time.”

Harry’s face softened. “I think about that a lot.”

“You do?”

“I thank my lucky stars every fucking day that you forgave me. That you were able to see the real me and change your mind. I only wish…”

“What?” you asked.

His gaze seemed to burn into you as he looked deep into your eyes. “I wish we had met some other way. Like some random day at the cafe, or maybe here when you’d come with Shae. Or maybe even at Zelda’s on a night I was alone. Some other way that you could have met the real me instead of that prick I pretended to be.”

You sat in silence as you absorbed Harry’s words and watched him place the thermal paper on your arm with the stencil. When he peeled it off was when you spoke.

“What would you have said?”

“When?”

“If we had met in a different situation. What would you have said to me?”

“In which scenario?” he smirked.

“Let’s go with the first one. Obviously I wouldn’t be working at the cafe. But let’s say I came in one day that you were sitting there working on your iPad.”

Harry chuckled loudly, catching you off guard. “Well, I can’t really say for sure, can I? There are other factors involved.”

“Alright,” you agreed. “But you said you’ve thought about it. What happens in your…wish?”

You swore you caught a tiny bit of color in his cheeks as Harry pulled his tray closer to him. “We have to get serious now, babe. I’m about to stick a needle in your arm.”

You puffed out a breath in humor, then sat up straight in your chair. “Fine. Mark me.”

Harry’s nostrils flared as he chuckled at your joke. Then he made a few adjustments to his tattoo gun before getting to work. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would. You watched as Harry traced the stencil, starting with the dripping moon at the top. After every stroke, he would wipe your skin. He seemed so focused, so gentle. You stared at his face for a little while, and every time he’d bite his lower lip, it sent your heart all aflutter. When he finished the outline, he looked up at you.

“Still doing okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded.

He gave you a smile before returning his focus to your arm. You were both quiet for a moment until he spoke again.

“I probably would have stared at you for a bit.”

“Huh?”

“At the cafe. If you had been sat near me at a table by yourself. I would have kept sneaking glances at you, but making sure you didn’t notice.”

“Well then, how am I supposed-”

“At first,” he interrupted. “Then I would have wanted you to notice. When we finally made eye contact, I’d have smiled at you.”

Lifting his head, Harry gave you just the smile he was referring to. And your insides ignited.

“I would say that’s very cheesy and cliche, but it’s not. I like it.”

“So what would you have done if I’d come over to your table and asked you your name?”

“I would have told you, and hoped to God you’d ask me for my number too.”

“Alright then,” Harry snickered. “That’s one scenario. But it didn’t happen.”

“It’s fine, Harry,” you said. “Something else happened instead. And we’re here anyway.”

“Yes, we are.”

You watched Harry continue on the tattoo, the moon starting to look realistic with the shading. As always you were in awe of him and his talent. Just like when you would watch him work at the cafe, you found yourself completely mesmerized. It was utterly sexy to you, from the way he focused on his project at hand, to the curls that framed his face and neck, and even down to the way his own tattooed arms flexed as he worked. As you studied him you let out a deep breath, feeling the wetness pooling in your panties again.

“Still okay?” Harry suddenly asked with a tiny smirk, as if he’d noticed.

“I’m wonderful,” you answered dreamily.

“You need to move your elbow a little?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” you nodded as Harry sat back to let you. Your arm had been in one position for a while, and you were starting to feel the effects.

“Okay, I’m good,” you commented as you reached your arm out again. “Tell me about your next project. What are you working on?”

“Just a second,” Harry muttered. As he scooted closer again, you wondered what he was doing until he beckoned you with his gloved hand. “Kiss me.”

You grinned widely before you happily obliged, giving him a few more kisses than he’d asked for just for good measure.

“Mmm, thanks babe. It’s hard to be around you for this long without touching your lips.”

“You’re welcome. And you’re the sweetest.”

With a wink, Harry returned to his task, this time moving onto the shading of the heart. “I actually haven’t started anything new yet,” he replied to your previous inquiry. “With the moon series now at the gallery, I’ve kind of been trying to finish up some older pieces.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you had anything that was incomplete.”

“Yeah. You saw the citiscape one, right?”

“Yes, that was gorgeous! That wasn’t finished?”

“Not yet. I keep feeling like there’s something missing, but…I dunno. I’m also not sure if I want it to be a series or a stand alone piece.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I know it’ll be amazing. As always,” you offered emphatically.

“Thanks, babe. This is why…” he left his thought unfinished as his tattoo gun rounded the edges of the heart.

“Why what?”

Harry lifted his head, giving you an easy grin. “Why you’re a wonderful lady.”

You watched Harry finish the heart on the tat while you thought your own heart could burst. You thought he was going to say it for a second, but you understood why he hadn’t. It seemed like such a mundane moment to express those three words.

Changing the subject, Harry chatted with you lightly about the upcoming exhibit, about the cafe, about food. You told him about your pal John, and how he was planning to come as well as Jill and Shae.

“Thanks again for doing this for me, babe,” he grinned. “I truly appreciate you.”

“Of course, Harry. I honestly think I’d do just about anything for you.”

Raising his eyebrows, Harry gave you a sexy look before quickly looking back down at your arm. “I think we’re done, babe.”

“Oh. Oh!” You tore your eyes from his to gaze down at your new tattoo. It was extraordinary to say the least.

“It’s…so beautiful, Harry,” you choked. “I love it!”

“It’s yours,” he commented. “And only yours.”

Your eyes began to well up with tears, making your vision too blurry to even see it. But you knew he was right. You had a one-of-a-kind Harry Styles work of art on your arm. And you couldn’t be more proud.

“C’mere, you can look in the mirror,” Harry beckoned, gesturing to the mirror behind him on the wall.

Standing in front of it, you wiped your eyes with your fingers until Harry handed you a tissue.

“Don’t cry, love,” he cooed. “You’ll make me think you made a mistake.”

“Of course not, silly man.” You stretched your arm down to look at the full length of the ink on your skin. “No mistakes here.”

“I’m glad,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chest on your shoulder as you took in the image of you both in the mirror. Grabbing his phone, Harry then took a couple of quick photos of your arm. “Let’s go ahead and put a covering on that so it won’t get infected.”

“Oh, how long do I have to do that? I wanna be able to show it off this weekend.”

Harry smirked at your pout. “Just a few days. You should be okay by then.”

Once again, you sat in his chair while he applied the dressing and bandage. Then he explained to you the aftercare, which made you giddy. You knew it was his job, but you enjoyed seeing him being professional.

“I’ll give you some information to take home with you as well,” he added as he removed his gloves, “but right now, I really need to touch you.”

You opened your mouth, but before you could make a syllable, Harry slid his hands under your jaw and pulled you into a warm kiss. He soon deepened it, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands traveled around your neck to your hair. When he finally released you enough to take a breath, you gasped.

“Wow.”

“Uh huh,” he voiced so low that you barely heard it. Then he licked his lips before sliding his hand up your thigh like before. “Exactly.”

You stared at Harry, his eyes darkening as he fingers began to tease you between your legs.

“So, what…mmm,” you swallowed at the sensation, “what other things did you have in mind?”

“Oh, you really wanna know?” he quirked a brow.

“Mmhmm. Yes, please.”

“Hmm, you ask so politely. But I might wanna keep teasing you like this. Make your legs tremble until you can’t stand it anymore. Until you’re begging for me to make you come.”

“Mmm,” you moaned again as he applied more pressure with his thumb, his hand cupping you, still over your clothes. “I don’t think I would be opposed to that.”

“No? You like being teased?”

“I like the way you tease,” you replied, breathy.

A low chuckle rose from his throat, and you felt the vibration as his face was just inches from yours. Then he surprised you by rising from his chair, his hand leaving your throbbing core to tug on the bottom of your t-shirt.

“Off, sweetheart,” he demanded.

You lifted your arms for him to remove your top, careful of your freshly tattooed area. You nearly came unglued at the sight of him biting his bottom lip.

“Sorry I don’t have on fancy undies,” you said, looking down at your cotton bralette.

“Are you kidding?” he snorted before he helped you remove that garment as well, his hands quickly palming your bare breasts.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the pleasure of his calloused thumbs skimming across your perky buds. He was so light and gentle with his touch, that you almost pouted, but you knew this was his intention. To drive you crazy.

He kissed you again, his hands still on you until he backed away suddenly. You opened your eyes to see him removing his own shirt, his tattooed torso on display. Your mouth watered instantly, an automatic reaction now.

You and Harry had good sex. There was no denying it. Not that you liked to compare, but Harry was the best in bed. He already knew what you liked, what buttons to press and which ones not to (not that there were many). But the best thing about the sexual part of your relationship was that it was never boring. Even when it was just quick fucking, it was amazing. Even when it was sweet, sleepy sex, you were left satisfied.

So Harry implying - albeit obviously - that he wanted to fuck you on that tattoo chair was no surprise. But the thrill was still as strong as ever. Everything he did excited you. Jesus, just looking at him sent a bolt of electricity down to your cunt, making you squeeze your muscles together.

Letting out a breath, you reached for his belt, pulling it from the loop and releasing it. He gave you another smirk as you tugged on his jeans with your non-tattooed arm, frustrated when the button wouldn’t come loose.

“Let me help, baby,” he growled, keeping your hand in position as he covered it with his own hand and helped you pull. The button popped open, the zipper separating along with it as your tug was determined. Then Harry assisted you further, his hand guiding yours down the front of his pants.

“As if you had to help me with that,” you scoffed with a grin.

“Maybe I wanted some help,” Harry eyed you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary either, big boy.”

His sexy low chuckle vibrated through your hand while you found you were a hundred percent correct. Standing from the chair, you pulled him from the confines of his jeans, the pink, bulbous head of his hard cock greeting you.

“Mmm,” you sounded. “Maybe I could help a little.”

You released his erection for just a moment to run your hands down his chest, your fingernails raking over his pecs and the light dusting of chest hair around his nipples. But it didn’t take long for Harry to reach for your tits again, squeezing them in his hands.

“Wait…I thought I was supposed to be teasing you,” he groaned.

“So you don’t want your cock in my mouth?” you teased back.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Fuck, babe, I don’t know anymore. You’re so hot. I’m so turned on.”

“I can see that,” you grinned, wrapping your palm around his cock again. Before he could protest, you fell to your knees.

“Babe…” you heard as you barely licked the tip.

“Just let me, Harry. Please? I’m begging,” you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, batting your lashes.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Harry gave you permission with a nod and heavy eyelids. You took your time, wetting the head first, then slowly dragging your tongue underneath his length, from the base to the tip. Then licking your lips, you wrapped them around his hard cock, giving a generous amount of suction.

You heard his heavy breathing get louder and faster as you steadied yourself with your other hand on his hip. His own hands were everywhere at first, starting in your hair, then trying to paw at your breasts, then finally settling back on your head, gently urging and guiding you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at this.”

You’d never considered yourself a pro at giving head. You couldn’t even take all of him, for fear of choking. But he didn’t seem to mind. Your mouth and tongue along with your hand seemed to do the trick. After a few more swirls of your tongue, you allowed your other hand to reach underneath, grabbing his balls. He moaned loudly, another expletive rising from his chest.

“Baby. Baby, baby, stop. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Popping off of him, you smiled up at him, saliva dripping from your chin. You enjoyed pleasuring him, but you were excited to move on to phase two. With another low groan, Harry ran his thumb across your chin, guiding you back up to your feet.

“Y/N. I need to be inside you. Now.”

“Aw, you mean I don’t have to beg?”

Harry didn’t bother replying with words. Instead, he pulled down your leggings with fervor, your panties clinging to them so they slipped down together, pooling around your ankles just like Harry’s jeans.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” he patted your hip while wiggling his brows.

More electricity surging through you, you happily did as you were told, bending over the tattoo chair. You felt Harry run his hands down your ass before grabbing your hip and situating himself at your entrance. He slid in slowly at first, like he always did in order to get adjusted. But as soon as he let out a gasp that echoed your own, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he started to move faster.

Harder. His fingers dug into your flesh as he pounded into you. You bit your lip at first, then thought it silly since you were alone. As you began to moan, so did Harry. The sounds intertwined with the sexy, slow jazz were intoxicating. And when Harry bent over to grab your hair and talk in your ear, you thought you might come.

“Pussy’s so good, baby. Been thinking about it all day. Always so wet for me.”

“Mmmm,” was all you could manage.

“You like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes!”

“You like my hard cock pounding into you, my balls slamming against your wet pussy?”

“God, yes!”

“Yeah. It’s mine, innit? Your gorgeous cunt is all mine.”

“Mmhm.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s all yours, Harry. I’m all yours.”

Moaning in your ear, Harry slowed down. You wondered for a moment what was happening as you knew he hadn’t come yet. Then you felt a chill on your back as he stood up, his hands at your hips.

“Let’s get these off the rest of the way,” he said with heavy breaths, indicating your pants.

Blinking, you wiped your eyes and toed off your shoes, stepping out of the leggings as you watched Harry do the same with his jeans.

“Sorry, babe, for the interlude,” his voice cracked. “I wanna try something else.”

“Okay.”

You watched as he readjusted the chair to lay flat. Then he laid down on it.

“C’mere, babe,” he beckoned. “Climb on top of me.”

You shifted your eyes nervously. “Are you sure we won’t break it?”

“Only one way to find out,” he smirked.

Sucking in your lips, you climbed on with Harry’s assistance. You giggled at the awkwardness of it all as you straddled him.

“Just a second, honey,” he said when you were about to aim his cock. “Let me look at you.”

You glared at him, once again wondering what was going through his head. He acted as if he’d never looked at you before. But as you smiled down at him, his own lips grew into his dimpled grin, making you warm all over. He brushed your hair from your face, his thumb grazing across your cheek.

“You’re like an angel,” he murmured. “You take my breath away.”

“Harry…” you exhaled.

“I’m all yours too, honey.”

You beamed at him, knowing it was a reply to your previous admission. Then lifting yourself onto your knees, you looked into his eyes as you sank down onto his cock. You hissed as he closed his eyes, both of you already sensitive.

You rode him with determination, needing to chase the release. After bouncing on him a few times, Harry took your left hand and held it to his chest, making sure you didn’t put too much pressure on that arm. You giggled awkwardly as you tried to keep your balance, but your boyfriend was good at helping.

As you started to reach your high, the burn imminent both in your thighs and your core, you began to cry out.

“Harry….it’s so good, baby…oh, God…Harryyyyy.”

Bucking his hips against you, his hands both now on your own hips, he stared you in the eyes.

“I know, honey. Tell me.”

“Mmmmm…I’m all yours, Harry,” you bit your lip, throwing your head back.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Blinking, you gazed down at him, his gorgeous face flushed. He groaned in pleasure before wrapping his arms around you.

“Tell me, baby. I wanna hear you say it.”

“What?”

“Tell me you love me.”

Your eyes widening, you stared at him in…no, not disbelief. Because you absolutely believed it.

“I know you feel it, baby. Just like I do. Tell me. Please.”

You’d slowed down your hips, Harry having paused his thrusts. But as you began to resume, moving faster, his gorgeous mouth hanging open, you nodded.

“I love you, Harry.”

His lips twitched before he licked them, then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

A tiny giggle escaped your throat as realization kicked in. You were in love. And all his.

You rode Harry to the finish, reaching orgasm just before he cried out those three words again. He kissed you deeply, his tongue letting you know how pleased he was. His head falling back, his eyes closed in complete bliss, the biggest, dopiest grin on his face.

“Say it again, babe.”

You kissed his salty chest and neck, then gnawed on his stubbly chin.

“I love you,” you sang softly before kissing his lips.

“And I love you,” he echoed while your face hovered over his, your hair surrounding you both like a secret garden. “So much.”

Chatter filled the room and your ears as you suddenly heard the clink of a fork against glass.

"Ladies and gentlemen! A toast! To our man of the evening!" announced Sherrod. Harry turned to him with a bashful grin. "It has been my utmost pleasure to host this soiree for such an incredible artist. He is a viable part of this community, and I know you all join me in congratulating him at completing another remarkable series. To Harry Styles!"

As everyone clapped and cheered, raising their glasses, you heard Stan shout, "Hear, hear!"

Smiling at your boss, whom you had been thrilled to see arrive with his wife, you watched him make a taste of his own.

"Harry, my son, I've watched you sit at that same table in my cafe for over a year, doodling on your notepads and…thingamajig…" he gestured, making the guests chuckle. "To be honest, I didn't understand why my coffee shop, or why that table…or why only flat white lattes…" more laughs erupted as he patted Harry on the shoulder. "But I knew you had talent. And ambition. I'm proud of you, son. And I'm proud to say I knew you when."

"Hear, hear!" Sherrod and others cheered, raising their glasses again.

"Thank you, Stan. Thank you Sherrod," Harry choked. "This whole night means more to me than you'll ever know. All of you. I'm so humbled that each of you came tonight. This truly was special. I'll never forget it."

Harry's eyes met yours during his final words. Then as the chatter resumed, he stepped forward and pulled you into a long kiss.

"Alright you two," said Jill behind you. "Don't go find a room just yet. I need to take pictures."

You giggled as your friend held her phone up and you posed for several photos with Harry, including one where you were kissing him on the cheek. Satisfied with her shots, Jill squealed with joy and announced she had to take some more with her other friends next to Harry’s art.

A waiter came by then with more champagne, and you gladly took another glass, handing him your empty one.

“I’m so happy to see you having a good time,” beamed Harry, his arm still around you.

“I may have had a few too many of these,” you snickered, covering your mouth with your hand.

“No matter. We have that limo, thanks to you.”

“You can actually thank Shae. It was her idea.”

“Where is Shae, by the way?” Harry turned his head to search for your roommate. He spotted her next to the shrimp, talking to Kyle. His chest shook with laughter as he turned back to you.

“What?” you asked. “Kyle’s a nice guy, right?”

“Yeah. Too nice. She’s probably giving him an earful, and I’ll have to hear about it later.”

You playfully slapped his arm in your friend’s defense, though you knew he was right.

“Good idea, by the way, showing off your tattoo right away. I already have some clients lined up.”

“That’s awesome!” you cheered. You figured one of them was the nice lady you were talking to last time, since you saw her again soon after you’d arrived.

“Harry, my good man, congratulations!” another voice sounded. You both swiveled to see Carlo, his arm already stretched to give Harry a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming, Carlo.”

“Anything for you, my friend! Y/N, I don’t believe you’ve met my beautiful wife, Jossalyn.” Carlo gestured to the stunning tattooed brunette to his right.

You both gave each other salutations before Harry pulled her into a hug as well. Then they announced their exit and said their goodbyes.

“You have a lot of friends and admirers, Harry,” you commented.

He nodded. “Seems that way. I need to remember to count my blessings.”

You lifted your hand to his handsome face, and he covered it with his own, gently shutting his eyes.

“Y/N! We have to be going, guys!” John shouted, breaking your reverie.

“John, thank you so much for coming!” you told him as you squeezed him. “And for bringing Rafi.”

“Told you he’s a dish,” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded as you watched his partner shake hands with Harry, then you did the same. As soon as they left, Harry leaned into you.

“Rafael is interested in my art.”

“Your art, or something else?” you quirked a brow. “I saw how he looked at you earlier.”

Harry cackled. “I promise it was strictly a professional conversation. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll remind him I’m taken.”

As he slid his arm back around your waist, you shook your head as you smiled up at him. “I was teasing you. I wouldn’t blame anyone in this room for wanting a piece of you…professionally or otherwise. But I appreciate the sentiment. Also, I trust you.”

“Yeah? I’m glad, baby.”

Harry brought his hand up to slide under your jaw, and he was just about to kiss you when the other man of the hour interrupted.

“Harry, lad, I have an early flight in the morning, so I must bid farewell,” said Donovan McNulty. This evening he wore a black suit with a red bowtie. You smiled at him, holding out your hand.

“Mr. Nulty, thank you so much for coming. You’ve made Harry so happy.”

Donovan leaned in and kissed your cheek, then the other. “My dear, I reckon it’s the other way around. Besides, it looks like he’s found his happiness right here, with his muse.”

He gave you a wink as he squeezed your tattooed arm before shaking Harry’s hand and waving goodbye.

The party continued for another hour or so. You and Harry both gave a lot more thank yous and farewells. Then when no other guests remained (Harry insisted on seeing everyone out to show his appreciation), Sherrod finally shooed you out to the limo.

“Thanks for helping with everything, sweetheart,” cooed Harry as he necked you in the back of the car.

“I didn’t do much,” you conveyed. “Sherrod set up most of it.”

“No, you did more than you know. I love and appreciate you.”

“Same here, handsome,” you grinned before caressing his soft lips. “By the way, I have something to show you when we get to your place.”

“Yeah? Is it under your dress?”

You giggled as his hand wandered under the flimsy fabric of the new dress you’d purchased just for this occasion.

“No,” you playfully tugged at his wrist. “It’s something I left there while we were getting ready. It’s in your nightstand.”

“Handcuffs?”

“No! Harry Styles, I’m trying to be romantic and open, and you’re being naughty.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, babe. I can’t help it. It’s just where my mind went.”

“It’s okay,” you tutted.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

Harry held your hand as he walked you to his apartment. The glow of the moon shone through the balcony doors, punctuating the end of the moon-themed evening like a full stop. Although you weren’t ready for it to end just yet.

You laid your clutch bag on the counter next to his keys and wallet before he pulled you in for yet another kiss. Throwing your arms around his neck, you let his tongue tangle with yours, tasting the champagne you’d both consumed. Then he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you into the bedroom.

“Are you gonna show me now?” he asked between kisses after he laid you down.

You simply nodded, then reached for the bedside table, opening the top drawer. You retrieved a small notebook, the one you’d been writing in. Opening it, you flipped to the page you wanted to show him. When you handed it to him, he looked at you inquisitively.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Remember when you asked me if I had a hobby, something that I was passionate about? And I mentioned I used to write?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You inspired me.”

With an easy grin, Harry sat back on the pillows, crossing his ankles. You sat next to him, your legs tucked underneath you as you bit your bottom lip nervously.

Brilliant, blazing, glistening, glittering

The celestial satellite shines by the light reflected from the sun

Its beautiful mystery soothingly captivates us

All aglow, seemingly from within

Feminine energy that affects the rise and fall of the tides

A big balloon, luminous and serene

These are words used to describe the moon

But they are also words to describe my heart

For my heart is now a big balloon

All aglow and alight from within

From the light of your heart, the sun

Brilliant, blazing, beautiful

Wondrous and astral, my heart is now home

Lowering the notebook after reading your poem, Harry looked at you.

“It’s kinda short,” you offered with a hesitant chuckle. “But it took me forever.”

“Baby,” he said, scooting closer to you and reaching for you. “This is beautiful.”

“Really?” you crinkled your nose, still not completely confident.

“Yes, baby, really. I love it. I love you.”

Your expression softened, easing into a smile. Harry pulled you to his chest, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Thank you for writing it, but even more, for sharing it with me.”

“I figured I should, since you share so much with me.”

“That’s what I mean, love. Not only did you share your heart with me, but you put it into words on paper. It’s stunning. I’m…”

His hands still in your hair, he paused his words.

“What?” you asked as you saw a tiny tear escape from the corner of his eye and down his cheek. “Harry…”

“Can’t help it, baby,” he choked as you wiped the tear. “I’ve fallen so hard for you.”

“Me too,” you whispered.

“Tell me again, Y/N.”

“I love you…” you said, his lips capturing yours once again before you could say his name.

You didn’t mind that he asked you to say those words. In fact, you liked it. You would tattoo it on your heart if you could.

THE END

And there we have it :). Please like, comment and consider following me if you enjoyed it! Feedback is love x.

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bottlesofrouge · 1 month

Text

on one condition.

harry styles x original character

part five.

word count: 12.6K

warnings: talks of a past physically abusive relationship, smut (finaalllyyy!!!), nsfr!

27 JULY 2018

harry wakes up to lynn sitting on the arm of the couch. her fingers dance along his arm as his name falls from her lips in quiet whispers. it’s still dark outside, and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, struggling to remember just exactly where he is.

silas and lynn had gone into the bedroom shortly after dinner. he wasn’t really sure why he was expecting silas to take the couch, but when the click of the lock echoed through the quiet condo, harry knew that he was stuck with the short end of the stick.

there were no goodnights said and no sleepy smiles from lynn. harry sat in the dark for what felt like hours, listening to the muffled laughter coming from behind the bedroom door while he tried to swallow down the ugly, burning jealousy that came bubbling up in his throat.

“harry,” she whispers again. her touch moves from his arms to his hair. “are you awake?”

“yeah,” he hums. “what’s going on? are you okay?”

“i can’t fall asleep,” she says. “not when i don’t know if you’re alright.”

“why wouldn’t i be alright?” he can barely make out anything in the dark. the only source of light was the dim glow of the moon coming in through an uncovered window. it doesn’t do much, but it illuminates her face enough for him to see the way it’s etched with worry.

“the same reason i can’t sleep unless all of the doors are locked,” she doesn’t elaborate any further, and harry’s not really sure what she means by that. “i’m sorry for waking you. couldn’t tell if you were breathing.”

“do you wanna lay out here with me?” she only blinks at him. “you don’t have to, but i think you’d be able to feel if i was breathing or not.”

“are you sure?”

“c’mere,” he presses himself further into the couch, and lifts the blanket for her to slide under. harry’s shocked a little when she actually does.

it’s uncomfortable at first. he lays there like a board, arms straight down at his sides until lynn reaches behind for his hand. he thinks she’s giving him the key to the front door, but instead she presses his palm to her stomach just like he had done the night before.

it really was a complete accident. harry was so embarrassed to open his eyes and find himself wrapped around her the way he was. lynn was still sleeping when he woke up. she never mentioned it, and he had hoped that maybe she never noticed. he could not have been more wrong.

she doesn’t say anything when she does it, so instead of overthinking the situation and letting it keep him up until the sun rises, he leans into it. harry molds his body to lynn’s, letting his fingers stretch across her tummy just like she wanted them to. their legs are crossed at the ankles, and harry can’t help it when he lets his lips press right where her neck meets her shoulder. he half expects her to push him away, but she only sighs, falling asleep mere seconds later.

✮✮✮

“good morning, cuddle bugs,” harry doesn’t wake up again until silas is practically whisper singing right into his ear. the man’s standing over the two of them, a mug of coffee in each hand and a wide grin on his face.

when harry blinks enough to get the sleep out of his eyes, he sees that lynn’s got her cheek squished against his chest and her arm thrown around his torso. both of her legs are in between his and she had stolen their previously shared blanket and selfishly wrapped herself up in it. “were my cuddles not good enough for you, lynn?”

“oh my god, shut up, silas,” lynn groans, letting herself lean into harry even more. “and close the curtains while you’re up. m’so tired.”

silas does as he’s told before coming back over to harry to hand him one of the mugs he was holding. he sits down in the recliner next to them without saying a word, and turns on some local news station for the two to watch.

the volume’s on low, and silas is too focused on whatever stories that are running that he doesn’t try to engage in any conversation. he is so incredibly thankful for it, too. he wasn’t exactly sure what the other had to say about walking out of the bedroom to find his best friend wrapped around him. he wasn’t sure what lynn has told silas about them, but she surely had to have mentioned the fact that he has been treating her so terribly for the last two months.

harry’s free hand absentmindedly travels to lynn’s hair, fingers gently scratching her scalp as quiet, appreciative hums leave her mouth. he can’t really tell if she’s just in and out of sleep or if she’s fully awake, but he doesn’t care as long as he got lynn like this. he’d be stupid not to wrap himself up in everything that she was willing to give him. after all, it’d all go away as soon as they got back to new york.

part of him couldn’t wait to get home, even though he knew that going home meant he would have to face his parents. he also knew that it meant he would be getting back to his new routine. ever since he stopped sharing his days with an entire bottle of hard liquor, waking up has never felt so good.

he was productive. incredibly productive, actually. during the first week, he got around to turning his office into a small art studio. harry had purchased easels and canvases and nearly an entire display of oil paints. of course he put the transactions on john’s credit card. he thought of it as reparations for his shitty childhood, but if his dad asked, he would say it was a parting gift for his frat.

the other part of him wanted to be anywhere but home because home meant no more waking up to lynn and no more soft kisses and warm touches. home meant morning coffee alone and silence so loud that if he closed his eyes hard enough, he would swear he could hear it screaming.

you’re alone. you’re alone. you’re alone. you’re alone.

and honestly, the first few days wouldn’t be too bad. harry thinks he’d use the time to clear his head. the forced proximity had him thinking (and feeling) so many confusing things when it came to lynn. he knew that once they were apart for a little while, they’d all go away. maybe the two would even go back to hating each other.

they’d see each other once a week, maybe twice if they were feeling crazy, and harry would only be brutally reminded of just how alone he actually was. the words would echo in his head like they always did. just like the ticking of a clock.

you’re alone. you’re alone. you’re alone. you’re alone.

maybe it’s his fault for giving himself away so easily. there are so many people who know absolutely nothing about him except for what gets him going in bed, and normally, that fact didn’t bother him one bit. he likes feeling good and making other people feel good, and he loves the fact that he can participate in both of those activities with no strings attached.

however, on the rare days like today, the mere thought of it makes harry want to scratch the skin off his body and start fresh. he wants to be someone new. someone who is loved, and someone that people actually want to know.

and really, that’s where this whole thing stems from. the constant craving for something that is so unattainable for him. he just wants to be known.

harry itches for the day that someone knows just how much he loves ballet and theater. they’ll know he spent the first three years of high school dedicating his life to the drama club, spending afternoon after afternoon designing and painting sets. those long afternoons would soon turn into rehearsing lines in the passenger seat of oliver’s car, nothing but a flashlight on one of their phones illuminating the words on their scripts.

they’ll know he stopped because of how his dad felt about it. they’ll learn all about his senior year football stint, and maybe he’d also be inclined to tell them that he did it just to please him, but even then, john never went to a single game.

“harry,” silas’s leaning forward to nudge harry with his hand. “did you hear me?”

“no,” he admits. “what did you say?”

“i asked if you were hungry. we’re supposed to meet everyone for breakfast in ten.”

“i’m okay,” harry hums. his eyes fall to lynn who’s now created a small wet spot on his shirt with her drool. “you go. she’s been having a hard time sleeping.”

“she has for years,” silas responds. harry isn’t sure if he’s just stating a fact or if he’s trying to make sure he’s aware that he knows lynn in ways that harry never will. “i’ve never seen her out like this though. it’s weird.”

when silas decides to take harry up on his offer, he stands up, stretches, and then puts his shoes on before walking out of the door. it slams a little bit behind him, and lynn jolts at the sound. her head flies up, and she’s looking at harry with wide eyes and parted lips.

“just silas, honey,” his knuckles drag across the highest point of her cheek. “you can go back to sleep for a bit.”

✮✮✮

silas: it’s amelia day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

silas: you better be awake when i get back

silas: first round is on you btw consider it your apology for having to look at you and harry all morning #YUCK

lynn shuts her phone off and peers up at harry to make sure he wasn’t reading over her shoulder. (that would be so humiliating.) she finds him fast asleep underneath her. his head is tilted back, resting on a pillow that was propped up on the arm of the couch. his lips are parted, and she thinks that if she’s quiet enough she could hear tiny snores fall from them. god, he is so cute.

“harry,” she gently shakes him, and when he opens his eyes and blinks a few long blinks like he’s trying to gather his surroundings, she can’t help but laugh. “good morning, sunshine.”

“what time is it?” he rasps out around a yawn.

“nearly noon.” lynn sits up so harry can stretch and sit up properly. “it’s amelia day, so we have to leave soon. get ready, and i’ll make you something to eat. my treat for sharing this uncomfortable thing with me all night.”

lynn only makes them a plate of leftovers that consists of stuff she found in various take out boxes in the refrigerator. it wasn’t anything crazy; yet, it takes nearly fifteen minutes before she has it all set out on the breakfast bar. she shouldn't be blamed though. it’s not her fault that she couldn’t stop thinking about last night.

it wasn’t until silas was knocked out next to her that she realized harry was out in the living room all alone. she didn’t mean to exclude him. it kind of just happened, and she felt so guilty for it. she couldn’t stop wondering just how upset harry would be with her in the morning, and soon after, all of the overthinking turned into wondering if harry was okay.

honestly, she knew deep down there was no reason for him not to be, but that didn’t stop her from going out and checking. that’s all she meant to do, really. she planned on making sure he was alive and well and then she would climb back into bed with silas, but when he made room for her on the couch, lynn couldn’t say no.

she missed sleeping next to him.

it was stupid. they had only been on good terms for a few days, but lynn couldn’t imagine ever falling asleep without him pressed against her again. she thought that maybe it was just the simple fact that she was next to someone that had her sleeping so well, but no. it was harry.

silas has probably spent hundreds of hours helping her fall asleep. nearly every time he’s in town, he sits next to her in bed and runs his fingers through her hair until she’s napping. lynn really did appreciate it so much. she knew she would never get those precious naps in without him, but that was just it. they were always a quick little nap, never lasting more than an hour.

with harry, it was so different. all he had to do was be in the same room as her and she’d be out for hours. it was silly, and all in her mind. of course she knew that, it’s just… she doesn’t really want it to end.

harry doesn’t talk until the two of them are sharing an uber to the town square. he’s exhausted. lynn knows that, and she feels so shitty for having him take the couch. he was doing her a favor being there. the least she could do was give him the bed.

“it’s amelia’s birthday?” his voice is quiet when he asks, like the uber driver hearing would give away the faux relationship.

“no,” she laughs a little, not because of him, but because of what amelia day actually is. “silas pays amelia to watch jane while the adults go out for a few drinks.”

“is it the same day every year?”

lynn shakes her head, “just whenever silas feels like it. it’s usually just the two of us, and he convinces her when he thinks i’ve burnt myself out watching them.”

harry only hums and looks out the window.

lynn sits at the bar, nursing her third dirty martini as she watches silas and harry play a game of darts. silas was honestly great at the game. never once has he let lynn win. however, when harry threw his first dart, she realized that today might be the day her dreams of silas losing come true.

she’s been dreaming of the day ever since she had played against silas for the first time at a bar in her college town. he was visiting her for spring break. nearly the entire school had gone further south to a beach, so they pretty much had the bar to themselves. they played forty seven games that week, and lynn had only been close to winning once.

so, she offers to buy harry a shot if he wins, and when he says he’d rather have a kiss, she says he can have that, too.

she watches as harry goes to throw his dart. he closes one of his eyes and the tip of his tongue sticks out a little at the corner of his mouth every time he brings his hand up to aim. normally, she would’ve poked a little fun because he looked crazy, but she was a couple drinks in and she couldn’t help but find everything harry did to be at least a little bit attractive.

harry throws the winning dart, and lynn already has a shot of don julio waiting for him. she holds the little glass in between her fingers and the lime wedge in between her lips as she moves over to the two guys. a little pool of anxiety fills her stomach when she thinks about what exactly she’s doing. the lime placement seemed like a good idea after she had finished her third drink, but when she sees silas’s face, she thinks that maybe she was wrong.

the worry is only there for a second because harry tips the shot back, and then presses his mouth to hers and takes the wedge in between his teeth. the whole thing has her skin burning all the way from her toes up to her ears, but she doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about it because as soon as he’s done, he’s kissing her.

their kisses are messy and wet, and lynn can taste the lime sitting on his lips and the tequila coating his mouth. his mouth is practically devouring hers in a way that has her chest aching and her fingertips tingling. there’s no way that the vodka and olive juice she had been drinking tasted as good as he’s making it seem.

harry pulls away when silas clears his throat and lynn can’t even work up enough nerve to look over at him. the blush on her cheeks. her heart skipping beats in her chest. the way she feels so giddy. god, it was like she was a teenager again.

“i think we should get another drink before we head back,” silas breaks the silence first.

harry agrees and the two of them follow silas over to the bar. harry’s got his arm around lynn’s back, and his hand rests on her waist. he orders his drink and her dirty martini while she pretends not to feel the way his thumb is sliding against the small sliver of skin poking out between her top and skirt.

lynn sits on a bar stool next to kathleen when her fourth dirty martini is placed in front of her. harry keeps his arm draped around the back of her chair, chatting to silas about their last game. silas claims harry cheated, but harry insists that silas is just a sore loser.

“are you three enjoying your vacation,” lynn hears her dad’s voice from down the bar, and makes no move to respond. instead, she brings her glass up to her lips and takes a big sip.

“i am,” harry turns his attention to the older man, offering him a small smile. “thank you for having me. i really appreciate it.”

“it’s the least i can do since you’ve been putting up with my daughter. she can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

her dad laughs, and lynn can’t help the rage that’s bubbling up in her chest. putting up with my daughter? how would he know what putting up with lynn was like? peter was only around for half of her life, and even then, they’ve only shared a few hundred words with each other, if that. the man barely fucking knew her.

“it’s quite the opposite,” she feels harry moving his hand from the chair to wrap around her shoulder and pull her into his chest. “really, lynn puts up with me.”

“good to know, but i was referring to jane,” he brings his bottle to his lips. “she has so much energy, and at my age…”

lynn doesn’t really care what else her father has to say, so she turns her attention to the bartender and orders herself one more. it would probably end up being a mistake because she could already feel her head going all fuzzy. (and that was obvious a drink ago when she made out with harry in the back corner of the bar.) but, she felt like she needed it in order to stomach being around her parents for a second longer.

“you’re sure you need another?” kathleen’s speaking to her. “don’t want to have a repeat of the last time where you didn’t even make it to dinner.”

lynn decides to pretend like she didn’t hear, and insteads thanks the bartender when he slides the glass in front of her. she didn’t come to dinner the night her mother is referring to because of something more than a little too much to drink, and she thinks that if she lets herself think about it for a minute longer, she’d start crying so hard that she might end up coughing up a lung.

aunt cecilia moves from the other side of her father to sit next to silas. she strikes up a conversation with the two boys, and lynn can’t make the buzzing in her brain quiet down enough to focus on what they’re saying. it is so unfair that being around her mother has the ability to ruin what was supposed to be a fun day with her friends.

lynn gets why silas invited her parents. really, she does. just because they treated her so poorly, doesn’t mean they treated everyone else the same. that was obvious when silas came home from his freshman year of college to all of his stuff sitting on the front lawn of his parents’ house. peter and kathy had moved every discarded item of his into the guest room within the day, and silas claimed it as his own until he moved out for good two years later.

“y’alright, honey?” harry’s voice is so low and breathy. it tickles her ear enough to make her laugh, and he offers her a warm smile at the sound. “there we go.”

his lips tenderly press against her forehead and then he’s leaning back to look at her, worry deep in his eyes. she loves when harry’s soft like this, even if she can see silas rolling his eyes at the two of them in her peripheral.

“i miss your last boyfriend,” lynn’s brought out of her trance by kathleen’s voice. “he never touched you like this in front of us. it’s just disrespectful.”

lynn thinks that she’s misheard her mom at first, but when harry’s hands fall from her, she knows he’s heard it, too. silas and aunt cece are deep in conversation, missing what kathleen had just said, and harry’s looking at her with a frown on his lips. his eyes are pleading with hers, like he’s trying to apologize for something that isn’t even his fault.

“i’m sorry, ms. kathy. i didn’t eve-”

“yeah, well,” lynn clears her throat. “jaxson used to hit me when we weren’t in front of you guys.”

“what?”

she knows that she shouldn’t have said it, especially not here. lynn’s just so upset and angry and sad, and all she wanted to do was make kathleen feel the way she has been making her feel since the day she was born. like a complete and utter failure.

“i couldn’t make it to dinner last time because my mouth was bleeding so bad,” her voice is quiet, yet her confession draws the attention from the rest of the group. “not because of one too many drinks.”

it was definitely the five dirty martinis that had her spilling the secret she’s held on to the tightest, but it’s out now and so were the tears that came flooding from her eyes.

“why didn’t you tell us?” her mom has tears of her own on her cheeks, and it only makes lynn roll her eyes. kathleen never really cared about her, and she wasn’t about to start letting her now.

“don’t you see how you treat me? of course i didn’t come to you. nothing i ever do is worth a second of your time,” lynn feels so incredibly vulnerable as she speaks. she half expects kathleen to tell her to grow up, and the other half expects her to get on her hands and knees and apologize profusely for being such a shit mother.

she does neither. instead her eyes fall on silas and aunt cece, a look of realization spreading across her face. “you two knew.”

when lynn showed up on her aunts’ doorstep after a particularly rough fight with her ex, aunt cece helped put her back together again and let her move in for a few months. they hid it from peter and kathleen, per lynn’s request, and when jane was born, she went home. the three of them never really spoke about it, but lynn thinks she wouldn’t be standing here right now if it wasn’t for aunt cece and aunt rosie.

“this is exactly what i fucking mean,” she stands up from her stool, using harry to steady herself, and then she begs him to please, please take her back to the condo.

and he does. harry doesn’t say anything the entire uber ride back. instead, he holds her hand in his lap and wipes under her nose with the sleeve of his shirt when he’s had enough of her loud sniffing.

“i could’ve found a tissue,” her voice is so scratchy it hurts when she speaks.

“but you didn’t,” harry counters. “‘was kind of grossing me out if i’m being honest.”

“heeeeey,” her hands gently shove his shoulders as she laughs under her breath. it’s quiet for a second, and she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from his. it’s like she can feel the pity from his eyes seeping into her own, and it makes her a little sad. “please don’t look at me like that.”

harry looks away and clears his throat, and lynn feels so incredibly guilty for even saying anything, “i don’t like when people pity me. i didn’t mean…”

“i know you didn’t mean to tell me, but knowing now helps me understand you better.” he’s running his forefinger along the creases in her palm. “and i don’t mean to make you feel like i pity you. i just… you didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“okay,” she offers him a warm smile. “i was going to tell you, but i was nervous that i’d scare you away.”

“you could never scare me away.”

“why’s that? am i your only friend?” lynn only means it in a teasing way, but the way harry’s smile drops says that she’s hit the nail on the head.

“yeah,” his face draws together when he speaks. “um, i don’t know. there’s not really anyone besides you. sorry if that’s weird or makes you uncomfortable. i’m not the best at making friends.”

“s’not weird. i was only joking, harry. i didn’t mean-”

“you don’t have to apologize,” his eyes fall to his lap, and then he looks back up to her. “that’s not why you can’t scare me away. i just… i like having you around, lynn. i don’t want that to change once we go home.”

his words make her cheeks warm, “it won’t. i like having you around, too.” and when that doesn’t feel like enough, “i’m really glad you came, harry.”

29 JULY 2018

when harry wakes up, the bed is empty and the condo is quiet. there’s no echoes of an overworked coffee pot and no hushed whispers bouncing off the walls. his phone reads 11:53am, and there is nothing but a singular text from lynn sitting in his notification center.

getting breakfast with si & then going to the beach. join us when you’re awake :)

harry gets out of bed and heads for the shower to wash the sleep off of his face (and also the sweat off of his body). he’s spent the last two nights wrapped up with lynn in the bed while silas took the couch. the girl loved her blankets, and being next to her sometimes made him feel like he was next to a furnace.

he decides against joining the two when he’s on his second lather of shampoo. after lynn had talked about her last relationship at the bar, the three have practically been conjoined at the hip doing pretty much everything together. even at the family dinners, they sat at the end of the table next to jane and amelia to keep kathleen, or anyone else, from bringing it up.

as soon as harry heard what lynn said, he wanted to throw up. he felt sick the entire uber drive back, and even worse when they sat on the couch next to one another and she told him about the time she had brought him here. lynn was so incredibly kind, and the thought of anyone hurting her was just so devastating.

but, he did as she asked, and tried acting like looking at her didn’t make his chest feel like it was caving in. (because it did.) instead, he offered her kisses and soft touches every time the thoughts got to be a little too much. lynn deserved to feel loved and appreciated, and he was going to make sure she never forgot that.

harry: i think i’ll spend some time with your sisters. have fun with silas

her response comes through almost immediately.

lynn: they’d loooove that!!! couldn’t stop talking about you at breakfast

lynn: i’ll miss you today :(

the grin that spreads across harry’s face when he reads the message is embarrassing. he never really understood what people meant when they said ‘giggling and kicking my feet’, but when he catches his reflection in the mirror, he gets it.

jane and amelia are waiting for him on the front porch of their condo, and as soon as he’s in sight, the little girl runs to him like she’s an olympian sprinter. she giggles as she does, and harry soaks up every last one because he knows there will be a time when he is nothing but a distant memory for her.

the three of them walk to an ice cream parlor that harry has been dying to go to since the first day they arrived. the outside was painted a bright pink and had mismatched patio furniture sitting out in front of it. he always found these ice cream shops to be the best, and preferred them over the lousy chains.

harry orders his usual mint chip and jane her chocolate chip, and then he tells amelia to get whatever she wants. it was his treat today, even though the two girls were the ones to bring up the idea to go. the older sister decides on a plain strawberry shake, and once it’s all paid, they sit at one of the tables outside.

“don’t forget your napkin,” he reminds jane. “i don’t want to return you all covered in sugar.”

the little girl laughs, and wipes awaythe river of melted vanilla ice cream flowing down her chin, “s’okay. mom says it’s bath night anyway.”

harry listens as jane then goes into a play by play of her day. if one singular detail was wrong, she’d have to pause, reset the scene, and then she could continue. it starts with her saying she chose a red shirt to wear, but actually it was more orange now that she’s thinking about it. then, it’s what she ate for breakfast. jane realizes midway through that she had actually eaten four apple slices instead of the five she said previously because silas had taken one from her plate. the whole thing is painful, but harry sits through every second of it with a smile on his face.

“you alright, amelia?” harry asks once jane has quieted down and turned her attention back to her ice cream. “you’ve been quiet.”

“does lynn ever talk about her last boyfriend?"

he swallows. "yeah. she talks about him sometimes. why?”

“he was mean to me,” amelia states. “and i thought you’d be the same.”

“melia, i would never-”

“i know. i know,” amelia’s quick to cut him off. “that was obvious when jane hit you with that ball.”

jane’s shoulders drop at her sister’s words, “i’m still very sorry, harry.”

“i know you are, janey,” his hand squeezes her little arm from across the table. “i already told you to stop worrying about.”

“i feel bad for being so rude to you,” amelia admits. “and for trying to get lynn to break up with you.”

“you what?”

“i’m sorry. i didn’t-” the girl’s stumbling over her words like she can’t get them out fast enough when harry interrupts her with a laugh. really, he doesn’t mean to, but the thought of amelia trying to end a relationship that wasn’t even real to begin had him giggling.

"no need to be sorry," he says. "if i saw my sister in a bad relationship, i'd probably act the exact same. probably even worse if i’m being honest.”

“a man who grew up with girls,” amelia nods her head slowly before sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed. “makes sense.”

“now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it’s a compliment! ugh, you’re so old.”

harry laughs at the girls in front of him, a feeling of genuine happiness washing over him. maybe he was planning too far ahead, but he can't help but think that he actually does want to be a dad.

“hurry up and finish your ice cream,” he says. “i think there’s a souvenir shop we can go to just a few stores up the street.”

the three don’t end up going back until dinner time. the two girls walk in front of him, each swinging their shopping bags at each other for no other reason than to be annoying. he didn’t really mean to spend a hundred dollars on the two, but he did. jane always looked up at him with big round eyes and he could never say no.

they had passed a boutique with a blue dress hanging in the window, and amelia made a comment about it matching the shade of lynn’s eyes. she was right. it was printed with this floral pattern and had ruffles at the sleeves. harry couldn’t stop thinking about just how pretty lynn would look in it, and that’s how he ended up with a bag of his own.

maybe it was pushing the boundaries of their friendship a little too far, but he really didn’t care. harry thinks it would be a crime for that dress to belong to anyone besides lynn.

aunt cece is the one who opens the door when jane knocks, and to his surprise, she invites him in to enjoy the dinner that she had prepared. he’s about to say no when she lets him know that lynn and silas had gone into town for an early dinner of their own before he had to go to the airport, so he changes his mind and joins the two aunts in the kitchen.

harry sits at the table while the two shared red wine out of a singular glass along with what seemed like a million kisses. rosie rested herself against cece’s back as she finished transferring the meal to serving dishes. she’d whisper things to the other in tones so quiet harry couldn’t make out the words, but each time aunt cece’s face would flush and she’d playfully push the other woman away.

he hopes he gets a love as pure as theirs when he’s older.

“what’s in the bag?” aunt rosie joins him at the table.

“it’s nothing really,” harry can feel his cheeks grow warm and he does his best to avoid the woman’s stare.

“oh come on, you’re blushing all the way to your neck. what is it? we’re very big on sex positivity, so-”

“oh my god. it’s a dress. a normal dress,” harry can’t listen to it a second longer. his finger pulls the collar of his shirt away from his neck. god, why was it so hot it here?

“aww,” aunt rosie coos at him, peaking into the brown paper bag. “it looks gorgeous, harry.”

he hums. “it reminded me of her.”

“you should take her to that restaurant she was talking about this morning tomorrow. give her a chance to wear it,” aunt cece says from the kitchen, and rosie seconds the idea.

“i overslept today, so i don’t really know which one you’re talking about.”

“hmm,” the woman in the kitchen has her hand on her hip and her face in her hands. “i’m forgetting the name.”

“latitudes,” kathleen’s voice comes from the doorway. “that’s the restaurant.”

harry can tell by her demeanor that she’s trying to be nice, so he offers her a warm smile before thanking her.

dinner isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. he imagined it being incredibly awkward because of what had happened a few days prior, but surprisingly it’s not. he’s not really sure what was said or what happened after he had left with lynn, but he suspects it was something eye opening by the way kathleen is acting.

when gets back to his condo, he finds lynn sitting on the living room floor with at least twenty photobooks sprawled around her. there’s a half full bottle of wine on the side table, and an empty glass seated at her feet. he wasn’t really sure where she kept getting so much wine. they had only purchased three bottles.

“hey,” he’s kicking his shoes off by the door.

“hey,” she doesn’t look up. her eyes are too focused on some photos that she’s holding in her lap, and he takes the opportunity to slip the boutique bag into one of his drawers.

harry changes into his pajamas and then gets himself a glass from the kitchen. with a deep breath, he moves to the living room and sits next to her on the ground. “can i join you?”

“you don’t have to ask,” lynn reaches for the bottle before filling both of their glasses and setting it back down. she offers him a smile, “such a silly question, harry.”

“did you and silas have a good day?”

“the best,” she says with a grin on her face. harry can’t help the jealousy that starts burning in his chest. he wonders if she says the same when silas asks about him. “we found all of these photobooks. what about you? were the girls good?”

“so good,” he replies. “we got ice cream, and had a little shopping trip.”

“i bet they had so much fun,” she takes her eyes away from the photo book to look up at him. her mouth opens and she pauses, and then, “i missed you today.”

they sit next to each other as lynn opens up a fresh book. it was full of photos from when she was only a kid. there were so many pictures of her in the summertime, lounging around a swimming pool wearing rugrats themed swimmies and eating ice cream, and there were even more of her hanging from the monkey bars in playgrounds and posing cutely in flower fields. his favorites were the ones of her standing behind a mixing bowl with a monogrammed apron tied around her waist.

as she turns the pages, the pictures turn from summer to fall and it goes from wide toothy smiles soaking up the sun rays to close lipped grins at school events. there were photos of her at chorus concerts and class parties and some of her sitting with her arms around her friends in the school cafeteria.

there’s a woman who appears in quite a few of the photos, not enough that he would say she was in almost all of them, but enough that harry recognizes her presence. she looked nothing like lynn or any of her family members. her skin was tan and she had long dark hair with matching dark eyes. she wore red lipstick in a lot of the photos, and every time she did, baby lynn had a matching red lip print stamped on the side of her cheek.

“who’s that?” harry decides to ask when she pulls out a picture from the plastic sleeve. it was of the woman hugging her tight while lynn held up a little certificate indicating she won some award.

“she was my au pair,” lynn traces the corners of the picture as she brings it closer to her face.

“the one your dad had an affair with?”

lynn shakes her head. “the one after. elena,” she clarifies. i spent most of my childhood with her.”

“yeah? it looks like she loved you an awful lot.”

“y’know like that feeling that you get when you think of your mom?” she asks. “i get that when i think of her. she was wonderful, harry.”

“do you still talk to her?”

“no, i think my mom stopped hiring her when amelia was two,” her voice is thick when she speaks, and harry can see the glassiness in her eyes when she looks over to pass him the photo. “i still use that recipe in my bakery today. i wish she could see it.”

harry looks at the photo and can’t stop the smile from growing on his lips. little lynn was grinning so wide, her smile nearly went from ear to ear. the certificate was proudly displayed in her hands with a large FIRST PLACE written across the top. elena had her arms wrapped around her body so tightly, you could see the imprints of her fingertips in little lynn’s flesh. his fingers flip the photo over, and his eyes scan the words written on the back.

e. adams, 1998

“you’re what?” harry speaks. “24? 25?”

“i’m 27,” the girl laughs when she sees harry’s face. “what? is 24 too young for you?”

“i’m 21, lynn,” he deadpans. “freshly, too. my birthday’s in february.”

“oh god,” her wine glass nearly tips over when she turns to face him, and harry wraps his fingers around the stem to catch it.

neither of them speak for a moment. her eyes are scanning over his face like she’s not really sure what to say. both of them had just assumed they were each other’s age.

“is that,” harry pauses. “does that bother you?”

lynn’s bottom lip goes between her teeth before she sighs, “i mean, it’s all pretend, isn’t it?”

harry wants to say that it doesn’t feel all pretend when lynn’s got his mouth pressed to his. or when they’re alone and her fingers rub every ounce of stress from his body. or when they’re in bed every night, pressed so closely together that harry can feel the way her heart beats against his own.

instead, he only smiles. “yeah, i guess it really doesn’t matter.”

they each finish their glass of wine, and harry’s quick to pour them the rest of whatever’s left in the bottle. honestly, she was right. what they were doing was supposed to be pretend. it was his fault for letting parts of it get too real.

maybe lynn didn’t need to know that some of his family disowned him because of his queerness. she also probably didn’t need to hear harry’s drunken confession about him being a friendless loser, and she definitely could’ve gone without seeing him sleeping with someone else.

he takes another large gulp of wine when the realization hits. he likes that she knows those things about him.

“evelyn,” her voice is soft as it pulls him from his thoughts.

“hm?”

“i know you saw it,” she points to the discarded photo on the ground between them. harry was so focused on the bolded 1998, he didn’t even notice the tiny e that preceded it.

“evelyn,” the intensity of his voice matches her, and as soon as the words leave his lips, her eye’s fill with tears. “oh, don’t cry.”

“they’re good tears,” she breathes. “promise.”

his hand cradles her face and tucks her hair behind her ear so it doesn’t get all sticky from the now falling tears. the way she looks up at him feels so real to harry, and it makes his chest grow tight. he didn’t know how he’d be able to walk away from all of this unscathed, but at least he had her now. he’d be stupid not to soak up everything she wanted to give him.

“it’s a pretty name,” he’s nearly whispering now. “fits you.”

“it was my grandmother’s,” she chews on her lips. “she was lovely, harry.”

“she sure seems like it,” her head feels heavy in his hand like she’s relying on him to hold it upright for her. “why’d you change it?”

“jaxson ruined it for me, and hearing it was a lot,” she sighs and her eyes squeeze shut. “it’s stupid i know.”

“i don’t think it’s stupid, blondie,” she looks up at him like she doesn’t necessarily believe him, and harry thinks that if he didn’t find out that she was twenty fucking seven years old minutes prior, he’d kiss her. “not stupid at all.”

really, he still wants to. harry wants to kiss her so hard that she forgets that goddamn loser that made her own name sound unbearable to her. the thought just makes him so incredibly angry. he could kill him.

“hearing it used to make my stomach churn,” she admits.

“it doesn’t anymore?”

her head shakes, “no. at least not when it comes from you.”

“i can call you evelyn if that’s something you want,” lynn sits up when he offers, straightening herself so she’s no longer leaning into his touch. he instantly misses the weight of her.

“yeah, i mean if it’s not too much of an ask. and maybe not in front of my family? it’s been forever since anyone’s called me that. i just- haven’t been able to recognize myself in the mirror since i started going by lynn.” she laughs lightly, but it just sounds sad at this point. “sorry, i think i’ve had too much wine.”

“yeah, i can do that,” harry hums, and he can’t help it when he reaches for her hand. his finger trails across the back of her knuckles. “it’ll be our little secret, won’t it, evelyn?”

30 JULY 2018

harry is absolutely gnawing the fuck out of the sides of his fingers while he waits for lynn to get out of the shower. as soon as she went in (for the third time because she kept forgetting things), he had laid out the dress neatly on the bed with a necklace that kathleen had slipped him at breakfast. she had said that it was lynn’s grandmother’s.

he wasn’t really sure if this whole thing was crossing the line of their fake dating arrangement. they’d be going for no other reason than to spend some time together, but really, friends spend time together all the time. silas and lynn just had dinner last night.

but did silas buy her a dress for it?

whatever. it was too late to take it all back now. he hears the water shut off, and harry knows he’ll see how she really feels about it soon. he was going to be sick.

the sound of the door knob twisting echoes through the quiet room, and then, “harry?”

“yeah?” he sounded so fucking stupid.

“what’s all this?”

“um, a dress?”

lynn moves into the doorway of the bedroom to look at him. she’s wearing a robe around her body and a towel in her hair. “obviously. where did it come from?”

“a boutique,” he replies, and she raises her eyebrow. “i bought it for you yesterday. with amelia and jane.”

“you bought me that?” her voice is quieter than before, and she no longer has the teasing smile that was sitting on her lips just a moment ago.

“yeah,” why did he feel so shy? “if you don’t like it, i kept the receipt-”

“don’t like it? harry, i love it. it’s gorgeous.”

“good,” he sighs. “i thought so, too.”

lynn doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t move from her spot in the doorway either. she’s got the softest smile on her face, and she’s looking at him like she’s not really sure what she wants to do next.

“well, go put it on,” he’s moving in her direction to get to the shower. “you don’t want to miss our latitudes reservations, do you?”

“no way!” she shrieks, and when harry follows it with a corny little ‘yes way’, she hugs him around his neck so tightly, her feet aren’t even touching the ground. “thank you. thank you. thank you.” her words are being whispered against the skin of the crook of his neck.

“it was nothing, really.”

“you always say that,” lynn leans away from him, still keeping her arms around his neck.

“i just like seeing you like this,” and maybe he should have picked different words.

“what?” she laughs. “half naked and pressed up against you?”

“jesus christ, no,” his cheeks warm, and he can feel the way her fingers are rubbing the back of his neck. “happy. you’re different here.”

“only when you’re the one here with me,” she presses a kiss to his cheek before stepping back. “now get in the shower. we are not missing latitudes.”

✮✮✮

lynn talks so much during the uber ride to the ferry port. she does it with a big grin on her face, and harry can tell that she’s genuinely excited about their night he had planned. she spends the entire drive discussing the menu and comparing it to yelp reviews, and when they’re on the ferry, she tells him stories about coming here with her grandma while her fingers toy with the small pendant that hangs from the gold chain around her neck.

the two talk all the way through two appetizers and a bottle of wine. harry lets lynn order everything for them because she was the one who wanted to come in the first place, and also because she had spent so much time dissecting the menu. honestly, he didn’t really care what he ate, as long as she was having everything she wanted.

their table was right on the beach, and he had a perfect view of the sun starting to set right behind lynn. harry was sure of only two things at this moment. lynn looks breathtaking in her pretty blue dress, especially during sunset, and he absolutely adores hearing her voice. harry thinks he could hear her talk forever and ever.

she tells him the story from the picture of her and elena with the first place certificate. it was a simple strawberry cheesecake cupcake, and the two had spent nearly a month practicing beforehand. lynn swears that they came out perfect every single time, except for the day of the contest. apparently, the first batch of icing wasn’t setting properly because she had cried too hard over the bowl.

when their mains come, harry realizes that this is the first time the two have hung out and gotten to know each other without some depressing undertone hanging around their conversation. sure, harry learned about elena last night, but the conversation was sad. here, lynn talked about her childhood with shiny eyes, and laughed with harry when he did the same with his.

“have you ever been grand gestured?” lynn asks around a forkful of seared grouper. her dish looked absolutely delicious, and harry regretted not getting it himself.

“not unless you’re counting a cheesy promposal.”

“hm,” she hums. “i’m going to have to go with no.”

“what about you?” harry picks up the wine bottle sitting in the chiller and works on refilling both of their glasses. “have you ever been grand gestured?”

“this is as close as i’ve come.”

“this is not a grand gesture,” harry stresses. he’s worried it’ll come across wrong for a moment until she laughs. “i just meant this is the bare minimum.”

“i know,” she smiles at him, and harry wishes he could take a picture of this moment and keep it tucked away inside his brain forever. “thank you for this again, harry.”

he’s a bit tipsy, and he can tell she is too by the amount of giggles leaving her mouth. harry always saw a sad lynn when she was drunk, and he can’t believe he was lucky enough to see this side of her, too.

this side was magical. there was really no other way to put it. she was the kind of woman that people write books about.

when harry gets tired of his pasta, he twirls little bites around his fork before leaning across the table and feeding it to lynn. it was probably a little immature to be doing at a restaurant like this, but he didn’t really care, and he could tell that she didn’t either by the little appreciative hums that fell around his fork everytime.

“ugh,” she groans when harry orders a slice of key lime pie for dessert. “harry, i’m going to explode!”

“s’okay,” his hand reaches across the table to pat the top of hers. “you don’t have to eat any of it.”

“of course i do. you know i love a sweet treat,” and really, he didn’t, but he does now.

their arms are wrapped around each other’s backs as they walk in through the front door of the condo. lynn immediately goes to the kitchen to get the last of their remaining wine while harry takes the bedroom to change into something a little comfier.

“more wine? where all you getting all of these?”

“been swiping them from my mom’s cabinet,” lynn’s sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the couch, and she laughs at harry’s words, the half empty bottle of wine pressed to her lips. after a sip, she stretches her arm out to harry, “c’mon. it’s our last night.”

he sits next to her, taking a gulp from the bottle before passing it back. “did you have fun tonight?”

“of course i did,” her voice is quiet, not much above a whisper. “i always have fun when we’re together.”

harry turns his head so he’s looking at her. he watches as her eyes drop to his mouth and then travel back up. a little laugh makes her hair float around her face, and as soon as harry thinks she’s leaning in, she stops with a loud ow falling from her lips.

and that’s how harry ends up sitting on the couch with lynn between his knees, working at the pinched nerve she complained about.

"jesus, you're so tight," harry mutters as his thumbs dig into the flesh of her shoulders.

"you're not the first guy to say that.”

"absolutely filthy tonight, aren't you?"

she laughs, and rests her head on her knees. a breathy moan pushes past her lips when he digs into a particularly sore area, "feels good. my neck fucking aches."

harry continues working her shoulders and neck, paying extra attention to the areas that make her breath hitch. he can’t stop looking at the way her lips part and eyebrows draw together. her head tilts back, and her neck strains, like she’s trying to stop herself from making a sound. the soft sighs and muffled whines that she does let fall from her mouth are enough to make him half hard.

he’s embarrassed by it, and really, he tries to think of anything else. if lynn knew he was feeling this way, they’d probably never speak to each other again, but her skin is just so soft and warm, and she sounded so fucking pretty. he really couldn’t help it.

“didn’t realize how much i missed this,” she murmurs with her head leaning against his knee.

“getting a massage? you know they have places for that.”

“knock it off,” he can feel her fingers pinching at his ankle. “i meant this… touching.”

harry hums. “i know what you mean.”

“what?” lynn laughs. “is seven days without taking someone to bed too long for you?”

harry hasn’t been with anyone in weeks. not since lynn had walked in on him and the girl from the bar. he wasn’t necessarily avoiding sex. it’s just that every time he’s gotten close to bringing someone home, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“s’different when it’s someone you care about,” he says instead.

harry can feel the way lynn stops picking at the carpet. her body stills except for her shoulders which move up with a deep breath when his fingers brush over her neck. he’s not really working out the knots in her muscle anymore. he’s just… touching.

it doesn’t last for very long because lynn is soon crawling up to sit next to him on the couch. she drapes her knees over his with a sigh on her lips and color blooming on her cheeks. her eyes are glassy when he looks into them, and her mouth is open like she’s going to say something. she doesn’t.

instead, her fingers cup his cheek, and then her mouth is pressing short, sweet kisses to his. she’s slow with it. her lips lazily sucking, and sometimes she drags her tongue slowly across his bottom lip, never letting it venture past that. harry savors her kisses, letting her do whatever she wants.

he knows it’s just fun for her. she’ll probably pull away with a giggle and say something about how it’s been so long since she’s been kissed like that. she’d press her lips against his once more and then they’d go to sleep. it was his fault for letting it feel intimate. with every suck of her mouth, he felt the want for her grow hot in his belly. she was just so perfect.

her lazily kisses pick up a little more pace until they’re feverish. she sucks and licks and harry groans when he feels her teeth nip at his lips. he thinks he possibly couldn’t get even more turned on than he is right now and then she’s straddling his lap, her knees tightly pressed at the sides of his thighs.

“fuck,” she gasps into his mouth as soon as he feels her against him. harry can’t even think straight. the warmth of her has his brain going foggy and his heart racing in a way that should probably be concerning. all it took was one roll of her hips, and he was a pathetic, whining mess beneath her.

"maybe you'd like a reward for all of your hard work?" she breathes into his mouth as she grinds down against him.

"i hope it's that mouth," the pad of his thumb brushes across her lips. they’re swollen and shiny with their spit. "y'know how much i like kissing you. still sweet from dessert, too.”

"how does my throat sound?" harry thinks that he’s heard her wrong, but then she parts her lips and takes his thumb into her mouth, sucking hard.

he can’t help the way he groans at the sight in front of him. her pretty blue dress all the way up to her thighs with her red lips wrapped around his thumb. she is going to kill him.

when she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, harry pushes his thumb further back before pressing it down right at the back of her mouth. she gags at the intrusion, looking down at him with big, teary eyes.

"don't think you could fit all of me in there," he pushes down a few more times just to see the way her eyes water over, and then he lets his thumb smear the thick saliva pooling at the corners of her mouth down her chin and all the way to her chest.

"wanna find out?"

he hums, leaning forward. "how bad do you want it?"

she laughs a little, the air from her mouth fanning across his face. "i don't beg, harry. especially not for you. don’t you see that?”

"oh really?" he pulls her into a searing kiss, letting his fingers slide all the way around to the back of her neck until they’re threaded in her hair. harry grabs a fistful of the soft strands and pulls her mouth away from his while his other hand nudges her leg over so she’s back sitting next to him. "that's too bad, blondie."

his lips sponge soft, wet kisses from her mouth down to her shoulders, and then back up. he angles her head so he can trail them up the front of her throat all the way to right below her ear. he lets his teeth graze at the soft skin until she’s letting out a shaky breath and pushing his face away.

"god, harry," he thinks she's going to cave. "i know you're practically a teenager, but you don't have to try and mark me up like one."

"didn't realize turning thirty meant you can't have any fun," harry bites back.

"i am not-" he presses his lips to hers, swallowing down whatever else she was going to say. he thinks if he had to spend one more second without his mouth on hesr, he’d die. "you're lucky you're pretty."

"you think i'm pretty?" he's got a teasing grin on his face.

"don't be annoying. look at you.” and that was it. he knew exactly how to get under her skin.

"do you think i'm prettiest in those yellow swim shorts you put in my suitcase?" he’s leaning in so his nose is nudging hers. lynn’s face flushes and she opens her mouth to speak but closes it. "don't get all shy on me now. i've felt you staring all day."

she scoffs, hands coming up to push at harry’s chest. "you wish."

"maybe i do," a kiss. "wore them just for you after all."

lynn fists his t-shirt, bringing his mouth back to hers. they kiss like they’ve been starved of each other for weeks. harry lets his touch slide up her calf, and his fingers caress the back of her knee.

"harry," her words are soft. a whimper.

"evelyn," harry’s fingers push higher, running all the way up to the inside of her thigh and back down. each time his touch gets closer until he’s thumbing at the cotton edge of her underwear. "what's the matter, blondie? you've gone all quiet on me."

"please," is all she says. it’s so quiet, harry barely catches it over the sound of his heart thumping in his ears.

"what was that?"

"you heard me.”

"i don't think i did."

"please, harry," she rolls her eyes at him, but harry sees right through it.

"please what?" his thumb slides a little under her underwear where he could feel the heat pooling. "are you still all achy?"

lynn nods with a whine in her throat and she turns her head to try and hide the pink flush in her cheeks. looking at her is practically intoxicating.

"gonna tell me where so i can make it better?"

when she doesn’t answer, he squeezes her shoulder, "here?"

her head shakes.

“hmm..” his fingers trail to her neck. “here?”

another shake.

“what about here?” he says as his fingers pinch back at her calf.

lynn groans as she takes his hand, pressing his fingers against her cloth covered center. "here, harry."

"poor, baby," harry murmurs against the crook of her neck. his finger is only gently running against the dampness of her underwear. enough to make her whine, but not enough to give her much relief. "got yourself all worked up over what? little old me?"

"you're ridicu-" a moan from deep in her chest cuts her off when harry thumbs at her clit. she’s looking at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest. he’s not sure if she didn’t expect him to actually touch her, or if she wasn’t expecting to sound so loud.

"here's what i think," he’s only looking at her, his hand back to barely touching her. "you like to act all tough, but it's quite the opposite, really. my sweet honey just needs someone to take care of her, doesn’t she?"

"y-yes.”

he adds a little bit of pressure. a treat for giving him what he wanted. "wanna hear you say it.”

lynn doesn’t answer, and harry tsks before pulling away from her. “nothing? what a shame?”

"i need someone to take care of me," she rushes out like she was so desperate for his touch to be back on her. and what kind of man would harry be if he didn’t listen?

"who?" he pushes further. she's looking at him with furrowed brows. "who do you need to take care of you? to make it all better?"

"you," she cries, her voice broken and needy. "need you to make it better. please, harry.”

"there you go," he praises her with a few kisses to her face. "c’mere, baby."

he tugs her hand so she’s seated in between his legs with her back pressed to his chest. she spreads her legs over his when he nudges her with his knee, and then his fingers find the hem on the pretty blue dress to bunch it at her waist.

"being so good f'me," he kisses her neck while he lets his fingers travel over the plush flesh of her tummy. sure, he felt her like this every night, but this was different. "don't wanna do anything you don't want to, okay? just have to tell me if you want to stop."

"okay," she rushes out. "just... please."

"such good manners," he murmurs against her skin. "think you deserve a little reward."

harry wishes he could forever hear the sound she made when he first dipped his fingers in the front of her underwear. he never imagined her to be so noisy, so loud, but with each stroke of his fingers came whines and moans and whimpers so filthy, they would make the devil look away.

his hand is cramping against the restricting fabric, so he pushes her ruined underwear down her legs, leaving her to kick them the rest of the way off, before moving her hand to the back of her thigh and instructing her to hold herself open for him.

“you’re so fucking hot when you listen, y’know that?” lynn whines at his words and squirms against him as his fingers slowly make a mess of her, watching the way her arousal strings between his fingers. harry’s breathing stops when he catches the perfect view of her. all spread open and glistening. just for him.

harry’s thumb rubs circles against her clit while the rest of his fingers move all the way down, teasing at her entrance. he never pushes in further than his fingertip before he moves them back up and starts again. he does this until she’s so wet that he knows it has to be dripping down onto the couch, and then he slowly pushes a finger in.

lynn’s head is tilted back against his shoulder, and he sponges kisses to the part of her neck that she has bared to him.

“do you think y’can come from this?” he murmurs against her skin. “i know it’s-”

“yes,” she’s quick to breathe out. “god, yes. you’ve got me so fucking horny right now. i’ll be the easiest you’ve ever had.”

and she’s right. once harry moves his free hand from her waist to her center to give her a bit more stimulation, she’s a goner. her moans and whimpers turn into high pitched whines, and her back arches away from him. he can feel her clenching on his fingers, and all it takes is one more curl and she’s nearly convulsing.

harry’s fingers offer lazy touches until she’s whining and snapping her legs together. his lips press warm, encouraging kisses against her neck and shoulders and really, anywhere they could reach. lynn melts in to him, her face falling in the crook of his neck. little giggles tickle his skin as he pulls her dress down to cover her back up.

“so perfect, evy,” he whispers. he expects another laugh or maybe a bashful shove, but instead she’s quick to stand up and head for the front door. “wait.”

"i- um, sorry i just," she clears her throat, and then. "i need some air."

"lynn-" the door slams, and harry’s left wondering what exactly he did wrong.

✮✮✮

harry: im sorry

harry: i shouldn’t have let myself get so carried away

harry: i don’t know what else to say but i am so sorry.

lynn shuts off her phone and slips it into her pocket before quietly opening up the door to the bedroom. all of their stuff was packed up. only an outfit that she had picked earlier in the day was left on top of her suitcase in a nice neat pile. the huge mess she had made in the bathroom before dinner was all packed up into her toiletry bag, and when she stepped a bit closer, she could see harry stretched out under the covers all the way on the other side of the bed. he was such a gentleman.

she felt so embarrassed when she found herself calling her aunt to let her into her condo. she didn’t mean to run out on harry the way she did, but once everything started to feel a little bit too real, she didn’t know what else to do. what was she supposed to say? i actually haven’t let anyone touch me like that in over half a decade, but yeah, we can call it two friends just helping each other out.

her aunt offered her a shower and a change of clothes and then sat with lynn on the bathroom floor while she cried so hard, she nearly threw up. aunt cece rubbed her back while she dry heaved over the toilet bowl, and then she sat and listened while lynn told her all about their fake arrangement.

“isn’t that pathetic?” lynn had said once she was finished.

aunt cece only sighed, “i think it’s more pathetic that you’re crying this hard over here instead of just telling him how you feel.”

and once aunt cece mentions that she thinks that harry likes her in a way that’s more than just platonic, lynn starts thinking that maybe letting him know about her feelings wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

they’d spend more alone time together once they got home. lynn would probably invite him to the bakery on a sunday where she could show him everything elena had helped her create. she’d send him home with loaves of bread and all of the muffins his heart desires.

maybe he’d let her watch him paint. they could spend sunny afternoons in the park with a picnic and a canvas. she’s only ever been artistic in the kitchen, but she’d definitely try to paint something for harry. it’d probably end up terrible, but he’d keep it. maybe even hang it up in his house. she knows she’d do the same. covering her walls in harry’s art just because they were made from him.

long nights would be spent in between her sheets, where he’d give her the best orgasms she’s ever had in her entire life (just like he did tonight). and then maybe, he’d let her touch him, too.

“he called me evy,” lynn told her aunt. it was the very phrase that had her running, but this time a smile forms on her face when she thinks of it. “i told him about evelyn, but not evy.”

it was a nickname her grandmother had given her. everyone had called the older woman evie, and so she called lynn, evy. she had said she wanted her granddaughter to feel like her own person, and the name stuck.

the first time her dad called her evy after her grandmother's passing lynn cried so hard she threw up in her front yard. it didn't feel right coming from peter, and even when luke wrapped her in all the love he could muster, pressing kisses to her face and promising evy that everything would be okay night after night, it still felt wrong. it was like there was an itch that could only be scratched by her grandma's voice. and now harry's.

“maybe she sent him to you,” her aunt’s fingers smoothed her hair away from her face before kissing her head. “go see him.”

harry looks up from his phone when he hears lynn step into the small room. “i’m so fucking sorry, lynn.”

his voice is raw and scratchy, and the thought of him crying over what she did to him makes her heart break. she climbs into the bed, sitting with her feet underneath her. “you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“but, i-”

“nothing, harry,” she stresses."you didn't do anything wrong. i just... i get in my own head sometimes. i'm sorry i left the way i did."

"it’s okay," he rolls over so he's facing her. his hand covers hers. "you can talk to me when you feel like that, lynn."

"the guy i dated before my last, he was," she clears her throat. "he was a friend. well, he is a friend and i think..."

she doesn't know how to say what she wants. lynn thinks dating her friend was one of the best decisions she's ever made. that relationship happened nearly a decade ago and she still secretly wishes that she was selfish and asked him to stay when he came to her door.

well, she used to wish. she hasn’t thought about it in a while.

she thinks that maybe her and harry could be like that. or they could try to be like that. they were friends. they knew each other and she was comfortable with him. comfortable enough to let his hand go up her dress. her cheeks warm at the thought.

she'll tell him that being with luke ruined their friendship and she was never close with him again. lynn never really minded the way luke slipped so easily from her life, but she’s terrified that the same would happen with harry. she really likes having him around.

she’s going to tell him regardless, and perhaps she’ll make him promise that trying wouldn’t ruin anything. that if their relationship went south, they’d still have their friendship to fall back on.

"i think that, um," she closes her eyes and harry squeezes her hand. “um, well-”

"it's okay. i'm still hung up on my ex, too. what happened between us doesn't have to mean anything."

oh.

"okay," she breathes, trying to make sure she didn’t look as devastated as she fucking felt. "good. that’s what i was going to say."

harry sighs, "i haven't been able to stop thinking about him recently, if i'm being honest."

shut up! shut up! shut up! shut up!

"why don't you tell me about him?" she gets under all of the covers, an excuse to pull herself away from him. "since you know about mine."

lynn doesn’t really know why she asks, but she did. so, she listens to harry talk about his stupid ex named oliver with a huge smile on her face. like she could not be more elated to be hearing about how much he loves him if she tried. lynn wipes his tears when he talks about how mean he was to the boy when they were in high school, and even holds his hand when he hiccups about how much he misses him.

“you should reach out to him,” she says, letting her fingers card through his hair.

“you think so?” harry sniffs.

“yeah,” lynn hums. “it might be good for both of you.”

when lynn mentions it, she doesn’t expect him to do it right then and there, but he does. he pulls out facebook messenger, and she has to pretend not to notice the way that oliver jones was the only saved search.

maybe they’ll meet up, oliver will want nothing to do with him. harry will have a cleared conscious and he'll come back to lynn. she’ll go to therapy as soon as the plane’s wheels touch down in westchester, so when he ultimately comes knocking at her door, she’ll be better. good for him. yeah, she thinks. that will totally happen.

she clings on to whatever little sliver of hope she had left because that stupid scenario was the only thing keeping her from bursting in to tears.

when lynn looks over at harry, he’s tapping away on his phone screen. the dim light illuminates his face, and she decides if that moment were to ever come around, she’d be selfish. just that once.

✰✰✰✰

a/n: this felt like sooo much information but! part six sooon (hopefully by the end of next week)

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