#harry styles fuck me sideways
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Styles Sunday
#harry styles#fuck me sideways#i fucking love him#adorkable#rockstar boyfriend vibes#harry edward styles#harry cute#harry styles fuck me sideways
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Show Me*
Summary: The second part to Teach Me*
Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. Like...how to get somebody off underneath a table.
And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.
Word Count: 6k
“So…how did she like it?”
Harry laughs as he slips out of his car. “Wow, I think that’s a new record. Waited a whole thirty seconds to ask me.”
“Bite me,” you retort as he makes his way toward where you’re waiting on the sidewalk. “Well?”
He shrugs, hands shoving into his pockets. “Dunno. We never got to it.”
“So, just straight to the fucking, then, huh?” you question. “No foreplay at all? I mean, hey…if that’s what she’s into…great. But, personally, I think the foreplay is the best—”
“All right,” he interjects with a wicked yet amused grin. “That’s not what I meant. She got called into work before we could.”
“Oh.” You offer him a pitiful frown. “Sorry, bud.”
“Bite me,” he mimics as he brushes past you. “S’fine. It’ll happen when it happens.”
“That’s the spirit,” you encourage as you fall in-line beside him. “Gives you more time to find your nerve.”
“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, glancing down at the concrete. “Or more time to practice…other things.”
“Other things?”
“Yeah,” he says again, one brow raising as he looks back over. “You know, like…how to eat ass.”
Finally catching onto his joke, you groan and reach out to shove him away from you, watching as he stumbles with a laugh. “Fucking hilarious.”
“Listen, I was actually looking forward to it,” he continues, hand over his heart as if disappointed. “I bet you really know how to eat some ass.”
“Ha…ha.”
“What? You do, don’t you? Cause of…Eric?”
The familiar but dreaded name sends a shiver down your spine as you recoil away and scrunch your nose in horror. “Ew.”
He looks proud. “Well? Am I wrong?”
“Yes,” you huff before sighing. “…no. But he wasn’t that great of a teacher, anyhow.”
“No fucking kidding,” Harry snorts with a smile. “You’re much better.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course,” he beams, reaching out for the door of the restaurant to swing it open. “After you.”
“As it should be,” you tease, winking to hint at the double entendre, and his eyes roll.
You find your large group of friends already gathered around a table near the back of the room, and quickly make your way over.
For the next few minutes, you all exchange pleasantries, catch-up, and tease Harry about his failed attempt at mating.
He’s a good sport about it, flipping everyone off with a smile before changing the subject.
Because, despite the jokes, all of you know that Harry could have anybody he wanted. Maybe his experience in the bedroom is lacking but that’s only because it was a personal choice that he made. And everybody knows it. As far as charm and seduction go? Harry Styles is a king.
Perhaps even a God.
…no, that’s giving him too much credit.
You shake your head, clearing the thought away as you listen to your friends gossip about the newest celebrity drama and reality TV scandals.
And you try to care. Really, you do.
But your mind keeps…drifting.
To Eric.
God, you could just kill Harry for re-planting that seed in your subconscious and reminding you of the worst mistake you’ve ever made.
Because there was a time when Eric was everything to you. When you were closer to him than you were to Harry. When you trusted him—completely—with your mind, soul, and body.
And of course, he just had to shit all over the self-growth and progress you’d made.
You feel your phone vibrate from its place on your thigh, and you glance down to see Harry’s name flashing across the screen.
Sneaking a curious sideways peek his way, you swipe up to read his text.
So…Pete Davidson is Kim Kardashian’s stepfather now? Am I hearing that right?
Confused, your brows pull together as you look over at him.
His explanation is to nod at your friends across the table with a smirk, and you laugh.
I don’t know, you type. I wasn’t listening.
Oh? Why not? This is fascinating stuff.
Idk. Just wasn’t.
Harry’s expression seems to fall as he studies you before his fingers are flying across the screen. You were thinking about Eric, weren’t you?
…nooooooo.
His eyes narrow.
So what if I was?
Bee…you can do better than that. Even in your head.
See, you say that, and yet…here I am.
Because you’re not doing better. You can…you just aren’t.
Yeah? And how exactly would I do better?
You catch the way his lips pull back into a Cheshire-like grin as he begins to type.
Well, you kind of already did do better. With me. The other day.
Swallowing a scoff, you type, That was only because I felt bad for you.
Think you felt a lot of things that day, Bee. But bad wasn’t one of them.
You toss him a playful glare. Are you ever gonna let that go?
Not likely. After all, you did promise me another lesson.
You don’t need another lesson, you just need to stop being so goddamn annoying.
Come on, you can’t deprive me now. Not when I know I have so much to learn.
Google it.
Ouch.
You’ll live.
It’s not living if it’s not with you.
This time, you do groan, and reach over to swat his arm. “Stop,” you hiss. “You really are fucking annoying.”
“Learned from the best,” he retorts, leaning closer to you in an attempt to conceal the conversation. “Learned a lot of things from you, actually.”
“Harry,” you huff again, but you’re smirking. “My god, you don’t really wanna learn how to eat ass do you?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what I wanna learn. That’s why I need a teacher. To teach me what I want.”
You know he’s fucking with you. You can see it all over his face and yet, for some reason…your interest is piqued. “Thought that was a one-time deal.”
“It was,” he agrees. “But…the door to knowledge is never closed.”
He follows this up with a devious chuckle to let you know he’s teasing, and you nudge him again. “See? Annoying.”
For a moment, you both put the topic to bed and return to the conversation happening across the table.
But again, your mind wanders.
Wanders all the way back to your bedroom and the image of Harry’s curls wound around your knuckles.
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about that afternoon quite a few times since it happened. After all, you’re only human. And Harry had done a rather excellent job. Sure, you’ve had a tad better. But for his first time…it wasn’t half bad.
And you’d waited to feel weird about it after the fact…but you never did. Which was strange. The two of you returned to your normal routine as if it had never happened.
And you were certainly glad for that. So why is it that now, as the opportunity for a relapse is placed so obviously in your lap, are you not repulsed by it?
Why is it that you haven’t immediately shut the idea down? Laughed it off? Why is it that you’re…considering it?
Again?
You almost want to shudder at the very thought, but as you look over to the chair beside you and take in Harry’s relaxed smile as he listens to your friends talk…something seems to shift.
You will admit, since your little…experiment…you’ve begun to equate those kinds of memories and feelings with Harry instead of Eric.
And that’s another thing you wouldn’t dare complain about. You like the idea of being able to associate pleasure with someone that makes you feel safe. Secure instead of unhinged.
And perhaps this is a huge mistake…but suddenly, you can’t seem to see the harm?
He gets to learn how to make a woman feel good and you get to erase Eric from your past permanently.
What could possibly be so wrong with that?
Subtly, you clear your throat as you turn your head to him, calling his attention away as he raises a brow.
“Okay, so…if I were to agree to another lesson…” you begin hesitantly as his eyes grow wide. “I’d need a little…information.”
He angles his body toward you as well, murmuring, “Yeah? Like what?”
You think for a moment. “I don’t know…what kinds of kinks do you have?”
“I don’t know,” he repeats smugly, nodding his chin at you. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me find out?”
You quickly glance across the table to make sure nobody is listening as you lean in and whisper, “Well…I don’t even know where to start with you. You’re a virgin, it’s hard.”
“I’m not a virgin,” he corrects with a scoff. “I just…haven’t done it a lot since the first time.”
“Mhm,” you snort. “Doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t know what you like, there’s no way I’ll know.”
He studies you for a second, seeming to think. “Well…why don’t you tell me what you like? Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”
You hesitate. What do you like? “Uh…okay. I mean, I like pretty much everything, I guess.”
“Yeah? Like what? Name something.”
Well…shit. “Um…I don’t know. Have you ever heard of…exhibitionism?”
He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, brows lifting up with intrigue. “I’m 27, I’m not dead.”
“Hilarious.”
“Why? S’that something you’re into?”
You swallow but force a relaxed and nonchalant demeanor. “Kind of, yeah. Fun to play with what’s mine when anybody could see.”
He almost seems impressed, leaning back as he looks at you. Really looks at you. “You don’t fucking say.”
“Okay, don’t make it a whole thing,” you whisper urgently, already swatting at him in warning. “It was just an idea. We can always think of something—”
“Show me.”
You pause. “Show you…what?”
He nods his chin at you. “Show me how you’d play with what’s yours when anybody could see.”
Your expression falls. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He nods. “I’m a vessel. Show me. Teach me.”
And maybe it’s the glass of wine offering you an extra ounce of courage, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already done this once before, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Harry…
But whatever it is, you reach out, and smooth your palm along his upper thigh, just to watch his breath catch. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, careful to keep beneath the suspicion of the group across the table. “Because I need to know if you can…handle it.”
You feel him tense, his fingers flexing across the tablecloth as he regards you. “I’ll handle anything you want me to.”
Your hand drifts a little higher. “And you’ll sit here? And be a good student?”
He shoots you a coy smile. “The best.”
A little higher. “And you know your safe word?”
“‘Stop,’” he answers, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll need it, though.”
“You might.”
“Won’t.”
“Maybe.”
“No fucking way.”
You slow to a stop, centimeters away from the rather obvious dip in his pants. “Don’t say that. Just use it. If you need to.”
His expression softens. “I know, Bee. I will. Promise.”
“Good.” So, with that and a deep breath, you take the plunge, ghosting your touch over his covered cock.
And it’s different this time because it’s you touching him. It’s his body in your hands and this far exceeds your usual high-five.
You aren’t sure what you expected. You kind of already know he’s big from the few times you guys have gone swimming together. And he’s accidently brushed up against you before when scooting past you and worn sweatpants that did absolutely nothing to help him hide an erection (another reason why you’re never watching a Margot Robbie movie with him again).
But feeling it now…knowing exactly what this man is in possession of…feels forbidden.
You keep your expression stoic, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your awe as you watch the way his lashes flutter.
“Easy,” you warn in a delicate whisper. “Rule number one…make a sound and I stop.”
His teeth grit as he leans back against his seat. “Fine.”
“Good.” You bring your fingers together until you can cup your palm around him, adding just the slightest amount of pressure before glancing back at your friends.
They’re laughing about something, you don’t really know what, but you smile and nod along as if absolutely enthralled.
And as the seconds pass, you feel Harry grow harder in your hand. Needier. He shifts at least three times a minute, clearly struggling to keep from bucking up into your touch.
You’re being as easy on him as you can. A few squeezes, a bit of palming, and some light brushing just to tease him.
He’s gripping onto the edge of the table so tight, you’re surprised it’s not shaking. But he’s restraining himself, as best he can, and you feel oddly…proud.
You maneuver a little closer, head dipping until your lips are close to his ear. To anyone else, it might look like you're merely trying to be heard over the loud music.
But Harry knows better.
"This...is where the fun is," you tell him. "Knowing it would be so easy to have you coming in your pants. Right here, right now. In front of everybody."
You add a bit more pressure and watch the way the veins in his arms begin to strain against his skin. The way the muscles in his jaw constrict and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.
“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmur as his fingers begin to scratch down the table, desperate to grab onto something. “Feel what it does to you…to be played with. Just like this…exactly like you wanted.”
He sucks in a quiet gasp for air as his head threatens to drop back, little curls falling across his forehead.
He’s not stopping you. And you know he won’t. He’ll happily let himself go right into his trousers, in front of the whole goddamn resturant. Right here, right now.
But that wasn’t apart of the lesson.
So, just when you can feel his resolve begin to crumble…you stop.
He exhales a long, deep breath, slumping into the chair as if completely drained of all energy, and you almost want to laugh.
“So…what did you learn?” you ask softly as you lean back in.
“That Eric’s a fucking ass,” he replies instantly, shooting you a lazy grin. “And that we’re definitely not kids in a tree house anymore.”
“No kidding,” you agree. “Anything else?”
He mulls this over, eyeing you closely. “That I think I’m more of a…hands-on learner.”
Your brow raises. “What does that mean?”
His answer comes in the form of his touch, hand outstretching for your leg, long fingers brushing across the hem of your dress. “It means…I need to see for myself.”
He pauses down by your knee in order to allow you the time to understand and either accept him or reject him.
But you simply blink, focus falling from his face down to your lap. “Ah…I suppose that makes sense.”
His lips roll into his mouth. “Mhm…what do you say, Teach?”
Your nose scrunches at the nickname but you smile. “I say practice makes perfect.”
And he wastes no more time in slipping beneath the fabric to travel up your thigh and toward your hips.
Now, you’re the one forced into restraint, a gasp immediately hitching in your throat as he brushes his thumb down the front of your underwear.
It instantly brings you back to the last time, and his touch, while familiar and oddly reassuring, makes your head spin.
You slowly look over at him, taking note of the way he’s so goddamn proud of your reaction, and the way he returns his attention to your friends.
Exactly like you had.
Because this is the lesson after all. The concept of teasing and torture and watching somebody come undone so easily.
The idea of getting caught.
You could tell from the moment you reached for him that this was something he was into. But even when he was trying not to thrust up into your hand, it was obvious that his interest lied with you and your pleasure.
With the idea of putting you under this sort of duress.
He really is a sadist.
Good to know.
"How's this for practice?" you hear him murmur as you become vaguely aware of the way he's scooted his chair closer to you.
You open your mouth, lips parted and ready to respond, but you can feel the beginning of a whimper threatening its escape.
So you swallow—thickly—and nod your head once.
"Good, then?" he asks, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs over his hand. "Bee...I need you to speak."
But you can't fucking speak. The pressure of his touch has increased, and it feels so...so fucking good. "It's....yeah. Fine. It's fi—"
Suddenly, you gasp, and thankfully, it's lost beneath the jazz music still loudly playing through the restaurant.
But it's not lost on Harry, and you watch his smug smile expand as his teasing begins to slow. "Uh-uh," he tuts softly. "You know the rules. Make a sound...and I stop."
You exhale the singular word, "Har," and he hums.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"
You have to physically fight the urge to whimper with desperation. Truth be told, he’s hardly even doing anything, but his hands…
You’d fucked up by sneaking a glance down at the tattooed skin disappearing beneath your dress. Because it’s sinful to feel the cold, metal of his rings brush against your warm thighs. Sinful to know he’s pressing his thumb into you just to feel the way you’ve begun to soak the material he’s so effortlessly playing with.
He…is sinful.
And then suddenly…his touch disappears. Retreats from between your legs as your mouth just about drops open.
And you could cry at the loss of contact because it felt so safe and so exciting. Teasing or not, it was so fucking good, and you hate him for making you go without.
But then…you learn why.
His fingers move to wrap around the edge of your seat, getting a good grip on it…before he yanks.
Your chair is forced closer to his, squeaking against the floor as he begins to smirk victoriously.
“There,” he declares quietly before his hand is returning to your lap. “Much better, don’t you think?”
And it is better because now he’s so much closer, and has so much more room, and you’re so fucking close to just throwing in the towel and hurling yourself at him. Friends be damned.
“Speak, Bee,” he repriminds after a minute of your silence, and instantly, you begin to squirm.
“Har,” you whisper, both begging him for his mercy and for his cruelty.
“What?” he replies evenly. “What do you need, hm?”
You, you think. “Can’t…s’just…”
“Come on,” he tsks. “Think you can do better than that, can’t you?”
But you can’t.
“Please,” you try again, a faint request.
“Please…what?”
“Har…”
“Uh-uh. Tell me. What?”
Again, you swallow, willing yourself to stay silent. "Har—”
“No.”
“Harry—"
"...Harry?"
This time, it's Charlie calling his name, and immediately, you go deathly still as you turn back toward your friends.
However, Harry is calm as he raises a brow. "Yeah?"
For a moment, the three across from you simply stare, rather curiously before Charlie says, "Oh, I was just asking how Tina is?"
You could almost moan with relief.
“She’s good, yeah,” Harry answers cooly, pointer finger hooking around the edge of the material on your thighs to pull it aside. “Yeah, real good. Been working a lot, so I haven’t seen her much.”
“Aw, that’s too bad,” Jackie offers with a pout. “Is she nice? Will we like her?”
Harry laughs, head shaking with amusement as if he’s not dragging his thumb down your clit while you swallow a rather desperate whine. “She’s nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it that far, though.”
Caleb’s head tilts. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out, like…twice. S’not really that serious yet.”
And you almost snort, because to you…he seemed pretty serious about her.
But you suppose eating pussy doesn’t exactly require an engagement ring, and maybe he just wants a fuck buddy.
“Well…she still needs to pass the approval test,” Jackie argues with a wink. “And the fact that she strung you along for two months is not doing her any favors.”
“She was just making him work for it,” Charlie teases. “And he needs to be humbled, so I say good for her.”
“Please. Look at him,” she snorts. “He’s too pretty to be this dumb. Okay, he can do better than Tammy—”
“Tina,” Harry corrects before slowly easing the tip of his finger in, and your entire body goes rigid.
“—yeah, whatever. The point is…you can do better,” Jackie finishes proudly, shooting a pointed look toward Charlie.
Harry begins to smirk, slowly stealing a glance at you. “Yeah. Maybe we can all do better.”
Now curious, Caleb nods at you, and you do your best to control your reactions as he says, “Yeah, speaking of which…have you heard from…him?”
You shake your head quickly, mentally damning Harry to hell as he pushes in a bit further just to make it harder for you to reply. “Uh…no. Nope. Not since that night.”
“I’ll kill him,” Jackie tells you. “No, really. I will. I’ll hit him with my car and drag his dead body out to the woods, and watch the bears eat him.”
You breathe out a laugh, but it’s outrageously forced, and Harry can tell. “It’s…it’s fine. He’s…you know, we all move on. I’m fine.”
“Sure,” Harry says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Yeah, you seem fine.”
“Oh, I am,” you murmur through a tight-lipped smile. “Fucking fantastic.”
“Good,” he hums before you can feel him curl upward. “Hope it stays that way.”
Your hands drop to the chair beneath you, and you grip onto the sides for dear life in an attempt to keep from reeling. “Thanks for your…concern.”
“Anytime,” he beams as you feel him slip out. “Just want you to…do and feel the best that you can.”
The wet pad of his finger then returns to your clit as he presses into it just to push it in a teasing circle.
Your eyes just about roll back as you quickly turn your face toward your shoulder and fake a cough. “Fuck…sorry,” you apologize hoarsely as your friends look on.
“Are you all right?” Jackie asks softly. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have brought him up. We can change the subject.”
“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you sigh, hoping to sound casual, despite the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of a wail. “Really, he’s just…a guy. Just some…stupid…sadistic…evil fucking…guy.”
And while the group across the table snorts their agreement, you see that Harry knows that jab was aimed directly at him.
He winks.
“I, uh…I need to go to the bathroom,” you suddenly declare, grabbing onto his wrist to forcefully shove it away before standing to your feet. “Be right back.”
“Feeling all right?” Harry asks innocently as he watches you push your chair in.
“Just delightful,” you reply before brushing your hands down the front of your dress. “Seriously, keep eating. I won’t be long.”
You leave the table before Harry can make another quippy remark, quickly making your way for the extravagant restroom in the back of the restaurant.
Honestly, you thought you had a little more self-control. You thought it wouldn’t be so easy to get you so on edge, and yet here Harry is, making you clench so hard in your chair, you nearly burst a blood vessel.
You lock the door behind you and make a beeline for the sink. You flip on the cool water and gently trail it down your arms and chest to cool yourself down as you will the ache between your legs to subside.
It’ll be easy to take care of once you get home, but you’re rather impressed with Harry’s commitment to…education.
And something about looking your friends in the eye as he played with your cunt like a toy was oddly invigorating.
Far more invigorating than it ever had been with…Eric.
You’ve no sooner smirked at this thought when your phone begins to buzz from its place on the counter.
Glancing down, you aren’t surprised to see a text from Harry, but it does make you laugh.
How’s it going?
Good. Just getting myself off before I come back, you answer.
Yeah? Texting me while you touch yourself? Hot.
Well, it’s not the first time.
A good minute passes before he responds, and you can easily imagine the way his eyes went wide.
Seriously?
Seriously. Why, is that weird?
Are you fucking kidding? No, it’s…I mean, it’s hot. Very, very hot.
Your brow raises. Yeah?
Kind of rude you never told me, though. Clearly I would have been of great help.
In my defense, I was a little…busy. It’s already hard enough to type with one hand.
And even if you aren’t exactly touching yourself right now…you aren’t lying about having done it before. Not on purpose, of course. He just happened to text you right in the middle of your alone time and needed an answer ASAP.
So…you’d answered.
Yeah? Do you need an extra hand? he replies next, and you chuckle under your breath as you lean against the sink.
Why, do you know someone?
Funny.
Thank you, I thought so.
Is that a yes, then?
I think I’m managing just fine.
Yeah? So you’re pinching your clit nice and tight for me?
You feel your breath hitch. This certainly isn’t helping. Obviously.
And you’re clenching around your fingers for me? How many you using? One? Two? Maybe three? Know you like to feel stretched.
“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you glance off into the bathroom. He’s trying to kill you.
Can’t really clench around anything when I have to keep answering these texts. Go eat your food and leave me to it.
And what kind of student would I be if I did that?
An obedient one.
And does that sound like me?
“Nope,” you respond aloud, but type, You have been so far.
Think I’d be more obedient if I finished what I started.
I mean…maybe if you knew how.
You wait to watch the bubbles roll across your screen, but when they don’t come, your heart sinks.
And then…there’s a knock.
A rather fervent and determined knock that makes you jump as you look toward the door.
“Bee…let me in.”
Shit. “I…uh, I’m a little busy.”
“I know,” comes the deep, sultry reply. “So, let me in.”
“Har—”
“Open the goddamn door, Bee, before I break it down.”
Clearing your throat, you put your phone aside and cautiously tiptoe toward the door.
After sliding the lock over, you pull it back just a hair, and peek through the crack. “Uh, hi. Sorry, this bathroom is a little occupied at the moment—”
His large hand comes out to press against the wood as he forces it open and steps inside. “Are you okay?”
You blink at him before scrambling to push it closed and relock it. “Uh…yeah? Why?”
He strides a bit further into the bathroom before turning around to look at you, almost as if suspicious. “Honestly? I kind of thought you came in here to hide from me.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know.” His arms cross over his chest. “I know you didn’t actually come in here to fuck yourself, so I thought…maybe you just felt uncomfortable.”
“Oh, yeah? And how do you know I didn’t come in here to do that?” you retort.
He smirks. “’Cause you always use both hands. And if you were texting me…you weren’t fucking yourself.”
“And how do you know I use both hands?”
He shrugs. “You told me once.”
Oh…right. “Well…maybe I was multi-tasking.”
“You weren’t,” he rejects immediately. “No, I think you either came in here to hide from me…or because you were upset about what they said. You know, about…him.”
An invisible fist snaps closed around your heart as you stare at the man across from you. The devious intentions and teasing from before are long gone as the man you’ve known for years, your best friend…stands before you.
The concern is evident on his face as you take a step closer. “Har…honestly, I’m fine. I wasn’t hiding from you, and I really don’t care about Eric. I came in here to keep myself from coming all over your fucking hand.”
The corner of his mouth twitches with the temptation to smile, but his gaze remains skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” You nod, taking another step. “Come on, I think it’s a little late to start questioning me now, don’t you?”
He sucks on his teeth. “Well…I can never tell with you.”
“I feel like I made my enjoyment quite clear.”
“I thought so, too. Until you made me stop.”
Now, only inches away from him, you come to a halt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel like explaining why I moaned to our friends, you know?”
His thumb rubs across the skin of his arm as he peers down at you. “Thought that was the whole point of exhibitionism.”
You shrug, eyes falling across his features. “Yeah…or maybe I just wanted to keep you to myself.”
His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You know…like a secret.”
Instantly, he grins, exhaling a laugh at the reminder of the pact you two made when you were younger. “We are good at secrets.”
“The best,” you agree giddily before the laughter dies out, and something seems to shift within his expression.
“Then I think it’s only fair we finish the lesson,” he says quietly, leaning a bit closer as you begin to still. “After all…I still need to show my work.”
Your lashes flutter, the smell of his cologne beginning to overwhelm you. God, why does he always smell so good? “Guess…guess that’s only fair,” you agree faintly, and he seems pleased.
His head dips, nose brushing yours as he works to catch you off guard. “Then tell me what to do, Bee. And I’ll do it.”
It comes out before you can stop it. “Kiss me.”
He’s surprised by this request, going momentarily quiet but you don’t miss the way his focus falls to your lips, as if pondering.
“Kiss me,” you repeat, fingers itching to latch onto the back of his neck. “And this time…do it right.”
He seems impressed as he fights an arrogant smirk. “Right, huh?”
“Yeah.” You straighten up, bringing your mouths a tad closer, but still without contact. “Know you can. Know you know how to be gentle, don’t you?”
And almost as if in retaliation, his hands find your hips, squeezing rather harshly as he begins to back you up toward the wall.
When you collide with it, he grins. “Dunno about that.”
“Try,” you whisper, hands dancing up his chest. “Trust me, you’ll get a lot more points that way. The right kiss can do everything, and I promise…she’ll love it.”
He considers this for a moment, studying you closely before you feel his palm delicately cup your cheek.
He tilts your head back as he moves in, deliberately slow. “Everything, huh?”
You smile, nodding once. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Everything.”
He kisses you.
Soft, and careful, and sadistically tame. He kisses around your mouth, peppers kisses to your bottom lip, to your cheek, to the line of your jaw.
He keeps his tongue from you, and you almost huff because after everything, you think you at least deserve a taste.
And finally, once you’re moments away from wilting in his hands, he takes that taste for himself.
Your head spins and your mind goes blank and everything makes sense.
Because kissing him is fun, and it makes you want to laugh, and kiss him forever, and never leave this one spot.
And you’re so enchanted by this revelation that you don’t notice his hand traveling between your bodies to return to its home between your thighs.
But he slips underneath your dress without a moment's delay, fingers returning to their work of pulling your panties aside to finish what he started. And when you gasp into the kiss…he swallows the sound with ease.
“Is that right, hm?” he teases as he slides in. “That good?”
Your lashes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours, and you don’t offer a response because he already knows.
His precision just about kills you. In, out, in, curl, twist, pinch, pull. You can feel the drip down your thighs, can hear the sounds he’s making, can taste his desperation in each kiss he gives you.
And when you suddenly whine and squirm in his hold, he smiles. “There it is, yeah? Right there…s’what you needed, isn’t it?”
It is. It’s exactly what you’d needed, and he strokes the spot with fervor and just a touch of wonder.
It’s cruel and it’s wonderful and it feels so fucking good, and nothing else makes sense to you except him.
Just him and the way you’re about to come undone by his hand for a second time.
You nuzzle your face into his neck, lazily kissing under his ear, and he seems to sigh with contentment as he braces you both against the wall to continue.
“Come on, Bee…know it’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” he coos, but his voice is thick. “Know it hurts, so give it to me, yeah? Just give it to me. Let me make it better.”
And it overwhelms you, consumes you, controls you. His smell, his touch, his words. The past, the present, him. Just him. Only him. Right now. Everything.
The sound that rips from your throat feels foreign to you. It’s loud and desperate and eager, and he presses his lips to yours to be a part of it.
It goes for what feels like hours, but time doesn’t have a place here. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. You don’t know, you don’t care.
You just…let it.
And you don’t realize the way you’ve slumped into his embrace as he holds you up, keeps you steady.
You don’t realize he’s speaking to you, murmuring words of encouragement with just a hint of teasing.
You don’t realize he’s refusing to let go.
But once you do, you realize something else, too:
You don’t want him to let go.
"Think we might have a problem," he whispers after a moment, lips following the curve of your shoulder as he offers a few parting kisses.
Your head falls back against the wall and you take a few deep breaths. "Yeah? And what's that?"
"Well...you kind of fucked up," he begins as he moves to the other side of your neck, sucking on the vein just below your ear. "You gave me a taste, showed me what I've been missing."
You can feel yourself smile through the haze as his hands continue to grope at your waist.
"I mean, just knowing..." he continues, nosing under your jaw, "...you've been keeping so much knowledge from me...this whole time."
Your laugh is airy as you reach up to comb through his curls. "Is that right?"
He hums as he nods, the palm of his hand slowly smoothing up your stomach, pushing the hem of your dress along with it. "And now I don't know if I can go without. Feel so fucking insatiable...just thinking about what else you might be hiding from me."
With this, his fingers delicately ghost under the curve of your tit, forcing you to arch into his touch as he smirks.
"And what is it...you want to know?" you manage to reply, voice soft and nearly inaudible.
He pulls back and meets your eye.
"Everything."
Shit.
"Everything?" you murmur, subtly tugging him closer.
"Everything," he repeats. "Anything. All of it. You. Me. Us. Every fucking second, every fucking way."
You know what he's proposing. Know exactly what this means, but you don't know if a friendship would survive.
And you don't know which is more important.
"So...what do you expect me to do?" you ask breathlessly, still squirming beneath his hold.
He smiles. "I expect you...to show me."
"Show you," you repeat, as if in a trance.
"Show me," he whispers, moving back in to lick at your bottom lip. "Teach me. How to be better. How to be right. How take care of you. Wanna give you everything you need."
"Everything," you breathe.
"Everything." His other hand gently comes up to cradle the back of your neck. "Whatever you want, whatever you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you. Promise."
But what do you need?
"Are you sure?" you ask, softly pushing on his chest to garner his attention. "It's not like teaching you to play pool, Har. Exploring kinks is...delicate. Sacred. It's not a game."
"I know," he replies, sobering ever-so-slightly. "That's why it can't be anybody else. It has to be you."
It has to be you.
"Why?" you challenge.
He simply offers you a knowing look. "Why wouldn't it be?"
You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking for a reason to say no. Looking for the strength to know better.
But maybe you don't know better.
Maybe you just know him.
"Teach me," he says again, thumb stroking your jaw as those familiar eyes bleed right through to your heart. "Make me better."
Better.
Everything.
Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.
Just him.
"Okay," you agree quietly, and his entire face lights up. "For science."
"For science," he repeats, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek in thanks. "But only if you're sure. I'd never want you to agree just because of me. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
He leans back. Frowns. He's unconvinced. "I mean it, Bee. I'm not asking just because I can. I’m asking because…it feels like something we both want. But if it's not—"
You kiss him again, stealing the rest of his argument. "I know how to say no to you, Harry. Think you should know that by now."
He smiles against your mouth. "Guess so."
For the next minute or so, you don't speak. He simply takes hold of your face with both hands and paints his gratitude across your tongue.
"So...where do you wanna start?" you ask when he finally allows you a second of reprieve.
"You tell me," he reminds you, and you feel yourself smirk.
"All right," you agree before slipping your fingers through the loops on his pants.
His eyes go wide.
Then, you tug.
"Let's start...with everything."
You bet your ass there’s gonna be a part 3, because now that they’ve opened the door…there’s no closing it 😗 and Harry’s got a long list of new kinks to discover! And I’m strangely excited about it?? This is concerning?? Pray for me???
Next Part:
~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)
Previous Part:
~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)
~ Full Teach Me Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
Tags:
@tiaamberxx @harrystylesfan2686
#harry#harry edward styles#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles fan#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry styles request#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles concept#smut#harry styles angst#harry styles best friend#best friend#angst#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfic#harry styles short story#request#harry and bee
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just thinking about carmy x shy reader who used to have the biggest crush on him when they went to school!! and carmy thought she liked mikey !
oh my god i can totally see him and now i can only think of two ghosts by harry styles ahhhh. little fluff blurb ahead for the soul <3
they go to prom together, their senior year just as friends. carmy bc donna is making him, and you... bc carmy asked you out lol. mikey set the whole thing up, he knew how much you likes carm. you were always coming over and following carmen around like a lost puppy. mikey felt bad for you, sorta, felt bad that you were so hopelessly in love with his oblivious younger brother.
carmen moved to new york and you stayed in chicago, only to reconnect years later at none other than mikey's funeral. carmen looked bad, sad and distant, but there was a glimmer of his old self when he talked to you. familiar. good.
it was a challenge, pushing yourself into the life of carmen berzatto again. two old friends catching up over coffee, first. then going to a ghost tour, because mikey used to swear it was the most entertaining shit (swore he'd see uncle jimmy on there eventually too lol). you'd help him at the beef when he'd call, helplessly needing assistance fixing some odd appliance. he'd make you greasy italian sandwiches and you'd spilt them sitting at the sticky booths, reminiscing.
it wasn't until weeks later, when things started to take a turn for the best. when carmen realized that "oh shit she's like into me into me???" he'd kissed you that night, in your apartment living room. it was rushed and a little sloppy. he'd blushed so hard after that, stammering and nervous in the low light of the room. you'd only grinned, pulling him back in.
"i- fuck- i didn't want to-to come across like that. i just... i'm sorry. i don't know why i... it felt- i don't know, i'm sorry." carmen is a stuttering mess, feeling his heart rate rise and like he might throw up at any given second.
"why are you sorry? i liked it, carmy, c'mon." you just give him a sideways, lopsided grin.
"what? are you- are you fuckin' with me right now? don't... you liked it?"
"of course i liked it. sophomore me is shitting herself right now."
"in a good way?"
you laugh, nodding. "in a very good way. c'mon, bear, don't fuck with me right now." you glare at him playfully. "you don't have to act like you didn't know i was in love with you."
"what?" carmen's eyes bulging tells you otherwise. "you-you... no, you didn't like me. you liked mikey."
"mikey?" you repeat. "carmen... i liked mikey because, i mean he was mikey, everyone liked mikey. but i had a crush on you."
carmen wasn't sure what to say, heart pounding hard in his throat, strangling the words. "really?"
you nodded, grinning gently. "i mean, you were too obsessed with claire bear to notice-"
"-oh, c'mon. don't do that." carmen cringed shaking his head.
"you did!" you laughed, jabbing his chest lightly. "you'd always talk to her in math and sketch all those pictures." you tried not to sound as hurt as your fifteen year old self had been. how you'd cried into your pillow when you found them. how you tried to make yourself look just like claire, act like her too so maybe carmen might notice you.
carmen blushed, looking down at his shoes. "well, i, uh... if it makes you feel any better. i-i was drawin' you too, ya know." he couldn't look at you, blushing positively boyishly at the admission.
it was silly. so silly and so sweet and it shouldn't have made you feel the way you did, but it did. you kissed him, two hands on the side of his cheeks, tumbling back on the sofa with him. a long, overdue kiss.
the next day, carmen asked you to come by the beef, telling you there was something that got dropped off for you while trying to figure out bills.
you opened the envelope to find a faded, crumpled piece of notebook paper, the light etchings of you on it with the algebra homework from mr. weir's junior year class.
#thebearer#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#bearblahs#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto fic#the beef#mikey berzatto#michael berzatto#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x you#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto x female!reader#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fluff#the bear fx
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Upon request, today we have the fourth part to our enemies to lovers rec list! You can also find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists and would like us to continue making them, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word! Happy reading.
1) Say My Name And Everything Just Stops | Explicit | 5,089 words
Harry and Louis are enemies and their friends leave them behind on a camping trip to sort out their differences. In a short amount of time, they do.
2) It’s Hard To Fight Naked | Explicit | 11,189 words
Prompt 6: Louis and Harry are roommates, but they cannot stand each other. When Harry heard Louis moan his name while Louis was riding a dildo in Harry’s room (Louis thought he was alone at home), Harry couldn’t stop himself and so he ended up fucking Louis against the mattress. Happy ending!
3) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18,088 words
Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.
One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.
Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.
Three: They do not get along.
So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.
4) Uncomfortable Truths | Explicit | 18,125 words
Louis (a sophisticated asshole with a god complex, according to Zayn) is confident, bored out of his mind and in a desperate need of a challenge. Harry moves back to the city, ready to provide him one.
Things go sideways. Obviously.
5) Angel Of Small Death And The Murder Scene | Explicit | 20,634 words
Ever since Louis read about the new up and coming Detective in town, he had immediately disliked the man, despite never having met him. So, naturally, it can only be the worst thing that could have happened to Louis when he gets stuck with Detective Styles trying to solve a murder during his supposed to be relaxing vacation over the seas.
6) Manners And Misjudgements | Explicit | 21,178 words
“Everyone you mention the Duke to raves about him, just like you are defending him now. But no one looks behind the façade he so ably maintains to deceive you all.”
Liam sighs deeply. “You sound like a crazy man right now, Louis.”
“I will prove to you who the Duke really is, just wait.”
7) Help Me, Help You Find Love | Explicit | 23,789 words
The one where they all attend a university for supernaturals and Werewolf Frat president and resident heartthrob Harry approaches on campus matchmaker Louis to help him find love.
8) Strong Enough To Get Us Wrong | Explicit | 24,289 words
Omega Louis have always considered the soulmate etching on his left thigh to be a curse. It takes a world tour, the bustling city of Tokyo, a hike to see Mt. Fuji, some hidden feelings, sea urchin sushi and the alpha he hates most in the world to change him.
9) Like It’s A Game | Explicit | 32,223 words | Sequel
There is little Harry hates more than truth or dare.
And Louis.
10) Spoonful Of Sugar | Explicit | 42,900 words
Note: We'd recommend reading the prequel to this fic first.
Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.
11) From Dust To Lust | Explicit | 45,437 words
From the moment Louis set eyes on the gorgeous stranger across the airport terminal, he knew the guy was trouble, which was the last thing he wanted. He wouldn’t have thought spending two days cooped up in a car travelling from the Australian Outback to the East Coast would change his mind.
It’s funny how things work out.
12) Catch Me If I Fall | Explicit | 47,099 words
Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.
13) Hold Me How the Deep Night Has | Explicit | 48,018 words
Louis Tomlinson needs a change. Stuck in a cycle of going to the job he hates, spending time with his friends, and avoiding the one man he hates most in this world, Louis' in desperate need of something new. So when he discovers an abandoned notebook on the way to work, the decision is easy to take it for himself and begin a journal amidst the empty pages. What can't be expected are the words that appear overnight directly beside his own, written on the same day 400 years in the past. What are the consequences of a magical connection between two men of different centuries? And who, among it all, is the mysterious E who only exists on the other side of Louis' journal?
14) Falling Without Caution | Explicit | 50,350 words
Louis Tomlinson, a wanted criminal, was captured by the FBI after years of chasing. Instead of being locked up in a high-security prison, he was offered a deal. What was supposed to be the end of a decade long chase turned into a morally grey circumstance for Agent Styles.
15) A Place With Skeletons | Explicit | 50,765 words
“I would choose anyone other than you,” Louis says, picking up his train of thought again. He feels a lot more cornered and defensive when they’re in Harry’s house, for some reason. It doesn’t really make sense, considering that this time, Louis was the one who couldn’t hack it any longer. He broke first. There’s something about being in Harry’s space, though, the green and earthy feeling of it. It should feel like open space with all the plants, but Louis has never felt more claustrophobic than he does when he’s here.
Harry’s chest moves against his back, a sharp intake of air. Before he can open his mouth to defend himself, Louis keeps going, “If I had a choice in any of this, I would have been saved by that elderly security guard over you. I wouldn’t mind having to have the occasional cuddle with her.”
16) We Are But Dust and Shadows | Explicit | 51,468 words
Louis is part of a well respected Shadowhunter family, and Harry is the Mundane turned Shadowhunter who just can’t seem to get it right.
17) Lunar Waltz | Explicit | 56,795 words
Louis has to replace his (missing) twin brother and marry one of the most dangerous alphas of the kingdom.
18) The Luna of Which Pack? | Mature | 72,696 words
When Harry's wolves accidentally kidnap the intended Luna of Simon Cowell's pack, he must decide what to do with the irritating omega that does not want to return home. With the elders disagreeing with the new ‘naive’ pack alpha Styles, a war erupts due to his opposed decisions. And Louis finds himself right in the middle of it.
19) Echoes & Omens | Mature | 100,707 words
Echoes of the dead come in many forms. Their imprints forever tied to the ones who'd killed them.
Louis Tomlinson is able to track the dead using their echoes, they call to him. He's used that gift to aid Scotland Yard in their investigations, with the hopes of studying Criminology at Cambridge University. He's lived a life of privilege and good fortune as a Marquess, son of the late Duke Tomlinson, with his life mapped out since day one.
Until two terrible truths are revealed.
One, he's adopted.
Two, his biological parents are London's most notorious serial killers.
Against his family's wishes, Louis travels to Chicago to uncover the truth of their incarceration. Much to his dismay, his biological mother's Lawyer, Harry Styles, wants to take his case. Together, they work to uncover what really happened all those years ago, but perhaps more is revealed than they could've ever anticipated. Trapped in a whirlwind of portents and omens, Louis and Harry find themselves pitted against an enemy they'd not foreseen.
20) Where I Burn To Be | Explicit | 143,346 words
There were very few people who managed to get under Louis’ skin as effortlessly as Harry had, and even fewer who had done it in only a day and a half. It was quite an accomplishment, really. They’d only interacted a handful of times and yet Louis had the insatiable desire to slam the locker into that frustratingly well-defined face that never seemed to hold any expressions other than contempt and arrogance.
“That’s right. I do own the skies. And you wanna know why?” he sneered. Without his boots on, Louis was a fair bit shorter than Harry, his eyes pretty much level with Harry’s chin and his socked toes bumping into the boots of the other man, close enough that Louis could make out the tiny scar on Harry’s brow and the individual shades of emerald in his irises. He was handsome, but that only made Louis hate him more. Heart thumping heavily against his sternum and his hands balled into fists, Louis lifted his chin defiantly and plastered a coldhearted smirk across his lips. “Because I’m the best goddamn pilot here.”
Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.
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it's just us — boo seungkwan | 1,672 words | fluff, hurt/comfort
uri boo :) title comes from his lovely cover of as it was by harry styles. sometimes you need to realize that there are people who actually want to listen to what you want to say, as i learned the hard way. also, seungkwan 💞
gender neutral reader. warnings: none.
seungkwan's hands are almost trembling when he slots the key into the lock of his door. they are trembling, but he doesn't want to let himself believe it. because if he does, he's going to have to acknowledge the fact that he can't get through tonight without seeing you in some way or the other. he doesn't want you worrying over him because he always wants to be taking care of you, not the other way round.
with a deep inhale, he opens the door of his house and prepares to spend another lonely night by himself. maybe you'll be free just long enough to talk to him on video call for a while. that has to suffice till you get back.
seungkwan doesn't expect to see the lights on, or smell something delicious on the stove.
he doesn't even have the time to worry about an intruder in his house because you walk out into the living room from his bedroom, towelling your hair dry. you're supposed to be in paris, for work. you're not supposed to be here, in his place, looking like everything he needs right now.
"hey, kwannie," you say, dropping the towel on the back of a chair and making your way to him. "i know this is sudden, but we wrapped up the conference earlier than expected. i thought i'd come here and stay the night. i hoped you wouldn't mind."
of course it's okay. it's more than okay. but seungkwan can't believe you chose to come to his place after what must have been a tiring week. he doesn't trust himself to speak, but you're still speaking.
"...something for you, i hope you like...kwannie? you okay?"
you're there when he takes shaky steps forward, unsure of what to do with himself. he wants to hug you, kiss your face a million times till you push him away with a laugh, wrap you in his arms and just exist with you, breathing in and out.
instead all he does is kick off his shoes and collapse on the couch. he doesn't want to talk about it. can't, not when you've come back to him after a week away. surely you don't want to listen to why his day was bad. you've even made dinner, for crying out loud.
"kwannie?"
"i'm fine," he says. he thinks you know how untrue it is.
"anything i can do for you?"
"no." he wants to be held by you, but he's scared the facade he's put up is going to come crashing down the moment he's in your arms.
"you sure? are you hungry? do you want me to pick your favourite movie with dinner? run you a bath?"
"i said no."
"but—"
"please, can you not?" he snaps. he doesn't mean to. he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, given that they do little to dispel the burden in his chest. and now he's ended up hurting you, too.
you say nothing, simply walking away to the kitchen. fuck, seungkwan thinks. he shouldn't have said a word. he's wanted you all day long, and he's so lucky you're here, but the first thing he's done is snap at you?
he sinks sideways to hide from you, and before he knows it, there's tears streaming down his face. he's been holding them in for long enough that they don't stop even when you come out of the kitchen, sitting next to him and resting a hand on his thigh.
"kwan," you say softly. "come here?"
seungkwan lets himself be pulled into your embrace, his head resting on your chest while your arms pull him closer. he wants to sink into you forever.
"is this okay?" you ask, pushing his hair from his face. he can finally see you clearly. you don't look upset, or annoyed, or anything he feared you'd be.
"yeah."
one of your hands comes up to wipe the tears from his face. "bad day?"
he nods. "i'm sorry i—"
"shh. i know. want to talk about it?"
"not now."
"that's okay. do you want to hear about my day instead?"
that's what seungkwan loves about you — you always manage to find a solution. whether it's working out what to do when the lights go out, or when you run out of something you should have bought from the supermarket last week, you're level-headed, and he really needs that right now.
he settles himself more comfortably in your embrace, blinking out the rest of his tears while your fingers catch them and wipe them off, your hands still around him.
he listens to you talk about the weather in paris, your weird colleague who wouldn't stop singing during the board meeting, the food you had — it's all mundane stuff, but it helps to ground him. you're here for the night, and you're not going anywhere.
"i missed you every single day there," you sigh, your chin resting on his head. he can feel the slight drip of water from your hair, but he doesn't mind. "every time i took a picture i thought of you."
"really?" he asks, rhetorically.
"yeah. maybe we should go to paris the next time you're free. there's so many things i think you'd like. also, i got you some croissants, but they're probably rock solid by now," you say with a grimace. "maybe the oven can help."
"maybe."
there's silence for a while before you murmur his name in a questioning tone. seungkwan buries himself just a bit more into you, not wanting to have the conversation he knows is inevitable.
"i'm not...asking you to tell me what happened, but i want you to know you can, okay? you're always there to listen to me and it's kind of unfair if i can't be the same person for you."
seungkwan breaks a bit at that. you're not pushy; you just want him to be fine. he's anything but a hypocrite. he thinks of all the times he opens his arms to you, wanting to listen to everything that's bothering you till you feel better. so he shouldn't shy away from being like that with you, right?
"do you really want to hear me talk about...stuff?"
"yes." to emphasize your point, you push your leg under his and curl it towards yourself, effectively trapping him in place on top you. "i'll not let you go."
he feels a giggle come up. "then don't."
and you don't. you reach for the throw near the armrest of the sofa and drape it over the two of you. it's like time stops for seungkwan — all he's aware of is you underneath him, your breath even. he tries to match your breathing.
"have you been sleeping well?"
seungkwan could lie, say that he has, but he thinks you know the answer. "no," he says, refusing to look at you. "missed you."
you sigh, running your hand through his hair. "kwannie, you have to. you know i can't always be with you, right?"
"then move in with me," he says, before he can fully think about it. "i'm sorry, i didn't think—"
"i'd love to," you say, pressing a kiss to his head. "but i want you to say it with a clear mind, okay? i don't want this to feel like you're forced."
"i'm not...i want you to move in. but not right now."
"ask me again later?"
it's not the first time seungkwan marvels at how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. you're his, and while he's gotten used to the permanency of you in his life, topics like moving in and getting married are still there on the far horizon. he hadn't given them much thought until now, but he can see them happening with you.
he finds his words. "i will. it's just...i'm tired. i'm out there all the time, you know? always working. sometimes i feel like i work too hard to get people to really see me."
"you wish you didn't have such an active role sometimes?"
"yeah. i just want to take a break, but i can't. sometimes i feel nothing i ever do will be enough."
you don't say anything, simply rubbing his back. he feels better already, letting it out, because he knows what he's saying isn't really true — it's just that one part of him that keeps popping up from time to time.
"you know it's not true, right?" you ask when he shifts. "you've done so much you should be proud of yourself for. hell, i'm so proud of you every single day. and the fact that you're my boyfriend is possibly one of the best things that's ever happened to me. you've made me realize there's so many things i can improve about myself, and i can't thank you enough for that, kwannie. if your day's been bad you should know i'm always here for you, even if it's through a phone. i love you. always."
seungkwan nods. i love you, he means to say. thank you for everything. he presses a kiss to your neck, and then another, revelling in the warmth of your skin. you understand his silent words, like he hoped, pulling him closer. you rest like that till your stomach grumbles, which is when you push him away embarrassedly and sit up.
"let me plate dinner," seungkwan says, glad to find his voice is steady. he gets up, but you catch his hand before he leaves.
"i know you have work tomorrow, but when you're done, do you want to come to my place so we can spend the weekend together? we don't have to do anything. just...live. for two days. forget everything outside. maybe actually talk about moving in together."
he feels a smile come up. "i'd...really like that."
he knows it doesn't get easy in just a blink of an eye, but the weight on his shoulders is always less when he's with you.
#i love him :(#boo seungkwan#boo seungkwan fluff#seventeen#seventeen fluff#svt#svt fluff#seungkwan#fluff#waldau writes
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9, 15, 47 🤍
god fucking bless ilysm ty
9: which do I prefer, cotton candy or funnel cake? I don’t think I’ve ever had funnel cake??? so i’ll go w cotton candy but i haven’t had it in yeeaaarrrss
15: what’s the weirdest thing that happened to me? god. okay. it’s time for the 19th bday story. SO…. slight cw for dr*g mention but it won’t be graphic (and i’ve been clean from this specific stuff for years and from everything for a lil over 8 months 🫶) when i was a teen my main friend group went thru my 1d phase w me and for my 19th bday we all dropped acid and listened to 1d while vibing out but long story short things went sideways for me (i’m still not totally sure why) and despite having never hallucinated before, i thought all my friends were the members of 1d trying to Get At Me and shit got scary but ! i have since repaired the trauma this caused w myself and all those friends, and my main bestie from that group is now a dj in berlin and she dj’d my 24th bday party over zoom (bc covid) and without telling me she sent everyone harry styles masks and they all pulled em out when she slid a harry song into her mix and i nearly pissed myself laughing. it was so funny and cathartic and a very full circle moment that healed that strange time in my life tbh so….. Yeah. That Happened
47: book stores or record stores? oof, tough call. I like chilling out in bookstores more bc I feel like Constantly Judged by the employees at the record stores I’ve been to but I do love listening to the random shit they play in record stores and finding old gems I’d forgotten about so… let’s say it depends on the mood?
asks to help me ignore life <3
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He’s killing me
#sexyasfuck#sexyandheknowsit#i love him#harry styles is perfect#harry edward styles#but he looks fucking hot#fuck me sideways#i fucking love him
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SAFE AND SOUND
a/n: this one took a little longer to write, but im so happy its finally finished! its not what i originally planned, i started a whole different plot but hated it so started again, but i might go back to the first story, so maybe more bodyguard!harry content is gonna come! anyway, hope you’ll enjoy this one!
pairing: Bodyguard!Harry X Reader
warning: use of weapon (no one dies), mentioning of cancer (no one is sick), sexual content
word count: 9.1k
masterlist
“This is not up for discussion, Y/N. What you are doing and what you are about to achieve soon might upset a lot of people that hold great power. We can’t just assume you’ll be fine, walking around like anyone else in the world.”
Your boss, Julian explains it to you, leaning onto his desk, trying his best to keep his cool about your protest to get you a guard to watch out for you and keep you safe. It’s been an ongoing struggle and fight you two have been having these past weeks and it became a burning situation since you’ve made some major progress in your project.
“I’m not some kind of royalty to have security with me all the time,” you grumble rolling your eyes.
“Not just royalties have guards, Y/N. Just accept it, that you’re valuable, your work is very important not just to our company but to the whole world. Do you not realize how big it is? You are close to having the cure to cancer, Y/N! You can easily get a Nobel-prize for that!”
“I know that it’s important, but no one knows me, no one will see me on the street and know who I am or what I do!”
“It’s not about the people on the street. The world is a dark place, darker than you could imagine. Please, just… I want to know that you’re safe.”
Staring back at him with your arms folded on your chest you contemplate his words. You can see the rationality in his words, it’s just that you don’t want to break your routine, you don’t want people around you all the time, you don’t want to end your privacy like that. But Julian is right, your work is important and there have already been a few attempts to steal your researches, but they miserably failed. However that doesn’t mean they will be stopped the next time as well.
“One guard,” you speak up. “Just one. I’m not gonna have a whole fucking team,” you tell him raising your eyebrows. He lets out a relieved sigh, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Reaching out to the phone he presses the buzzer that signals to his assistant, Monica outside and a few moments later she walks in, accompanied with a tall, suited man, his green eyes immediately falling to you upon entering the room.
“Y/N, I took the courage to pick him out for you myself. This is Harry Styles, the best you can find in the city if not in the country,” Julian introduces him as he pushes himself away from his giant mahogany desk, walking closer to the man as they shake hands firmly. You stand up from the armchair you’ve been sinking into these past ten minutes and unsurely hold out your hand to the man.
“Harry Styles, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces himself, a thick British accent lacing through his voice and the way his green irises stare back at you, you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. Mr. Styles is undeniably the most charming and handsome man you’ve ever met, with his perfectly carved cheekbones and chiseled jawline, pink lips and those enchanting green eyes framed by his thick lashes. There’s something in his appearance, something feminine, but still, he holds so much masculinity at the same time, it’s hard not to be enamored by him.
“Y/N Y/L/N,” you mumble your name, shaking his hand slightly before letting go of it.
“Details about your cooperation have already been discussed with the security agency and us, but of course, your word is what counts, so we’ll walk over the whole plan with you as well,” Julian explains to you and you nod shortly.
The three of you move to the conference room and the next hour goes by with working those so called details out, some of them are ridiculous, some of them you can get used to, at the end you are left with a somewhat bearable plan, but one thing is for sure. Harry Styles will be a big part of your life from now on.
THREE MONTHS LATER
The tiny pack of sugar tears open in your hands, but you put too much effort into it so the countertop is now covered with the content of the pack instead of ending up in your paper cup.
“Fuck,” you growl, dumping the empty pack into the trash before grabbing another one, hoping it won’t end up the same way.
“Let me help you,” a smooth, male voice speaks up next to you and Harry grabs the pack from your hands as he places his own coffee to the counter. You let him tear the pack open easily, pouring the sugar into your drink without problem before he puts the lid back to your cup.
“Thank you,” you mumble, closing your tired eyes for a split second. You’ve been overworking way too much these past weeks, it’s starting to shut your system down, but you don’t want to rest, not when you’re so close to finishing your project.
The past two weeks have been major, you finally made the progress you’ve been working towards for months now, letting you step into the last phase of your work finally. But it’s been a quite stressful time as you’ve been eager to finish as soon as possible, but that meant little to no time spent outside of your lab.
Harry shoots you a reassuring smile before you both grab your drinks and head out of the café in the direction of your workplace.
The past three months were one hell of a ride when it comes to Harry. You didn’t hide your dislike towards his continuous presence in your life, standing by your side wherever you went. It frustrated you, made you feel like you didn’t have your freedom any longer even though he never did anything to make you hate him. He was considerate, respectful and only wanted to do his job, yet you still gave him a hard time at the beginning, right until the need for his work was proved.
Two months ago someone broke into your apartment while you were out, they searched through the whole place, looking for something. Well, not just something, they were clearly interested in anything connected to your research, but luckily, you’re not dumb enough to just let these stuff lay around your home.
Even though you didn’t encounter the person responsible for it, the incident still shook your up. Knowing that someone could get into your personal space so easily, that they could have come at a time when you were home and vulnerable, it scared you. Harry was the person that eased the worry and fear in you, he took care of everything in an instant and upon his best advice, you moved to a new apartment with a higher security level. He even moved to the place next to yours so he could be as close to you as possible at all times. There was a much needed shift in your relationship after that and you didn’t see him as an intruder any longer in your life, but more as a hero.
“So would you like Italian or Mexican tonight for dinner?” Harry asks as the two of you enter the building, using your IDs you go through the massive security gates, the guards in post nodding in your way.
“Isn’t it your night to choose?” you smile at him sideways as you wait for the elevator.
“Okay, then Thai,” he smirks, making you laugh. “Hope you are not planning on eating it here again,” he gives you a warning look and you purse your lips.
“I have a lot to do, and—“
“Y/N, you need to rest sometimes,” he scolds you as if you were just a child.
“I do rest. Sometimes,” you answer with an innocent look as the elevator’s door slides open and you walk in with Harry following you right behind.
“Like once a week? Do you even sleep when you’re at home?”
“I do! Don’t make me look like I’m some kind of crazy workaholic!”
“I’m just worried about you, is all,” he sighs, giving you a hard look.
“Oh, Mr. Styles. If I didn’t know you better I would think you might have a soft spot for me,” you smirk at him teasingly before the elevator arrives to your floor and you walk out without a word. Harry just stares after you with a small smile tugging on his lips as he thinks about your words. It’s funny, especially because you both know something more than just a professional relationship has been going on between the two of you, only dancing around it as the situation is a little too complicated to address now.
It’s not like any rules are tying you down, but you would rather not mix up work with your private life. You might have feelings for Harry, but you refuse to act up on them until he is out of his duty as your personal guard.
Your days are usually the same. While you lock yourself up in your lab, working with no end, Harry stay either with you in there or he hovers around the door, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. Just the thought of his presence never fails to bring you a sense of comfort, knowing that you don’t have to worry about your safety until he is near. It might seem nerdy, but you can easily get lost in your work. It doesn’t feel like a job, growing up with parents who were excellent doctors and pharmacists themselves, you were doomed to be a science enthusiast yourself from the beginning. Learning has never been a task for you but a gift, as you liked to look at it.
Working overtime happens often because you lose touch with time easily once you get down to work. Nothing exists outside of your lab and you hardly realize how late it is until Harry usually warns you.
“I didn’t joke when I said I didn’t want to have dinner in here,” he steps into your sanctuary while you’re in the middle of running tests for the millionth time today. Pushing your glasses up to the top of your head while the machines are buzzing and whirling, you look up at him with a tired smile.
“Let me just… finish this one last test and then I promise we’ll head out.”
“Alright, but I’m watching you. No more tests,” he warns, sitting on one of the stools while you finish what you started.
Harry never really asked you about your work, for a while you weren’t even sure if he knows what you’re doing and why it’s so important. It was never discussed at the beginning and he never brought it up later either. But judging from the time he spends near you at the lab he must have picked up a few things about it surely.
The machines stop working and the tiny beeping sound signals that the results are out. You grab the long printed paper and start scanning the data, chewing on your bottom lip as you hope to find what you’ve been looking for all day. The numbers are coming in great, but it’s been like this for a while, it’s the end that never matches up with your expectations. So when you get there and see the graphs showing the result that you’ve been dreaming of since the start of the whole project years ago, your mouth falls open in disbelief even though it’s what you’ve been working for all this time.
“Oh my God,” you whisper.
“What?” Harry’s head snaps up in alert, jumping off the stool.
“I… I did it,” you breathe out, glancing up from the paper. “It’s my first time succeeding, Harry!” you start laughing, the shock taking over your whole body that you really did it this time.
“And what does that mean?”
“Come on, let me show you,” you tell him in excitement, pulling him over to the computer where you pull up all the data you’ve been working on. A virtual version of a cell comes up on the screen as you start typing, modelling what you want to show him. “This is a completely healthy cell, it’s what you are made of too, mostly,” you ass with a chuckle before another cell comes up on the screen. “And this is what cells that are affected by cancer look like.”
The difference is a lot more complicated than what you can explain to him in such a short time, but he can see it with his own eyes. The color, the shape, everything is different from the first one. Harry examines the screen and nods shortly, letting you know that he is following.
“I’ve been working on a substance that is able to not just detect the cancerous cells but it can also kill it effectively without hurting the healthy ones.”
You bring up the virtualized version of the substance you’ve been working on, a short animation showing how it can tell the two cells apart and only attack the cancerous one.
“I haven’t been able to get the numbers above 60% when it comes to succeeding in the process of selection so my whole project was about finding a solution to that. I’ve been trying to find the right substance to mix with our already existing one to solve the problem, but I haven’t been successful in it.”
“I assume until now,” Harry hum and you nod smirking.
“Yeah. The last test results came back very good, quite promising. It’s still not the end of the process, but it’s a huge step.”
“That’s great,” he smiles at you and though you know he probably understands just a fracture of the whole process, he can still figure out how important it is. “Congrats, Y/N.”
“Thanks,” you breathe out, pride filling your chest as you shut the computer off. “I guess this is my cue to end the day,” you smile at him before packing up everything, getting ready to finally leave.
It’s not the first time Harry is spending the evening at your place. You often have dinner together, or watch a movie whenever you get home early enough to do that. Through the time you’ve spent together because of his job you’ve grown to be friends above everything. Good ones, in fact, which is a big deal for you since making friends has never been an easy task for you.
You bought takeout on the way home and as Harry set the table you poured yourself a glass of wine, knowing well Harry would never drink when he is on duty and he is basically working all the time he is with you, so you’re drinking alone. You both sit to the dining table, starting dinner together in a comfortable silence. It’s another thing you appreciate about Harry. He doesn’t try to talk when it’s not necessary, you hate small talk, you’d rather sit in silence than talk about something nonsense and Harry is a partner in that.
“When do you need to leave work tomorrow to get to the party on time?” he asks breaking the silence and you freeze. His eyes fall on you, examining your features for a moment before he smirks. “You forgot about it?”
“I just… thought it’s going to be next week,” you truthfully admit.
“We talked about it last week,” he smirks at you playfully. “And I told you it would be next week which is… this week.”
“I know how the days work, Harry,” you give him a look of ‘give me a break’ before you turn back to your food. “I just…”
“You just forgot it,” Harry finishes for you, and you just roll your eyes at him.
Glancing at him over the table you wonder if he’ll wear something different than is usual attire he always wears. Black suit with a white shirt underneath, the top two buttons left undone, giving you a tiny peek at the tattoos on his chest. You know those are not the only ones, you’ve seen him with the suit jacket off before, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his whole left arm is covered in ink and you wish you’ve had the chance to take a better look at them.
Harry is such an intriguing person in a lot of different ways. He definitely likes to keep things to himself, not one to ask for attention and it’s not just because of his work, it’s his personality. However he is good with people, interacting with them, being social. A skill you haven’t really mastered yourself yet and you probably never will. He always seems to know what to say, you’ve never seen him even the slightest bit anxious or nervous before, the confidence he holds is unmatched and it makes it hard to not think about him in ways you shouldn’t be.
After dinner he helps you clean up, just like he always does before heading out, but before he could leave he stops and turns back to face you.
“Oh, a friend of mine is visiting from the UK on Sunday. I already mentioned it to you before, but I was hoping I could get the afternoon off,” he wonders and you nod right away.
“Of course! I’ll be just fine at home,” you smile at him.
“Thank you,” he smiles back before walking out of your place at last.
Because of the party in the evening you are forced to stop working early the next day. It’s weird to leave the office in broad daylight, but you know today can’t be one of those days when you end up seeing the new day in the lab.
Harry was right yesterday, you completely forgot the whole party thing, meaning you didn’t plan anything ahead and you had nothing to wear, so through the day you called your sister, Mara to help you out. She was more than happy to lend you anything you needed. She meets you at the office, beaming to spend some time with you finally. It’s not that you don’t like her company, but you are quite different, is all. Your sister didn’t get sucked into the world of science, though she definitely has the bright mind to take up on any field she would want to explore. But she was more into the world of art, having written her first fantasy novel at the ripe age of twenty, she is now a bestseller author at only twenty-nine with a bubbly personality and basically every trait you never owned yourself.
“Harry! So nice to see you again!” Mara beams at the man as the three of you meet up at the lobby.
“Hi, Mara,” Harry smiles with a tiny nod.
“Alright, I have everything you could need so let’s head to yours!” your sister cheers before you make your way out to your cars.
Arriving to your home Harry splits from the two of you, letting you to get ready in peace and also to get ready himself. Mara didn’t joke when she said she has everything you need, the trunk of her car is basically filled with clothes and shoes, there’s no chance you won’t find something to wear tonight.
She orders you to take a quick shower as she unpacks everything she brought and when you emit from a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around your body and one on your head, Mara gets down to work.
“So do you have a date for today?” she curiously asks while she does your makeup.
“Huh, yeah, sure,” you huff ironically. “It’s just gonna be Harry and me.”
“So Harry is your date?” her ears perk up, but you’re quick to protest.
“Of course not! He comes with me everywhere,” you mumble with your eyes closed as she is doing something on your eyelids.
“But it could be a date,” she offers and you huff in disagreement.
“You know that’s not how it works, Mara.”
“You are making it more complicated than it is! No one would blame you if you just… went for it! Harry is obviously an attractive guy.”
“Then maybe you should date him,” you bite back bitterly. Growing up you weren’t the boys’ favorite, they always paid all the attention to your sister. It’s not that you blame her or them, she always had a more capturing and lively personality that attracted people naturally. But it made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, spending all your time with your nose buried in a book or doing researches for fun while Mara was out with her friends, living her best life. Even her published books were inspired by her personal life experiences.
“Y/N,” she sighs, her hands leaving your face so you open your eyes to look at her disapproving expression. “You obviously like him so I would never do that and besides that, he for sure likes you too.”
“What’s not true,” you deny right away, but then you look at her curiously. “But why would you think that?”
Mara smirks at you tilting her head to the side, seeing right through your act that you’re not interested in Harry. Of course you are, but you choose to keep it at bay for the sake of his job.
“Y/N, I see how that man watches every move you make. It’s written all over his handsome face.”
“Of course he watches my every move, that’s his job!”
“No, it’s different. You’ll see it sooner or later,” she smiles before ordering you to close your eyes again so she can finish your makeup.
Mara does wonders to your looks, the makeup look she does on you already makes a huge difference since you don’t bother to do anything on your every days. But she didn’t stop there, she made your hair look like you just stepped off of the pages of a magazine and the dress the two of you chose was the cherry on the top. The emerald green dress was tight around your curves, showing just enough of your body to be still considered modest, but also have some spice. And though there are a lot of advantages of the dress, your first and most important thought (to you at least) was how well it goes with the color of Harry’s eyes.
“I’m a genius,” Mara sighs satisfied with her work as you slip on the pair of nude heels and put your necessities into the little clutch you’re taking with you. Just when you’re gone with everything, the doorbell rings and your heart jumps in your chest, knowing that Harry is standing on the other side of the door.
“I’ll get it for you,” Mara smiles rushing to the door as you walk into the hallway, standing a few feet behind her so as she opens the front door and Harry comes into view, over Mara’s shoulder his eyes easily find your figure standing there, feeling a little awkward and self-conscious, like you are about to go to prom with your crush. Difference is that you are not a teenager anymore and you aren’t going anywhere together together. Tonight is just work for him.
But as his bright green eyes fall on your frame and you see his lips slightly part, you can’t help but allow yourself to think for a moment that it’s more than just work. That he feels the same way about it as you do. Though you don’t voice your hopes and just smile at him faintly, hoping you don’t look completely ridiculous in your outfit.
“Harry, come on in!” Mara invites him into the apartment and he walks in, wearing his usual black suit with the difference of having a tie on around his neck, his white shirt is appearing neat and crispy and his sometimes unruly curls are now gently combed back a little so his curls are not falling into his forehead.
“Hi,” you smile at him nervously fumbling with your clutch as he takes a few steps closer to you.
“Hi. You look… beautiful,” he smiles back at you a little breathlessly as he takes a respectful look down your body before his green irises meet your gaze again.
“Thank you. You look great too,” you chuckle softly. “Should we… head out?”
“Yeah, sure!” he nods, offering you his arm and you link your arm with his instantly, hoping you won’t trip in your heels. “Lock the door when you leave, Mara, alright?” you call out to your sister who is watching you smiling.
“Sure! Have fun!”
You wave at her one last time before walking out and shutting the door closed behind you.
This party is held every year at Pharma-Z, mostly this is the time when the brain meets the money. Investors and funders like to meet the people behind the million dollars researches from time to time and this is the occasion where both sides show up. Julian always asks you to be social and try to mingle, but the whole thing feels forced and painful for you. You’d rather just be left alone with your researches and projects without having to schmooze to the people who give you the money for your hard work.
It’s held at one of said investors’ luxurious penthouse, that doesn’t even look like someone’s home with the huge outdoors infinity pool, the spacious and modern interiors and the expensive looking decoration that was put up just for the occasion.
“Y/N! I’m so happy you are here!” Julian approaches you with a drink in his hands and you’re happy to see a familiar face in the crowd. You don’t really know others from work, only your little team you directly work with and of course, your boss, Julian.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” you chuckle giving him a short, friendly hug. Julian is far from a nightmare of a boss some people have to face at their job. He is an actually nice and very smart and intellectual person. The pharmaceutical industry can be harsh and dark, the competition between the businesses is way more intent than people think. This is why you need the protection. Some companies profit off of the fact that cancer has no cure yet. They make money from all the treatments that doesn’t even guarantee full recovery. A lot of big fish don’t want the cure, because that would make them lose a good chunk of their income and some of those would even go to the depth of hurting you for being so close to ruining their business with your invention. Pharma-Z is luckily a genuine company that wants to help sick people and that’s why you’re working there.
“You know how important it is for the company,” Julian sighs, but he understands how uncomfortable these events make you feel, though he can do nothing to help you. “Harry, nice to see you again,” he smiles at the man by your side.
“Julian, nice to see you too,” he nods, shaking hands with your boss.
“Mingle a little so people can see and meet you, alright?” Julian requests and you just nod silently before he moves on to the next group of people.
You get yourself a drink to ease your nerves a little as people start approaching you. Some of them you’ve met last year, but there are a lot of new faces. Your project has brought in quite a few new sponsors and investors and now they want to meet you and talk about the research their money is going into.
You try your best to keep a smile plastered across your face as you tell the people the same thing over and over again, receiving praise and compliments on your work before moving onto the next conversation just to start over again.
You can feel your social batteries running out, not sure you can put up with another conversation with a wealthy investor who wants you to know you have a job because they gave money for your project in hopes of you bringing more money to them.
Harry has stayed by your side the whole evening, and you didn’t notice but he kept examining you every few minutes to make sure you were holding up and he noticed how tired you’ve grown from socializing for so long.
“Y/N,” he softly calls out, his palm finding the small of your back. “Why don’t we get some fresh air?” he kindly offers and you immediately understand that he is trying to get you away from the guests and the overwhelming conversations you’ve been dealing with. Nodding you let him usher you outside, finding a spot where the two of you can be a little alone.
“I fucking… hate small talks and being nice to everyone,” you let out a long and heavy sigh, as you lean against the railing, paying just one short glance at the city’s bright lights under your feet. Harry chuckles shortly.
“I figured. You’ve been chewing your lips so hard I was afraid you’d start bleeding.”
Now that he has brought your attention to it, you realize you are doing it again, so you let go of your bottom lip from between your teeth and it brings out another chuckle from Harry.
“I’m just… not good with these… social stuff.”
“I disagree with that,” he hums, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Oh please, if you haven’t realized it, my number of zero friends is a tell, I think.”
“Come on, it’s not zero. You’re friends with Mara.”
“But family doesn’t count, she is kind of forced to be my friend,” you shrug, making him laugh.
“Okay, but I’m your friend too, aren’t I?” You furrow your eyebrows at him.
“You spend time with me because it’s your job.”
His eyes soften on you as he leans against the railing next to you, looking so effortlessly handsome and charming, you almost need to take a deep breath at the sight of him. And the cheeky smile on his pink lips is definitely not helping your case.
“I know you didn’t mean that. You’re a smart woman, Y/N.” Reaching out he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he inches closer a tiny bit. “I think we stepped over the line of just work.”
“So… you consider me your friend?” you ask shyly.
“If you have to ask maybe I’ve been doing something wrong,” he chuckles softly, making you smile too. Folding your arms a shiver runs down your spine from the cold evening breeze. “Are you cold?” Harry asks, but before you could even say a word, he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders.
“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out shyly.
“Do you want another drink?”
“Yeah, I think I might need another one,” you chuckle and nodding he tells you to just stay there until he gets you a new one.
Turning towards the view, you enjoy the lonely moments for a little, not too keen on going back inside and keep up the façade of interest any longer. You’d rather just head home, maybe have another drink with Harry on your couch while you watch a rerun of whatever show is on TV and then fall asleep after a hot shower. You’ve been working way too much lately and it’s just now crashing down on you. Next week you definitely should cut back on your hours at the lab, the project is already going amazing, it won’t hurt if you actually had some rest before you lose your mind.
You hear footsteps approaching you and you think it’s Harry returning, but as you turn around you are faced with a stranger, a man who is staring down at you with bloodshot eyes and… a gun pointed at you.
Your breath hitches, your blood freezing in your veins at the sight and your legs almost give up underneath you.
“What… who are you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, tears already flooding your eyes as you melt against the railing as if you had anywhere to go, but you have no chance against him.
One glance at the gun allows you to see that it has a silencer on, with the music coming from inside and no one around, if he shoots you, he’ll be able to get away before anyone realizes what happened.
The man doesn’t answer, just holds up the gun, aiming right at your chest and you close your eyes, thinking that this is it. This is how your life ends, in the middle of a posh party with no one around to help you. Your lips are trembling and hands are shaking as you hold onto the railing, waiting for the inevitable to come, keeping your eyes shut, not wanting to see your killer as the last thing you see before you go.
And then you hear the muffled gunshot, making you scream in fear, your knees turning into jelly, but the pain never comes. Instead, you hear grunting and growling as a body falls to the ground in front of you.
Your eyes snap open and you see Harry straddling the man, the gun lying near your attacker’s hand and he is trying to reach it, but before he could, you kick it away as Harry throws a punch at his face that stops him from trying too hard to free himself.
The next few moments are so busy and blurry at the same time. Your legs give up underneath you, making you fall to the ground, your whole body shaking in waves. In the meantime Harry gets the man into a position where he can be easily controlled and people start flooding out at the scene, helping Harry while security working at the party take the man, the police already on its way.
When Harry can finally step back from the attacker, his eyes fall on your figure and he rushes over to you, kneeling down next to your trembling body, cradling you into his arms upon seeing how shaken up you are.
“Hey, it’s alright. It’s over, you’re alright,” he murmurs, holding you tight as your fists grab onto his shirt, your breathing is uneven, the oxygen barely makes its way into your lungs as you’re panting and gasping from the shock. “Come on, let’s get you inside, Y/N,” he gently tells you, helping you up from the floor even though your body feels like a pile of brick.
You can feel everyone staring at you, whispering behind your back as you try to hide in Harry’s arms while he walks you back inside, away from the man that tried to take your life. He walks you into one of the bathrooms and closing the lid he sits you down to the toilet while he grabs a towel and wetting it he kneels in front of you, tapping the cloth to your cheeks gently. You haven’t even realized that you’ve been sweating from the shock and the coldness feels amazing against your burning skin.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, but not even you are sure why.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he gently murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze as you shut your eyes closed. He grabs a glass from one of the cabinets and fills it with water handing it over to you.
“Thank you,” you mumble, bringing it to your trembling lips, but before you could drink it, your eyes snap up to meet his gaze. “And thank you for… what you did.” Your voice dies down at the end, the picture of the man pointing the gun at you still living so vividly in your mind.
“No need, it’s my job after all, right?” he chuckles softly, making your lips twitch the slightest bit before you start sipping on the water.
The police show up soon and they arrest the man who refuses to talk. They also request you to give your statement about what happened, but Harry manages to let you just give them the brief story and go in sometime soon to give them your full statement so you don’t have to spend any more time there. They are quite sure the man was hired by someone who doesn’t want you to finish your project, and it’s scary how far some people are willing to go just for the money, just to keep sick people in suffering for their own benefit.
Heading home you stay silent as Harry drives, staring out the window you let the nightlights of the city pass by you while you still see the same face, the face of the man that held a gun at you tonight. The gunshot is still ringing through your ears, it was so close, so real… of course it was real! All of it was real and your life was on the line. If it weren’t for Harry, you wouldn’t be here right now.
Arriving to your home Harry helps you out of the car and you cling onto his hand as you head up to the apartment. He keys the two of you into your home, flicking the lights on and looking around before you go further inside, just to be sure.
“It’s all clear, don’t worry,” he murmurs as you nod and make your way into the bedroom. Kicking your heels off your feet you sit on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath, feeling your limbs loosening up a bit for the first time in the past hour.
Harry moves around the place doing whatever before he joins you in the room, kneeling in front of you his hands find your bare knees and your eyes meet his worry-filled green irises.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he softly asks and you nod your head. “Come on, I’ll start the water for you.”
He helps you up from the bed and walks you into the bathroom. You stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do as he starts running the water in the walk in shower before he steps back to you.
“Would you…?” you ask, turning around, needing help with the zipper of your dress. Harry clears his throat as his fingers work on it and a moment later the fabric loosens around your frame as you hold it to your chest with your arms. Turning back around you peek up at Harry and you notice the slight blush on his cheeks.
“I’ll be outside at the door, okay?” He whispers, his fingers delicately touching your cheek as you nod before you watch him walk out and close the door behind him.
The hot water feels freshening, like it could burn away the memories even though it’s still so vivid in your mind. You stand under the running water longer than you intended, but it feels nice and needed. Once you’re done, you wrap yourself into a fluffy towel and walk out of the steamy bathroom only to find Harry sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting like a loyal puppy. When he sees you, he stands from his spot and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan over your body that’s barely covered.
“Alright, I’ll go now, but if you—“
“Don’t!” you gasp, panic taking over you at the thought of being left alone. One of your hands grasps his arm to stop him from moving and he freezes in his spot, staring back at your fearful eyes. “Please, stay here,” you plead, voice barely over than just a whisper.
There’s a heartbeat of a pause in him as he is watching you intently and for a moment you think he’ll say no, but then his hand finds yours on his arm and he gives it a gentle squeeze as he nods.
“Okay.”
You let out a long, relieved breath as you ease into comfort. He’s staying, he’ll be with you all night, protecting you from everything and everyone.
“Can I take a shower too?” he asks softly and you nod, stepping to your wardrobe to get him a clean towel. “Thank you. I’ll be back shortly,” he tells you before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door closed behind him.
You hear the water running again and you find yourself standing at the same spot as you listen to the noises coming from the bathroom. Harry is in there, soaking under the water naked and you can’t take your mind off of how badly you want to be there with him.
It’s not just because of what happened tonight, though it made you realize that you don’t have much time to waste. Nothing can assure that you’ll live another day and you don’t want to deny happiness from yourself. You want to be with Harry and as far as you can make it out, he feels the same way.
Upon a sudden decision, you pad your way over to the bathroom door and open it carefully, the warmth immediately hitting your face as you step inside and close it behind you. The glass of the shower is steamed up, you can only make out the blurry frame of Harry in there and you wonder if he heard you come in, but it doesn’t seem like that. His clothes from the night are lying on the floor in a pile, his watch that he always wears is carefully placed next to the sink.
Your hands grab onto the edge of the towel around your body and you unwrap yourself, hanging it up on the wall before stepping to the shower. Hoping you won’t scare him, you open the door, the steam immediately hugging your naked body warmly and you see him standing there with his back facing you as you step into the spacious walk-in shower.
He notices your presence, you see him freeze mid-movement before he peeks over his shoulder, his eyes falling on you as he slowly turns, facing you completely. Standing in front of him completely bare, you feel more vulnerable than ever in your life. You’re scared that he is going to send you away, that he won’t let you get closer to him and if that happens, you’ll feel humiliated, but he just stands there in his naked glory and doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a chance to shoot your shot.
Reaching up your hands slide to his hard chest, up to the base of his neck as you push your front against his, skin to skin with the hot water running down your bodies. His hands find your waist and you could cry from the feeling of his touch on you. Pushing yourself up to your tiptoes your nose nudges against his as your eyes fall closed.
“Y/N,” he breathes out, stopping you right when your lips could meet. Opening your eyes you see the hesitation in his green irises that appear so much darker than they usually do.
“Do you not want it? You don’t want me?” you whisper.
“I do. It’s not that,” he sighs shaking his head slightly. “But you went through a lot today. I don’t want you to make decisions you might regret in the morning.”
You can’t help the small smile that tugs on your lips at how considerate and protective he is over you, thinking that this might be just something that crashed over you in the heat of the moment, but it’s been in the making from the first day you met him. Despite all your protesting against him, you knew you needed him and not just as your guard. He is what’s been missing from your life all along, you just never realized it.
“There’s nothing I could regret when it comes to you, Harry. I needed tonight to open my eyes. Our days are counted, I’m done running from my own happiness.”
He lets out a long, shaky breath as his hands hold tighter onto your waist while your hands run up his neck until your fingers tangle into his wet locks.
“I need you. And not just because of tonight. I’ve always needed you.”
“I’m here, Y/N. I’m all yours,” he breathes out before his lips smash against yours all wet and hard, but it’s the most heavenly feeling you’ve ever experienced.
You become a mess, tangled in each other, lips melting together as your hands explore naked limbs and torsos, bodies pressing tightly against each other shamelessly. Harry walks you backwards until your back hits the cold tile and you let out a whimper as you arch your back at the sudden feeling, just as his head dips down, lips attacking your neck, kissing and nibbling on the soft skin. Your light leg lifts as his hands wander down your thigh, your hips pressing together and you feel how hard he is, his cock pushed against your other thigh, making you moan at the feeling. Reaching down you blindly wrap a hand around the base, giving him a few slow pumps, earning a guttural growl from him before his lips return to yours, kissing you hard and filled with passion. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, ass, back and chest, as if he was mapping your whole body wanting to remember how every inch feels under his touch.
Without tearing his lips away from yours, he blindly reaches behind him, shutting the water off before urging you to jump into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you out of the shower, placing you to the counter next to the sink as he stands between your legs, his hands once again finding your breasts as they knead them, making you whimper and shake under his touch. It’s euphoric and addictive, you already know you won’t be able to go a day without feeling him against you like this.
“Bed?” he breathes out against your mouth and you nod eagerly. Reaching to the side he grabs a towel, wrapping it around you, tapping and squeezing you to dry you off, throwing fits of giggles when you grab it and wrap it around his body as well.
The towel falls to the floor abandoned and forgotten as he lifts you off the counter and brings you to the bed, laying you down and holding himself up above you with one arm. His other hand cups your cheek and turning your head you kiss his palm gently, eyes glued to his as he settles between your legs.
“Are you sure about this?” he breathes out, his lips dancing against your cheek and the corner of your mouth.
“Yes! Harry, please!” you beg with a whimper, your whole body aching to feel him inside you.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, love,” he kisses you as his hand leaves your heated face, runs down your naked body until his fingers reach your throbbing clit.
He slides two digits through your already wet folds, but just to work you up even more he starts drawing circles on your bud, turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. Your fingers dig into the lean muscles on his back, feeling them twitch from his movements and one hand sliding down to his ass, grabbing a handful of him while pushing him closer to you, his erection pressing against your core.
“Harry, I need you!” you moan, not able to contain yourself any longer. You need to feel him, you need him as close as possible.
Reaching over to your nightstand you grab a condom from the drawer, ripping the package open with your teeth before you carefully grab his erection and roll the condom down his length, ready to finally feel him inside you.
He flicks his fingers on your clit one last time before his hand wraps around the base of his cock, giving it a few pumps while his soft lips kiss down your jawline and throat, his face hiding in the crook of his neck. Your arms circle around his shoulders, your chest heaving from the sensation as he positions himself just right, the tip teasing your hole. Harry lifts his head up, his bright eyes finding your gaze just as he sinks into you, filling you up perfectly.
“H-Harry! Fuck—“ you gasp at the feeling, your walls stretching around his thick cock as he stays still for a few moments, letting you adjust to his size.
You draw your legs up, giving you more space to go deeper as he starts thrusting, sliding in and out of you oh so perfectly, inching you closer to your relief with each movement. You cup his face in your hands, staring into his eyes as if you could see his soul in them and for a split second, you feel like you actually do. His lips are parted and the cross pendant is grazing your chest while he fucks into you, never falling out of his rhythm.
You want to beg to him not to stop, to keep moving and moving, but no words can leave your mouth as your back arches, your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. You start grinding your hips in sync with his, allowing him to reach deeper into you, making your toes curl from pleasure.
“Harry, I’m gonna—I-I’m gonna—Ah!” You can’t make up one coherent sentence as your legs start shaking, feeling your orgasm taking over your body.
“I know, baby. Let it go. Let me make you feel good,” he pants, his lips kissing you everywhere he can reach, your lips smashing against each other in a messy kiss, your tongue meeting his in the middle just when you reach your high.
You moan and cry out his name, fingers digging into his flesh as you chase your release. Seeing you fall apart underneath him is enough to throw him over the edge, spilling himself into the condom as his mouth hangs agape, your name falling off his tongue as if it was the holiest glorification. Combing your fingers through his hair you hold him to your chest as he collapses on top of you, his head lying on your naked chest as you both try to catch your breath in the sudden silence that came over you without the sounds of your passion.
Rolling off of your body he slips out of you, an empty feeling taking over you right away, but he is quick to cradle you into his arms to keep the intimacy. You lay your head to his chest, a thin layer of sweat covering the both of you, but you couldn’t care less. You listen to his steady heartbeat as you draw one of the swallows on his chest with your finger, running it over the lines of the ink. You want to soak in the moment and stay in it for as long as possible, but you can barely keep your eyes open. As Harry’s fingers are gently running up and down your bare back you let your eyes close and the last thing you remember is hearing his soft whisper.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”
You wake up without an alarm in the morning and it’s the first time for that in a long-long time. You stir and groan before you open your eyes, your hands reaching out next to you, looking for the man that was next to you when you fell asleep, but there’s nothing and no one beside you now.
Panic rises in your chest as your eyes pop open and you frantically look around in the room, hoping to see him somewhere near, but you’re alone.
“Harry?” you call you as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest since you’re still naked. No answer comes and you can feel your heart rate rising instantly.
Getting out of bed you grab the nearest clothing item you find which is an old hoodie, and you put on a pair of clean panties before you carefully walk out of the bedroom, afraid of what you might find outside, but it’s completely silent and still, no one is around. Harry has left.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, feeling the lump in your throat growing as tears are forming in your eyes.
Where did he go? Why did he leave? Is he coming back? Is he gone forever?
You can’t stop yourself from going into depth you shouldn’t, just because you don’t find him first thing in the morning, but you still haven’t entirely recovered from last night’s events and before you could stop yourself, you are thinking about the worst possibilities there could be.
And then you hear the lock turning in the front door.
Blood rushes out of your head as you freeze, afraid it’s another attacker and this time you won’t be as lucky as you were last night. But as the door opens Harry walks in with a paper bag in his arm and you can’t help, but start sobbing at the sight of him.
“Harry!” you cry out, launching at him and he barely have time to put the bag down before he catches you, locking you in his strong arms.
“Hey! No need to worry, it’s just me!” he soothes softly, his hands running up and down your back and head. “I’m sorry I scared you, just wanted to get you something to eat, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as you try your best to hold back your sobs.
“I just woke up alone and I thought…”
“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have left while you were sleeping. But I’m back and I’m alright.”
You just nod, hugging him a little longer before you loosen your hold around him to lean back and look him in the eyes.
“So… you’re staying? With me?”
“If you want me to, yes,” he nods with a soft smile as he cups your tear-soaked face in his hands. “I’ll keep you safe and sound and I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”
“Just be yourself and… be with me,” you shyly ask him and he nods, his smile growing into a wide grin before he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet, intoxicating kiss.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles au#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfic#bodyguard!harry
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STYLES SUNDAY
#harry styles#fuck me sideways#i fucking love him#adorkable#rockstar boyfriend vibes#harry edward styles#harry cute#harry styles fuck me sideways
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Reconcile II
Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!
Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx
Read part I here
Harry
“So… are we okay now?”
We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.
“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”
“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”
I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”
I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together.
“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.”
“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”
“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”
“I guess,” she says glumly.
I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.
Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.
Just like that. Without a fight.
I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself.
“How’s your mum?”
“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”
Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.
“Can I ask you something, daddy?”
“Anything, poppet.”
“Do you still get sad too?”
I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat.
“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”
“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”
I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.
“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood.
“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”
I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.
“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”
“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.
“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.
She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”
“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.
She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.
“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”
Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.
“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”
***
I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house.
You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw.
I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat.
I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity.
In hell.
And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse.
I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.
And all hell breaks loose.
“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”
“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”
“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”
“That’s-”
“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.”
“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”
“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”
“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?”
Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.
I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.
“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”
“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”
“You chose to be there.”
“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”
“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.
“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”
“Harry, it’s too late.”
“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”
“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”
Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past. “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”
“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”
I nod.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”
“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”
I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful.
“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”
I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush.
But I don’t.
Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”
“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”
“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”
“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”
“When really…”
“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”
“Emma…”
“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.”
I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen.
But where do we go from there?
Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles.
All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t.
“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair.
“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.
***
Emma comes from a big family.
There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university.
They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life.
After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed.
Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space.
I hear voices as we walk inside.
“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.
Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”
“Oh.”
The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.
You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us.
“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.
Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze.
“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.
“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks.
I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”
“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”
“FREYA!” Her dad barks.
Meg can barely contain her giggles.
“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes.
The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.
Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”
“Luce,” Emma mutters.
“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”
“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”
Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.
“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.
“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.
“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”
The three of them nod in unison.
“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk.
“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”
We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away.
Let’s just hope it stays that way.
***
There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage.
I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside.
Not yet. I need a moment.
These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns.
I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.
“Harry?”
I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“I should be the one apologising, Em.”
“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”
“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”
“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”
We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster.
“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.
“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”
Emma laughs under her breath.
“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife.
“He is.”
“That got legs?” I ask her.
“Possibly.”
“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”
“Harry…”
“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”
The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.
“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.
“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.
Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.
“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”
“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.
“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”
“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes.
“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”
“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.
The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry.
“Don’t be sad, mummy.”
“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”
“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.
“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”
“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.
Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”
“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”
Emma
“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”
I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.
Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.
However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.
Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it.
We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions.
“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”
Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”
“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”
“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?”
“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”
“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Very well-endowed.”
I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder.
“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”
Both of them huddle into me like penguins.
“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”
“Lovely. No.”
Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”
“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.
“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…”
Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare.
“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”
Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to.
“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”
If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.
“Anything you might fancy or need?”
She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line.
Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.
“Seriously?” She says.
“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”
“Like mentally?” I ask.
“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”
“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?
She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.
“Show me your bush,” she orders.
“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”
“And we’ll wash them?”
Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.
“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”
“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”
I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”
“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”
“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”
I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.
“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”
“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”
“Do you want a shape?”
“What?”
“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”
“No!”
Meg roars with laughter.
“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”
“Do I have to?”
“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”
I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.
“Thanks, Luce.”
“You don’t say this enough I feel.”
“We really don’t,” says Meg.
“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”
“I’m good.”
“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.
“Like?”
“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”
“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.
“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”
“That’s what condoms are for?”
They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant.
“How do I initiate it?”
“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”
“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”
“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”
Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?
“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.
“I haven’t got any condoms.”
Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?
“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.
“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”
I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.
“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”
He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.
“Crisps?”
Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”
Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”
I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird.
“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.
And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates.
“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.
“It can wait.”
My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra.
Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.
“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed.
In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.
You know what, sod it.
I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips?
I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now.
I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?
I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that.
“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.
I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”
“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”
“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”
I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”
“Is it your ex-husband?”
He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud.
“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”
“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”
“I’m worried.”
“And what are you worried about?”
“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”
Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”
What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London.
Harry
It was a knock on the door that woke me up.
When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?
“Emma?”
She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”
I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”
She takes a step back instead.
“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.
“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.”
She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.
“I don’t think I can.”
So I go to her.
The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.
I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”
The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”
“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”
“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”
I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”
Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”
I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years.
We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough.
I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”
Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine.
And we go in out of the rain.
I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands.
“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”
“A while. I was walking… thinking.”
“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”
Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back.
“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?”
Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”
“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”
She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”
“Please spare me the details,” I beg.
“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”
Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.
“Oh, Ems…”
I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her.
For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.
“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.
I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs.
Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.
I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.
My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place.
“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.
She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.
“Yer a bloody ice cube!”
She laughs kind of evilly.
We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.
“Talk to me,” she says softly.
“I’m taking time off work.”
“But you never take time off work?”
“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”
I see her smile in the dim light.
“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”
This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.
My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”
“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”
“A puppy, huh?”
“A puppy.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”
“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”
“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?”
“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”
We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm.
“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep.
“Hmm?”
“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”
And I’m done.
The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me.
***
Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon.
We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.
“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.
“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”
“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”
“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”
It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.
When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”
She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.”
She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.
“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”
“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.
I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”
“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”
Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”
She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable.
Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”
She moans softly in my ear.
“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.
Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”
“My face between your legs.”
***
Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs.
Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.
We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus.
Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin.
“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”
“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”
“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”
“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.
I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”
“I’m serious.”
“You sound like Austen.”
She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”
“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”
She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”
“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”
“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”
“Not true-”
Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”
“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”
Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.
“Wanna dance?”
The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.
We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.
“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.
“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”
She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.
“Emma?”
She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”
“You don’t need an excuse.”
She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love…
***
“What the-”
“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”
“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.
Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?
And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.
I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.
“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.
“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask her.
Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”
I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.
“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.
“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.
“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”
“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”
In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious.
“Duly noted.”
“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.
“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”
“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.
“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”
“Have you got your Aladdin?”
She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”
Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.”
***
A month later…
I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.
The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.
I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.
I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way.
Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.
I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely?
I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute.
Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy.
I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?
I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.
I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.
In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.
Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.
Finally, I say, “surprise!”
Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”
“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”
That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.
I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am.
I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”
“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.
“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.
“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.
Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”
“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”
“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”
“Deputy Dawg?”
“Bark Twain?”
We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.
SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”
“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.
“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”
“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.
“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”
We laugh.
“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”
Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen.
It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.
Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck.
Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.
“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”
“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing their parents hugging.”
Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”
“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”
She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.
“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.
“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.
Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”
That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.
After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.
Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”
Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”
I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”
She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”
Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”
“Oh, I will,” she teases.
“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.
Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.
Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.
“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.
“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.
“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”
“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time.
Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”
Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.
“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage.
All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms.
I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”
When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”
“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff.
I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on.
Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”
“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.
“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”
“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”
“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.
“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”
We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”
“You what?” My eyes widen.
“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”
I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile.
“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”
“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.
“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”
“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”
I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”
George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”
“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”
They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.
“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.
Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”
***
Emma
“Gary! This way, Gary!”
Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.
My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”
“Hell, why not.”
Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters.
“Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.
We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.
“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”
I nod. “I do.”
“The view was decent,” he grins.
“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”
“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”
“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”
We laugh.
I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me.
“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”
“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.
We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air.
Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.
“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking.
“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”
“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”
He progresses to a light canter.
“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.
“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”
A car flashes us.
I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car.
Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.
I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.
“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”
“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.
“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”
“Gary,” the kids say in unison.
“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.
“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”
“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”
“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”
Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume.
“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”
“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.
The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.
“Give our regards to June,” I say.
“Will do.”
He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”
“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.
I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.
“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”
I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents.
“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”
There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.
***
“Are you calling my turkey dry?”
I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.
“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.
I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper. I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.
I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.
“A mince pie.”
“With cow mince?”
“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.
Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”
She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce.
“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.
Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.
My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator.
We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season.
“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”
“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.
“That’s called Christmas milk.”
“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.
“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”
“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.
“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.
Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling.
It’s time.
“Harry?”
“Yeah?”
I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”
-
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kodachrome.
summary: you give harry a camera for his birthday and the two of you are more than excited to put it to good use.
warnings: smut, 18+
word count: 5k
song inspo.: kodachrome - paul simon
It’s true that you may have had ulterior motives with Harry’s birthday gift.
His hands are delicate, fingertips running across the surface of the Polaroid camera as though he’d break it if his grip got any tighter. The packs of film you’d purchased with the camera rest on the coffee table, being thoroughly ignored while Harry examines his gift, and you duck your head just a bit to read his expression. Slightly confused, brows furrowed, a small grin tugging at his lips - it’s what you’d expected with a gift like this, because it isn’t as though either of you need a camera. Surely both of your phones are better quality than the photos you’ll be taking with the Polaroid but it’s for the aesthetic, you suppose.
“Do you like it?” you question, voice soft.
Harry rests the camera on his lap and glances up at you, large hand moving to rest over your knee through your jeans. “Well, I love it, ‘course.”
There’s a second part of his response that’s left unsaid - perhaps the question of why you’d gotten him it - so you lean in, chin resting on your boyfriend’s shoulder and your lips drifting dangerously close to his ear. Just enough that you know his jeans are growing tighter and he shifts in his seat on your living room couch as if to prove it to you. “Thought it might be fun to start taking pictures of each other.”
A beat passes with silence, and then he turns his head to look at you, nearly bemused by the concept, as though he doesn’t know exactly what you’re implying. “Wha’ kinda pictures?”
You hum softly, reaching over to the coffee table to pick up one of the film packages, already beginning to tear open the wrapper. “The kind that’ll make touring more fun for both of us.”
Harry pauses, eyes narrowing at your fingers ripping open the crinkly film packaging, and you can practically hear his rebuttal of the idea before he says it. “Thought we said no nudes - people could find ‘em, babe.”
“Physical copies are more secure than digital ones,” you tell him, picking up the camera from his lap to put the film in. “Are you telling me you don’t want to take pictures of me sucking you off to have with you on tour? ‘Cause that’s very out of character for you, Mr. Styles.”
He snorts and the familiar sound is like music to your ears, and then he reaches over to grab the film-loaded Polaroid from your hands, fingers tracing over the small rainbow printed on the front of the camera. “I do,” he confesses, voice dropping in a way you recognize all too well, and your stomach drops with it. “Yeah, I do.”
You lean sideways, resting against the arm of the couch as Harry shifts to face you, raising the camera up to his face with a grin gracing his lips that doesn’t at all match the mood of what you do next - mere seconds before Harry takes the picture, you grip onto the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your chest for the camera to capture as his mouth drops into a soft ‘o.’
The click of the photo being taken is nearly deafening against the sudden thick silence, flash blinding you for just a moment and you’re left blinking furiously to regain sight as Harry lowers the camera to his lap. The camera spits out the photo, still white and undeveloped, and he picks it up with delicate fingers to rest it on the couch cushion between you two.
Your shirt drops back over your chest as you shift closer to Harry, pretending like you don’t hear the way his breathing has picked up and how his eyes keep darting to examine your side profile as if trying to see if you’re as affected as the photo as he is - and you are, of course. It’s possibly one of the hottest things you could ever imagine doing with him, taking photos like that, and you can’t lie and say that the redness blooming in his cheeks isn’t adding to the moisture you’re feeling in your panties.
You drag your thumb over the image slowly developing on the Polaroid between you. You can see the beginnings of the outline of your body, though it’s too light to discern the details yet. “Starting to come to. What do you think?”
It’s a stupid question and you already know the answer but it’s more gratifying to hear the way Harry’s voice cracks as he begins, “S’hot.”
“Just hot?”
“Like, g’na cum in m’pants hot.”
You grin and Harry turns his head and it’s practically all you can do to lean in, press your lips to his and feel his hand, pressing to your thigh and sliding upwards. Even through your jeans, his fingers so close to the spot you’re yearning for him has your stomach turning, and you raise your palm to press delicately against his cheek, holding his face close to yours. His breath smells and tastes like the birthday cake you’d been eating in the kitchen with a tinge of expensive wine from dinner with all of your friends but above all he tastes like Harry, the man you love so much, the man who’s reaching down to the couch between you two and picking up the Polaroid with two careful fingers.
“Look,” Harry hums softly as he pulls away from you and you look down at the picture to examine it with him. It’s you, in full color, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt tight above your breasts, exposing the cherry-red bra you’re donning beneath. It’s Harry’s favorite bra of yours - meant to be a surprise for later tonight but you don’t think he’ll mind seeing it early. The photo cuts off halfway up your face but you can see your smirk, smug as you saw the shock on his face just as the photo took. “S’developed.”
--
Harry’s soft moans are like music to your ears - like a favorite song and you’d love nothing more than to listen to it on repeat, plug in your headphones and tilt your head back until it’s stuck in your head like an earworm.
For now, though, you’re more than content to enjoy them in the moment, and God, you’re enjoying it. He’s always vocal in bed but even more so when you ride him, when his fingers are digging bruises into your thighs to help your movements up and down and the only words that manage to fall off of his lips are breathy cries of your name like prayer, as though you’re a goddess and he’s merely a worshipper at your altar.
Your hips slow into a gentle roll against his, clit brushing up against his pelvic bone in a way that has a chill rolling up your spine, and your hand slides from its place on Harry’s chest to his throat. Wraps around his neck just so, squeezing experimentally to listen to the way his moans crackle in the thick, humid air of your London bedroom, and a rush of arousal gushes to your core at the sight and sound.
“Look at me,” you order Harry, and you think you understand why he’s always so reluctant to hand you the reins when you want them. There’s something special about being above him, knowing that you can control what he does with just an authoritative lilt in your voice - even if he has the strength to flip you over at any moment. Deep down, you reckon he likes being below you sometimes just as much as you adore being on top. When he doesn’t obey your commands, eyes still rolled to the back of his head, you pause your movements completely, and his eyes fly open as if you’d pried them open. “Look at me, Har.”
You tighten your hand around his throat again as his eyes bore into yours, pupils clouded with lust that you’re sure are reflected in your own. When you’re positive he won’t look away from you, his hips bucking up in just the slightest for any semblance of movement, you resume your motions. Roll your hips just once against his, moan catching in your throat, and you keep going. You lift your hips up, thighs trembling to hold yourself up before sinking back down, feeling him fill you again and again.
“Fuck -” Harry gasps, tone cracking and you grin down at him, slamming your hips into his hard enough that the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowers his voice - but it doesn’t, and you’re oh so glad that you could hear it. “Feels - feels so good, babe.”
As dominant as you’re trying to be, his praise nearly makes you break and it would be the perfect moment for him to grab your thighs and flip you over but you regain your composure just as fast as you’d lost it. Your voice is shaky as you loosen your grip ever so slightly on his neck, leaning backwards enough so your clit is on display for him, glistening wet with the mixture of your juices together. “R - rub my clit for me.”
And he complies, hand sliding down his sweaty abdomen until two fingers are pressed to your clit, rubbing soft circles into the overly sensitive nub but you don’t want soft, you want hard. So you push your body forward, pressing your clit further into his fingers and he’s not stupid - he catches the hint and presses down harder, circles tightening into hard rubs that has your head dropping back, sweaty hair sticking to your back.
“God,” you tell him, rocking your hips more against his as a reward, “feels so good, Har. Doin’ so good - keep doing that.”
And he does, of course. Keeps rubbing your clit like he was born for it and in return you ride him with the new form of vigor that he earns, eyes rolling back into your head. When you look back down at him, grip tightening like a noose around his throat, you’re nearly overwhelmed by how fucking spectacular he looks. All sweaty hair, mouth dropped open in a permanent ‘o’ and his eyes struggling to stay open.
You could decide to merely engrave it in your brain for all eternity, but you have a better idea to memorialize it.
You swallow thickly, hips slowing to a near halt as Harry’s eyes fly completely open, threatening to complain. “R - reach into the drawer, Har. The nightstand.”
You can read the confusion on his face clear as day but he follows your orders, reaching over to tug open the nightstand drawer. Sitting inside, clear as day, sits the white Polaroid camera, and Harry knows what to do before you tell him to. He picks it up with one shaky hand and you immediately reach to grab it from him, turning it over briefly in your hands before raising it up to your face.
Briefly your hips roll over his, gentle but enough for him to rest his head back into his pillow, lips turning upwards into a satisfied grin and you know that’s the best shot you’ll get - his face contorted with pleasure, hair spread out over the pillow, and the flash of the picture being taken only makes the scene look that much more angelic.
You grab the photo with two shaking fingers and lift it up to examine it, resting the camera on the bed beside you. It hasn’t developed and so you shake it just for a moment, feeling increasingly needy to fucking see it but you know it will take time - and you certainly have a lot of that.
“Open up,” you direct and he obeys, mouth dropping open and you insert the picture onto his mouth, watching his teeth and lips clamp onto it. “Now, keep it nice like that ‘till it develops. You can do that, can’t you? ‘Course you can.”
--
“Keep those eyes on me, babe.”
It’s a task that’s easier said than done, eyes rolling nearly completely back in your head as you search to meet Harry’s. When your eyes find his it’s difficult to maintain, vision nearly completely upside down as you hang off the edge of the bed of your Malibu hotel room, fingers gripping so tight onto the duvet you’d be surprised if your nails hadn’t torn through the fabric. Gripping the coversis the only way to not reach out for Harry’s thighs and he’d forbid you from doing so with the threat of not being able to cum - a risk you’re rather unwilling to take.
His fingers brush your neck, surely searching for the bulge indicative of how far his cock is shoved down your throat, and you can tell he’s found it when he squeezes just hard enough to have your vision go fuzzy. Your tongue swirls around the swollen tip of his cock, feeling him slide out of your mouth just enough for you to press a gentle kiss to the tip, his hiss showing how much he appreciated the gesture before he’s pushing back in your mouth.
He’d been starting slow, fucking your throat gentle to make sure you’re alright with it. It’s not often that you do this - you prefer to be on your knees for him, with his hands in your hair to occasionally force you to go faster. But there is certainly something better about this, struggling to keep your eyes open and feeling blood rush to your head while trying to keep your sore jaw wide open for Harry to fuck.
Eventually, though, the slow pace had been abandoned and you can feel him picking up the pace, hips bucking into your face just fast enough to make you feel like you’re losing your damn mind but you wouldn’t have it any other way, even if you’re nearly gagging on him with every other thrust.
“God,” Harry moans, and through your blurred vision you can see his palms coming down to cup your face, using his leverage on your cheeks to increase his speed. “God, look so fuckin’ - fuckin’ pretty, baby. So pretty, takin’ my dick so well. Look at tha’ - moan f’me, babe.”
And you do, of course. You moan desperately and it’s muffled as his pelvis presses nearly flat to your face, holding himself there, and your cheeks hollow as you suck him, and you watch him toss his head back with sheer ecstasy and it encourages you to hold out for just another extra second before your hand flies towards his thigh, smacking twice, and he pulls out of you immediately until only the tip of his member rests on your tongue.
His thumbs massage your jawline as you flick your tongue over the tip of his cock, taking the second of pause to catch your breath and relish in his touch. It’s only a moment, though - you jerk your head just once up and he takes the gesture as it is, an invitation to keep going.
“There y’go,” Harry breathes, hands sliding downwards until he’s grasping your throat, heels of his hands massaging the lump in your throat as he had before. “Should take a picture of you - remember this forever.”
Do it, you want to shout at him. You love when he takes pictures and you’d love nothing more than to see yourself from his perspective but it seems that he didn’t need your suggestion - resting on the bed is his Polaroid camera from when you’d dumped your bags when you’d first gotten to the hotel and it’s become a traveling staple since you’d gotten it for him - you two never forget to bring it with you.
His fumbling hands raise the camera to his face, cock still thrusting in and out of your willing mouth and you make sure your eyes are open when the flash goes off, the click intensely loud in the hotel room. Your tongue swirls around his cock, grinning as Harry pulls the photo from the bottom of the camera and tosses it onto the bed, hand sliding down from your throat to your tits and his fingers pluck at your nipple just as the flash goes off again and the camera spurts out another image.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” your boyfriend murmurs, hips thrusting his cock further into your mouth and you gag around him before loosening your throat to take him, no way of encouraging him to continue but he doesn’t need it. “M’so fuckin’ close - and m’gonna cum on your face, and in your mouth, too. D’you want that?”
You nod.
“Knew you would.” His face is nearly adoring as he stares down at you and it’s an expression that doesn’t match the absolute filth of what’s in your mouth. “When I’ve painted your face like - like fuckin’ Michelangelo - m’gonna take another picture, and then m’gonna fuck you.”
It sounds just about perfect to you and you nod vehemently, Harry’s palm closing in around your breast and squeezing and in turn, you tighten your throat around his length and it gets the response you’d wanted - a sharp buck of his hips, and then he pulls out of your mouth.
Your lips close in around the tip of his cock, sucking on the swollen head and you can tell by the way his head drops back that he’s there - just a moment later, his hand pumping his cock, thick ribbons of cum spurt from the head and it’s warm as it lands on your face, and your tongue darts out to lick at the bit of it that had landed near your lips.
His breathing is heavy, desperately trying to catch his breath and it has a rush of pride coursing through your veins - only you do this to him, leave him needy and desperate and just as the smirk graces your lips, he’s muttering, “Say cheese,” and the flash illuminates your hotel room once more.
--
There’s something almost relaxing about having Harry’s face between your thighs.
It’s a sensation you’ll never tire of no matter how often it happens - and with his absolute adoration for the act, it happens often. Sometimes it’s hard and intense, fingers digging into your thighs and leaving bruises that won’t vanish for days, but other times - like now - it’s nearly offhanded. Lazy and gentle, his tongue swirling around your clit as your fingers lightly brush through your hair, your free hand clutching Harry’s Polaroid, waiting for the best moment to take the picture you’re yearning.
Your fingernails scratch at his scalp, digging deeper into his head as his teeth brush against your clit just enough to have your back arching upwards, hips bucking up into his mouth as a soft moan escapes your throat. You can practically feel Harry smirking as his tongue rests flat over your folds, juices gushing to the apex of your thighs at the motion.
His breath is hot against your cunt as his lips close around your clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud and his palms smooth up and down your thighs, gently holding your lower body down before your hips can buck up to meet his mouth again. “Try not to move,” Harry mumbles against your pussy, voice sending vibrations rolling through your body and a chill slithers up your spine, head dropping back onto the arm of your living room couch. The movie playing on the television - Groundhog Day - has been long forgotten, abandoned from the moment he pushed you to lie on the couch and pushed off your sweatpants. “C’mon, baby - stay still f’me.”
You swallow thickly, raising the camera to your face and peering at Harry through the small screen. You can’t see his face - just the mess of curls on top of his head and your fingers combing through the locks - his palms, smoothing over your thighs gently - his eyelashes, on display while his eyes remain shut with pleasure. He tells you, again and again, that he loves eating you out more than you do and you’ve always rolled your eyes because there’s no way in hell he likes it more than you -
But sometimes you do believe him.
“Do that again, Har,” you murmur, voice dropping into a breathy cry as Harry repeats what you’d asked him to, his nose nudging at your clit while his tongue flicks at your folds. It’s at that moment that you take the first picture, flash illuminating the slick that coats your mound in a way you hadn’t noted before - at the sudden brightness Harry looks up and you can see your wetness surrounding his chin and mouth, pure proof of how hard he’s been working your cunt, and you take another picture.
The two images fall into your palms and you rest them on your stomach, tugging your shirt further up your torso so they lay flat on your skin. Harry’s eyes drift upwards for just a moment, scanning the faded outline of your legs wrapped around his shoulders and you can see the beginnings of a smirk working his lips before he turns back to the task at hand, tongue parting your cunt before it slips inside of you, thrusting in and out.
“Fuck,” you breathe, legs tightening around his shoulders and forcing his head further into your cunt, and he moans into your folds at the motion. “Fuck!”
“Y’like tha’?” Harry questions, voice rolling through your body again and you toss your head back with a moaning sob, pushing your hips further up to him. “Yeah, y’do.”
“Har -” you swallow thickly as his lips close around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. “Har - oh my god, I’m gonna - gonna cum -”
“Cum f’me,” and his voice is gruff and desperate, practically a plead for you to cum on his tongue, to bless him with your juices. “Cum on m’tongue.”
Whatever he’d been spouting before about keeping still is long forgotten, your hips bucking upwards to meet his mouth as your orgasm washes through you. It’s intense and near brutal, not any sort of match for the energy Harry had been maintaining but it doesn’t matter - it’s so relieving that you don’t try to fight it, just let your body relax and your head fall back with what’s nearly a scream.
His flexed tongue continues lazily thrusting in and out of your cunt, helping you through your orgasm like it hadn’t affected him one bit but you know that isn’t true. You can see his lips, turned into a grin and his eyes darkened when he glances up at you, hands on your thighs sliding across your skin until his thumbs lazily pull apart your lips, giving him easier access to the parts of you he craves.
He’s going for your second orgasm - you know that. And you also know it won’t be too long until you get there, especially when his thumb focuses on your clit, massaging the over-sensitive nub as your cunt clenches vehemently around his tongue.
Click. One final picture, of Harry’s hands and face pressed to your pussy, devoted to getting you off and not worried in the slightest about his own neediness. When you’ve rested it to your stomach, next to the other two fully-developed images, you let your arm fall off the side of the couch, letting the camera slip from your fingers and land silently on the carpet, more than intent to focus solely on your boyfriend between your thighs.
Within moments you’re at the edge again, Harry’s face deepening between your thighs to help you ride out your second. Your hips roll against his lips, his thumbs rubbing your clit until you’re sobbing out towards the ceiling, heels digging into his back and forcing his body towards yours. You’re so lost in the sensation, in fact - and on the developed Polaroids sitting on your tummy - you hardly register his mumble of, “Think y’got a third one f’me?” But when you do -
Fuck.
--
On Harry’s next birthday, you have a very different gift idea planned.
The plane tickets to Greece were the main course - a vacation you’d both dreamt of taking for as long as you’d known each other and you’d never gotten around to it, but you figure there’s no time like the present to knock it off your bucket list. And you could tell Harry was overjoyed, turning and wrapping you in a hug so large you nearly fell off of your seat in the middle of his favourite restaurant.
The side to the main course, though - the appetizer? - is what you’d been waiting for him to open, and not in the middle of the restaurant. It’s only when you two get home, your arms hooked together, giggling like teenagers as Harry fumbles with his keys, that you pull out the small envelope with his name scribbled on the front in red pen.
“Go ahead,” you tell him, pushing yourself to sit on the marble countertops in your kitchen while Harry situates himself between your legs, turning the envelope over in his hands with the same lingering curiosity he’d held last year. “It’s not gonna bite you, Har. Just open it.”
He rolls his eyes at that, a grin tugging his lips upwards as his fingers dig into the paper, tearing the envelope delicately open and you can tell he’s trying not to rough up the wrapper too much, in case he’ll want to keep it for sentimentality but you’re positive that, once he finds what’s inside, he won’t care too much.
Then he dumps the contents of the envelope onto your lap, ten small Polaroid pictures falling onto your dress where it covers your thighs, some face up and some down and as soon as Harry’s eyes scan then, you can see the red blush creeping up his cheeks.
“You fuckin’ minx,” he breathes, and you grin, leaning forward to drop your forehead against his shoulder just as Harry picks up the first Polaroid. Turning it over in his hands you glance down to look at which one he’s examining - it’s a close up he’d taken, his palm wrapped around your neck tight enough that his fingers turned white and you can remember the exact moment. How you’d whined and begged him to go harder, to God, fuck me like a whore, Har, and he’d responded by grabbing your throat so tight you saw stars before he released you.
“I like that one,” you confess, nail dragging over the edge of your jawline where it’s cut off by the camera before you reach down to your lap, overturning every image so you can see them all before grabbing one. “This one - it’s my favorite, though.”
You hold the picture up for Harry to see, watching his eyes narrow as he scrutinizes it. It’s a picture of his back, taken when he’d been bent over putting on pants the morning after Valentine’s Day - you’d intended to be inconspicuous, memorializing the array of deep red scratches you’d left on his skin the night before and you were beyond grateful when you saw the developed image. He’d complained when he heard the click of the camera, telling you that if anyone gets their hands on this, they’ll think I’m being abused - but you knew he liked it, because you caught him peeking at it on your dresser during the next few weeks.
It’s a nice thing to do to include it in his gift, though you’d love nothing more than to frame it on your wall to have there forever.
Harry hums gently, grabbing the picture from your fingers and dropping it back to your lap. You can feel his fingertips, drumming along your thighs as he sorts through the photos. “I remember this one,” he tells you, picking up the end of one of the pictures so you can both see it. Your cheeks flush when you see it - you’d picked it to commemorate the very first (and certainly not the last) time the two of you had tried anal. “God, came so fuckin’ hard tha’ day. Look at tha’ - how red your ass is, fuckin’ beginn’ be to spank you -”
“Alright,” you interrupt, feeling heat creep up your neck to your cheeks as you smack the photo out of his hands. It’s a shaky picture, taken while he was balls deep in your ass, his palm spreading your cheeks apart to get the best angle of his cock inside of you - you remember how good it felt, watching the flash illuminate the room and hearing Harry moan as the photo developed where he’d placed it on your back. The Polaroid lands back on your lap and you reach down, sorting through the array of images until you find the one you’re searching for. “Here - thought you’d like this one the most.”
And - God - when he sees it, grabbing it out of your hands to examine up close, you swear you can hear him whine with need as he brings it up to his eyes. It’s a photo of the two of you in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror that had been at one of your hotel rooms and neither of you could pass up the chance to watch yourselves during the moment. Your dress, pulled down over your chest, his hand covering your breasts with his head buried in your neck, and you remember feeling him pressed inside of you, both so desperate and needy that you needed to capture it.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” You prod, pressing your lips to the side of Harry’s throat as his head drops to the side. It was, perhaps, the best sex you two had ever had - you couldn’t walk for a week without thinking of him. “You love it.”
“I do love it,” he confirms, hand snaking around your side to begin tugging your dress up your sides. “Reckon it’s not too early to start working on another year’s worth of pictures?”
#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#i hate this so much i didnt even reread it to edit it#also writing 1k words EXACTLY for each section was not a smart decision in hindsight#but whatever.#too late now!
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Upon request, today's rec list contains fics where either Louis or Harry is antisocial or untrusting. This is a shorter and more niche list, but we hope you enjoy it! If you want our rec lists to continue, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!
1) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33,319 words | Sequel
Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.
2) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41,041 words
Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.
3) Wild Hearts Run Free | Explicit | 42,979 words
Harry is an alpha who is harbouring a dark secret, one that has forced him into self-imposed isolation, far from civilization and far from temptation.
Louis is an omega who has fought the predispositions of his secondary gender his whole life and suddenly finds himself cast aside by his beta partner, leaving him to question his place in the world.
When fate and Mother Nature conspire to trap the two strangers together, will Harry’s worst fears be proven, or will Louis find a way to break down his walls and lead him into the light?
Harry is an alpha who is harbouring a dark secret, one that has forced him into self-imposed isolation, far from civilization and far from temptation.
Louis is an omega who has fought the predispositions of his secondary gender his whole life and suddenly finds himself cast aside by his beta partner, leaving him to question his place in the world.
When fate and Mother Nature conspire to trap the two strangers together, will Harry’s worst fears be proven, or will Louis find a way to break down his walls and lead him into the light?
4) No Easy Choice, But You're Mine | Explicit | 45,603 words
Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.
5) One Heart Broke, Four Hands Bloody | Explicit | 47,249 words
Louis’ life is really fucking dull until one day he happens upon the scene of a crime, as said crime is happening. A murderer with big hands and a charming smile somehow manages to change his life for the better.
6) Yesterday Came Suddenly | Explicit | 48,504 words
The one where Harry, the deadliest member of the NYC assassins’ guild, is forced to face a seemingly impossible task in hopes of finally leaving the underground behind for good, but when ghosts from the past come back to haunt him, escaping the darkness becomes that much harder.
7) Not Afraid Of Living On A Fault Line | Explicit | 55,218 words
His eyes widened when he realized he had just somehow managed to ask Harry to hang out.
Judging by Harry’s own expression, he wasn't the only one who was shocked. Louis expected him to laugh off the ridiculous request but the beta looked up at him, almost hopefully. “Are you being serious?”
“Um,” was all Louis could say, feeling every bit as speechless as Harry had been earlier. “Are you?”
Harry shrugged. “I’ve been told I need to get out more.”
8) Saving Symphony Hall | Mature | 124,766 words
Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.
“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”
“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”
“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.
“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”
“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.
“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”
“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”
Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.
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Note: english isn’t my first language. Hope you all like it. Please, give me your opinion with a reblog, fav or a note in my askbox.
summary: She did a good work with H. Lambert and now, reader is the new Harry's stylish. Mr. Harry Styles need more than clothing creations from her.
Pairings: Harry Styles!famous x Reader!stylist
warnings: insinuations, dirt talk, explicit sex, old Harry's band members mention and more.
talk with me | masterlist
never have i ever
Guess who is the new stylish of the famous Harry Styles' band? It's me! After studying and specializing in fashion, my day of glory had arrived!
The pandemic had passed, Harry Styles was back on tour, and Harry Lambert had suffered a domestic accident where he fractured his ankle. I had been an intern at his agency and one thing led to another.
Everyone was very kind, nice despite being shy... Ah, Englishmen... Because I had joined the team, we decided to celebrate my admission and the return to tour at Harry's house.
I put on a black outfit with lace, it was my favorite kind of outfit because it fulfilled something sexy and comfortable, perfect for a more casual evening.
"But what's up, did you like the guys?" Sarah Jones asked close to my ear, she was already on her 3rd glass of drink in less than half an hour.
"Everyone is very nice and welcoming" I flashed a smile after repeating the action near her ear.
Sarah gave a thumbs up and turned the straw of the clear drink back to her mouth. Mitch was already high, he and Harry were dancing on a makeshift dance floor.
Harry was wearing a white printed shirt and dark bell-bottomed pants with some spikes on the side. His exotic style would give me a hard time, but I was up for the challenge.
I continued to sit in the armchair in her huge garden, hour I would go to the little bar and flirt with the muscular blond man making drinks.
"Stylist!" Harry shouted raising his arms, I cringed nervously. Not for the moment, but he was making me nervous.
"Boss!" I giggled and turned to him, also raising my arms entering his.
Harry's mansion was the opposite of what I had imagined, it was something more minimalist with the exception of the bright pink staircase, it was in shades of black, white and gray.
There was pleasant music in the background, everyone from the production was spread out in the garden with some armchairs in the colors I mentioned before.
"I wanted to say something about the outfit for tomorrow's show." Harry said scratching the back of his head next, if I trusted my super powers of distrust, he was lying and flirting with me.
I smiled dull and agreed "Anytime" I smiled drinking some of the juice I had picked up.
🎵🎵🎵🎵
"I think I could tighten up the cuffs a little more, what do you think?" Harry commented. We were in Harry's huge closet, he on a stool standing even taller than me as I examined the outfit.
It was a black and white striped suit with some gold details, it fit his body very well, Lambert and I had designed it and got it right.
"You need to see about the fit, because you stretch your arms out to play the guitar and do your little dances..." I commented unpretentiously, Harry stared at me with a sideways grin.
"You're absolutely right, (Y/N)..." He started to unbutton his suit, I arched my eyebrows feeling my cheeks heat up, I turned around putting away the tape measure that was around my neck. "I really like your outfit, especially the lace, it suits your skin tone." I heard Harry behind me and the sounds of the clothes being thrown onto the couch nearby.
"Thanks, it's my favorite kind of outfit." I commented closing the little box, I turned my body around and Harry was standing in front of me, wearing nothing but black boxer shorts and his tattoos showing.
He was totally gorgeous, his eyes sparkling, his body all designed and his fingers being adorned by rings was something that turned me on.
"It's become mine too..." Harry threw the words out before moving closer stealing a kiss.
Having the dream job and kissing Harry Styles? Was that a dream?
Because of our height difference, I lifted my body on my tiptoes and passed my arms around his neck, I felt his hands pulling me tighter against his body that emanated a pleasant warmth.
His fingers trailed down my spine, reaching the straps of my lacy cropedd, his lips still sucking mine with all the affection in the world, I pulled his gently leaving a few small bites.
"Come with me, babe" He pulled me through a door, which led directly into his huge gray room
Without delay, my body was lying on the huge soft king size bed and his body on top of mine. I could feel his covered member slapping against my thigh, Harry let out a few grunts that made me shiver.
"I've wanted you since the day Lambert introduced you..." Harry was distributing kisses down my neck, hourly running the tip of his tongue across it. I crossed my legs around his waist and felt him pressing his member between my legs. It was warm and wet.
Soon, Harry pulled, with a little difficulty, my white cropped top up, leaving my breasts showing. Shame was eating away at me, but his pupils had dilated, giving me the expression of a hunter.
Still staring at me, Harry ran the tip of his tongue over my nipple and then grabbed my left breast and sucked on it.
Fuck!
My body was almost on fire, I could feel my panties getting wet as I moved my legs. By the hour, I was stroking his curls, closing my eyes for his sucking and biting my lips.
"I won't be able to take much longer, babe," Harry commented leaving me with a kiss, soon his fingers were on the belt of my pants that had been thrown along with it on the floor of his room.
Harry's excitement was evident, but looking at his underwear made me long for him like never before. He stood in front of me, he ran to a cupboard behind him and came up with packets of condoms.
Yes, plural.
And with that, his boxer shorts were flying across the room, his cock bouncing with the tip facing up, it was glowing from the liquid of arousal. How I would like to suck him and taste him, but apparently his plans were to satisfy this desire.
I took off my white lace panties with a little difficulty since I was not thinking very well, considering that someone might miss us and he might be my boss somehow.
I held my panties up and soon Harry practically flew on top of me, his hot swollen tip was rubbing up and down my folds. We both let out guttural moans at the sensation.
"Oh God, (Y/N), you're soaking wet...all for me?" he whimpered, his hands digging into the mattress on either side of my head.
Before I could reason out a convenient response, Harry had put on a condom and was already partially inside my cavity.
It was surreal to feel his cock stretching inside me, a sensation I had never felt before. He was really good in bed, nothing compared to the college guys. He was gentle as he tried to go a little further, his throat let out delicious moans that I could listen to forever.
I moaned as he reached bottom, my legs again around his waist, begging him to go even deeper.
"All right, babe? You're fucking tight and hot!" He whispered, placing a kiss on each side of my cheeks.
"Yes!" I almost choked, "Please, H. It feels so good!"
Harry let out a small giggle, I felt his member pull out of me a little before entering again and again and again.
My moans became a little more audible as they blended with the sounds of our skins slapping against each other. With each thrust from Harry, his member was able to reach an undiscovered location that made my head spin and involuntary smiles formed on my lips.
It was all too splendid to be real. I forced myself to open my eyes and I just had the sight of heaven, Harry's mouth was ajar, his pink lips hung open in a perfect "O," shaggy curls framing his face. His bright eyes pierced yours with such love and admiration that it was almost irresistible.
For a small moment of courage, I put my hands on his face and pulled him into a kiss, Harry's lips were addictive. He reciprocated with more desire than I could imagine, his tongue filling my lips eagerly. His hips still bumped against mine, at times I squeezed him internally and felt Harry's arms waver.
With each thrust, which became faster and faster, my body's movements clamored harder and harder for him, making me pull him deeper inside me. His member kept slamming into that special place, eliciting the only moans of real pleasure from me. I wouldn't last long, and Harry knew it. Harry kept ripping compliments about me and my body "I want to have you all night, baby..." He would say so that only I could hear "So hot, so perfect, I want you so bad..."
I didn't know how to respond, so I just grabbed his hair tighter, pulling making him thrust harder against me, being fierce and relentless.
All my mind and body wanted was for this night to never end, and so did the sensations it caused.
I rolled over as hard as I could and it seemed that Harry had gone deeper, his moans became longer, he had picked up momentum by pulling the sheets off the bed and sinking his feet into it, I would be limp by tomorrow, but it would be worth it.
A trembling began to take over me, the butterflies in my stomach took a long walk there, my toes had curved, the liberating feeling was coming. My hands, which before scratched his back, went back to his scalp, which I pulled with each shock that passed through there.
I could feel Harry shivering too, my walls involuntarily tightened around his member, which made Harry face me and leave a hickey on my neck. "Come with me babe, I know you're almost there, let go..."
And that was all it took, I felt the euphoric feeling taking over my body quickly, the roller coaster descending, the chill in my stomach encompassing. I twisted my body on the bed, arching my spine and biting my lip. I shivered quickly and my legs fell open to my sides, Harry launched three more thrusts and lay over my body moaning into mine hearing a long delicious "Oooh". I could feel his cock thickening inside the condom and his hips working for the last few times.
🎵🎵🎵🎵
A month after our historic fuck, Harry and I had not exchanged another word. It had been a fuck, period. No one needed to know anything about it, nor did we need to prolong it.
I was sketching Harry's outfit for the next week, the tour was already in North America. I remember that the outfit that Harry had worn after that night, during the show, got me a notice in the newspapers and a call for Gucci. Yes, Gucci had called me, but I couldn't leave the team now, so they gave me the responsibility of designing the next suit that Harry would wear for their shoe promo, because according to them, I knew Harry from head to toe.
And I really did.
It was late at night, I was in my hotel room, until Mitch called me to a meeting in the private area.
There were the guys from the band, Jeff and Harry. I sat down next to Jeff and we started talking, I felt Harry looking at me while Mitch stroked his head that was lying on his shoulder.
I decided to just ignore it because it might be me. Jeff and I saw that we have some friends in common on Instagram, which sparked the conversation.
"I remember Natalie came out loaded when we played 'Never have I ever' , she was quiet of the group but had done things..." Jeff blinked putting away his laptop on a small table next to the couch.
"There you go, I think we should play!" Sarah pronounced and everyone nodded and I felt my hands sweat. I always got screwed in this game.
Jeff's assistant brought a bottle of Wiskey, we sat down on the rug in the room and Mitch picked up a bottle he had used.
Harry was on the opposite side from me, set up was me, Jeff on my right, Peter his assistant, Adam, Charlottie, Harry, Sarah and Mitch.
Peter had handed out cups and opened the huge bottle of whiskey.
I had taken only one which was from "I never had sex in college," until Mitch asked the crucial question.
"I've never had sex with anyone on the team!" He and Sarah toasted, drawing laughs from everyone, and Harry turned the liquid over in one gulp.
No, I wasn't going to throw it all away, not now and not ever. I crossed my legs and continued to hold the glass of liquid. I looked everywhere but at Harry, who was waiting for me to drink.
"Spin the bottle, Adam!" I suggested and the question mark in everyone's expression fell apart to form an exclamation point.
They knew now.
🎵🎵🎵🎵
The bottle game lasted three more rounds, Harry said he needed to rest and wished everyone a good night by shaking hands, except me.
Damned Aquarian.
I waited a bit and went after him as soon as he did, I ran to the elevator and up to the presidential suite. Harry was walking with his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants and his jacket also black.
"Hazz..." I jogged down the long hallway and he even looked at me, swiping the card on his door opening it.
"What is it, (Y/N)?" A little breathless, I stopped at his door and he was staring at me now "After a month you decided to talk to me alone?"
Harry left the door open, and I entered the room and closed it. He had sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers intertwined and his legs spread.
"I thought it was all right!" I started in a mild tone, I didn't know how he would react. "You know Harry, I am a person who works for you, that was wrong!" I sighed moving closer "It was wrong for me and for you!"
His eyebrows frowned and he let out a sarcastic laugh "I know what's wrong or right, (Y/N), you don't have to tell me that." He shook his head scratching his chin "I could have sworn sneaking out after mind-blowing sex like that was a guy thing, but you've outdone yourself!"
My heart was beating fast, Harry had never been rude to anyone in front of me, I had been the first and it was scary.
"Was that right for you? I barely made the team and I'm already in your bed! Understand my side, Harry! I may have broken the contract or whatever!" I started pacing back and forth trying to explain myself.
"It was right yes, because after a while I felt something good besides some orgasm, I put all my emotions and feelings there because I thought you were different, you were the woman of my dreams! But I was very wrong, definitely!" Harry stood up and approached me "Do you really think I would let someone fire you for that? It was something concensual! I wanted you from the moment I saw you with Lambert! Everyone on my team knows my every quirk, they know I was and still am in love with you!" Harry shouted in his English accent, he wanted to kill me.
"You know what? Fuck you and your little story! If you wanted something, you'd fake it with me and not expose it to everyone on the team!" I roared in anger and walked out slamming the door to his room.
🎵🎵🎵🎵
I couldn't sleep a wink and it was after four o'clock in the morning. Harry's words were rattling around in my head, was he really feeling something for me? It hadn't been a one-night thing? But he should have said something! I am no guesser!
Already in bed, I decided to put on a podcast to go to sleep, but as soon as I unplugged my cell phone from the charger, Harry's name flashed on the screen in a call.
I rolled my eyes and rejected the call.
I plugged in my headphones and put on the Spotify podcast, but in less than 30 seconds it was interrupted.
I took a deep breath and accepted the call.
"What is it Harry?" I asked removing my headphones and placing the cell phone close to my face.
"Babe, I need you." I heard his mellifluous voice. "You weren't wrong, I couldn't have done that, but I swear, I swear..." he repeated emphasizing, which was normal since he probably started drinking again after I left his room "That I imagined you would flip that shot and I would kiss you in front of everyone like I've been dreaming about for the last thirty days..." Harry sobbed and I felt slightly guilty, he imagined it would be a movie scene...
"Harry..." I got out of bed and pulled on my robe "You should have sat down and talked to me, I'm not like them, I know how to talk and get a yes or no." I tied the robe around my waist, walked to the door and unlocked it.
In front of me was a teary-eyed Harry, his face flushed with a beak. "Forgive me! Can we talk?"
"Later." I pulled him into my room.
Within minutes, I had him pinned to me by jumping into his lap, Harry sat on the bed and pressed my waist against his.
"I'm going to tell everyone you're mine!" He growled slowly biting my neck and jaw.
My hands and his worked together, Harry sat in the middle of the bed right after putting on a condom, I sat naked on his lap feeling his cock slowly entering me, I loved him and wanted him too, I wished he would be fast and strong like last time.
"Faster, Hazz," I moaned, my eyes rolling back as my nails slid up Harry's arms and down the back of his neck and back.
His head was propped between my breasts as he kept up the effort to go deep, burying his cock in me in more violent strokes.
On an impulse, Harry laid me down on the bed, his right arm supporting his body while the other was pulling his member out of me, rubbing the swollen head against my slippery spot. He knew how to tease me very well.
"Oh, (Y/N)... I've dreamed every night of this pussy!" he murmured "Of my cock drowning in it, taking all your sanity, leaving you only pleasure!"
His hand landed on my thigh and he changed the angle of his thrusts, making a pornographic moan come from my lips.
He had done it again.
"Is this the spot, baby?" he asked, his voice deep as he concentrated on hitting that spot over and over again, the pleasure was overwhelming and all I could do was nod, encouraging Harry to continue.
"I love having you like this, love." Harry moaned, looking up into my face in complete pleasure with each thrust he launched.
His cock was reaching places inside me I never knew existed and points I never knew could cause so much pleasure.
Like last time, my body shook a little harder and more deliciously, as Harry said the word 'mine' with each thrust, ending our reconciliation sex.
Harry had his body on top of mine, my legs still entwined around his waist, my heart was pounding hard, my breathing ragged, and a giant fatigue falling over me.
"Babe?" Harry called out to me and I just shook my head with my eyes closed. "You'll need to have two glasses of wiskey."
He left a kiss on each of my breasts, I pulled his face to me giving him a lingering kiss, I opened my eyes and stared into his "I'll take a whole bottle if I have to."
I loved Harry's smile, but I loved Harry's post fuck smile even more.
talk with me | masterlist
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HIII I was wondering if you could do a one shot smut thing of Y/N and H getting high at a party and then like you sneak away and have a rough quicke? No pressure
based off this ask!! i most certainly can do this, hope you enjoy. i totally got carried away with the weed parts, but i couldn’t help it. i love writing bad ass girl characters who know what the hell they’re doing when it comes to smoking lol.
tw: smut, posessive shit ig, yeah thats it, idk how to do tw
Harry’s tight grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you balanced as people on the make-shift dance floor are being knocked into you from every direction. Niall’s house party had definitely gone a little overboard, but you’re still enjoying yourself even if the night had only just begun.
The room smells of sweat and alcohol and you can almost see the condensation on the expensively decorated walls from all the bodies crowding the place. Colored strobe lights are the only thing illuminating the expensive penthouse living room and the bass from the speakers can be felt through the floor and up your feet.
Harry doesn’t enjoy these parties as much as you, and while you were both homebodies at heart, you really did enjoy just letting loose and having fun once every now and then.
You knock into your boyfriend’s body as he abruptly stops to slide open the balcony door. You had only just arrived and said hello to a few guests, stopping at the bar top after Niall begged to do group shots, before Harry was trying to escape the crowded living space.
As he pulls you onto the balcony over looking the Colorado city below, the cool night air hits your skin and it feels like you can sigh of relief, finally getting a chance to air the sweat off your body that had so quickly accumulated.
“Styles!” You hear to your left, both you and Harry turning your heads to see Liam and Zayn, as well as another party goer you hadn’t met before, sitting around a glass top table with a few ashtrays on top. “I told you he’d show.” Liam smacks Zayn’s shoulder who is puffing a blunt between his lips, not paying attention to Liam.
Harry leads you to the table, sitting in a chair first before pulling you sideways onto his lap, lingering his hands on your thighs. “In the flesh.” Harry announces his entrance with a forced smile.
Liam flicks his lighter on the dull end of his joint, rekindling the flame, and then tosses it to Harry, who catches it amazingly in one hand. You lace your arm around his neck and connect your hands on the side of his shoulder, hanging onto him like a koala bear. The contact causes Harry to lean forward and press a quick kiss to your cheek, almost out of reflex, before reaching into his front pocket of his very loosely buttoned shirt.
He pulls out a joint and brings it to his mouth, letting it hang between his lips while he cups the flame from the lighter in his hands and brings it to the end of the joint. He lights it and lets a the first puff of smoke leave his mouth before he inhales a deep breath, the cherry butt lighting up brighter, and then he’s blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth after holding it for a second.
The other boys at the table have already drifted into their own conversation, so it feels quite peaceful between you and Harry at the moment.
One of your favorite things to do with Harry on special occasions is smoke. Well, smoke and then fuck. You both are the kind to get super turned on when you’re high and it works perfectly for nights when you both just want to relax and spend time together. You never do it too often, neither of you wanting to rely on drugs or sex for any parts of the relationship, but it is definitely a sweet treat when the occasion arises.
He repeats his movements from before, inhaling the smoke, holding it and exhaling it, keeping his eyes focused on his hands as he taps a small amount of ash off the end of it and onto the concrete patio flooring.
To hell with the three ashtrays on the table, right?
His eyes flick up to yours, silently asking if you want some so you nod. He watches the joint as he places it between your lips, your two finger instinctively coming up to grasp the joint from him. As you puff on the joint, Harry’s olive green eyes trace over your face, repeatedly landing on your eyes and lips.
You take it out of your mouth, jumping at the chance to attach your lips to his, not wanting to wait any longer to kiss him. He inhales the smoke for your lungs, quite literally taking your breath away, and when he pulls back to release the smoke, tilting his head straight up to the sky, you can’t help but let your mind wander as your eyes trace over his feeble neck.
“Tha’s supposed to be my move.” He says as he looks back at you with a grin, but you just shrug and smile softly.
“Sue me.” You tell him under your breath and you can’t help your eyes going back to his lips.
“You wanna go-” Harry starts saying quietly, inching your faces closer before he gets unknowingly interrupted.
“So Styles,” The man that I do not know starts saying, which makes Harry clench his jaw as he turns his attention to the cock block. “How’d your bet go on that game the other night?”
The conversation steers straight to sports topics, and you begin to find your only entertainment in the weed on the table, you and Harry quickly finishing the previously rolled joint. You turn your back to Harry so you can face the table, making sure to swivel your hips in just the right place to tease him, which has him harshly gripping your hip as he tries to remain focused on the conversation at hand.
You take your time as you roll a blunt with the supplies on the table, trying your best to keep it all together in one piece. Harry always makes fun of your scrawny blunts, but you’ve been getting a lot better at rolling, especially with his help.
You follow all the steps to curate the best blunt you can, focusing so intently that the conversation in the background has drowned out. You unpack a swisher sweet, unroll it, empty most of the tobacco, grind up the weed on hand, pepper it into the tobacco paper, and finish it by licking the seal shut, slightly crisping it with your lighter.
Once you’re finished and your astonishing masterpiece is complete, you lean back on Harry’s chest, exhaling with relief. He wraps his arm around your stomach while still keeping his attention on whatever they’re speaking about, even though Harry is barely talking.
You hold up your freshly rolled blunt in his eye line, forcing him to give you attention. “Tell me that’s not the best blunt I’ve ever rolled.” You snicker while twirling the thin stick in your finger tips.
He hums in response, the sound going straight into your ears from his chest since you’re pressed so close together. “Beautiful craftsmanship.” He applauds as he raises one of his hands to take the blunt from you and inspect it more closely. You drop your hands to your chest, reaching in front of you to grab a lighter from the table. “I’d say you have one hell of a teacher.”
You sit up and shuffle around to be sat sideways on his lap again to share the joint. You enjoy the blunt in comfortable silence this time, just taking in each other’s motions and movements while passing it back and forth. You can tell you’re both way more high than before you smoked this one, but it’s only adding to the intensity between you two.
Harry has excused himself from the conversation at this point and by the time the blunt is finished you get back around to what Harry was going to ask before he was interrupted. “How about I take you inside,” He says as he lightly traces a piece of hair behind your ear, “And find an empty room,” He leans in and presses his lips to the base of your throat. You put your hands on the back of his neck, holding yourself against him. “An empty room with a lock,” He adds before he kisses your neck once again. You cock your head back, giving him more room to explore. “And fuck your pretty pussy absolutely senseless, yeah?” He says with a gruff tone, finishing his run on sentence staring directly into your eyes.
Your mouth has gone dry, and while it may be cotton mouth from the weed, you know that it’s really from the effects he has on you. “I think we could make that work.” You whisper back, slipping off Harry’s lap and grabbing his hand as he stands.
You don’t even bother saying anything to the other guys at the table as Harry walks past you and leads you back inside. The pounding from the speakers turns into ear blisteringly loud music as you enter back into the room.
Harry moves his hand to your waist, encapsulating you as he leads you to the stairs on the far wall. You feel your heart rate pick up and your breathing speed as you get closer to the array of bedroom doors.
Your boyfriend’s grip on your waist stays sturdy as he walks to the closest door, spinning you and pining you against it, not even making it through the closed door. Luckily the hallway is empty and mostly quiet, apart from the music, so you aren’t worried about being caught. His breath cascades down your face and his added height on you has you looking up at him through your lashes.
While you still have the confidence, you push against his chest and flip yourselves around, pining him against the door this time. He smirks, finding your small bravery cute. “Don’t get used to that, doll.” He says lowly into your ear.
You move your hand to the door knob and twist it open, keeping your eyes on Harry’s, but as the door swings open you hear a high pitched giggle and a man’s voice shouting ‘occupied!’ but it’s too late, cause you’ve already seen the fit couple doogy-styling it up on the bare mattress.
Harry snaps his head around to look into the room as you stand with wide eyes and a shocked expression, frozen in embarrassment. Once Harry has the slightest glance at what you’re staring at, he whips his head right back around and places his palm over your eyes. You quickly do the same, trying to cover his eyes while not seeing anything and as you get your hand in position, Harry’s body is pushing you forward and slamming the door shut behind him.
You stand in silence, still covering each other’s eyes as you start to giggle. And the giggle turns into you both full on heaving up laughs while blinding each other outside the door.
If anyone walked by right now, surely they’d think you two were insane, but neither of you can control your chuckles as you take in what just happened.
“Y/N,” Harry says as your laughs start to subside. “I’m going to remove my hand now, and I want to never speak about what we just saw.”
You laugh and nod behind his palm. “Agreed.” You say and at that, you both lower your hands to see each other again, which only makes your own giggles release again.
“I believe we were in the middle of something before our intrusion.” He says as he snakes one of his hands to your waist and you place on of his hands on his chest, stepping slightly closer.
“Now were we?” You play dumb with a coy smile. “You might have to refresh my memory.” You tease and he starts backwards walking to another closed door.
This time he knocks and you wait in silence for any sign of human life on the other side, your ears pressed very close to the door. After a second more of silence, Harry slowly creaks open the door, peaking in and once confirming that you’re alone, yanking your arm in the door and shutting it behind you, being very sure to lock it.
Harry’s lips crash against yours and his hands come up to your sides, pulling off the fabric of your top, taking your bra with it, and smoothly yanking his off by the back collar. You fiddle with his pants zipper as he moves his mouth to your neck and starts biting at your collar bone Your breathing increases as you slip your hand into his unbuttoned waist band, rubbing your hand over his cock and squeezing gently. He groans into your mouth before grabbing you by your hips and quite literally throwing you onto the bed like a rag doll.
He discards his pants as he walks over to you, hovering naked over your clothed center. He kissed between your breasts, and then attacks each nipple while undoing the button on your jeans, a small whine coming from your throat as your hand tangles in his head of hair. He releases your pebbled nipple and kisses your stomach once before ripping your jeans and underwear off your legs and onto the floor.
He waists no time grabbing the backs of your thighs and pressing them against your body, devouring your pussy with no warning. You moan harshly into the air, fisting his curls as he stares up at you through his dark eye lashes. “Harry!” You squeak into the air as he nibbles on your clit before adding a finger to the mix, completely mutilating you within seconds.
“Harry, fuck.” You moan into the air, squeezing your eyes shut as you already feel a fast approaching orgasm surfacing. You weren’t used to this quick of a pace, but your body adjusts fairly quickly. “Har- Harry if you k-keep that up I’m gonna-”
He abruptly stops his mouth and pulls back from your center, his chin shiny with your arousal. “Don’t cum til I say so, pet. I mean it.” He says with deep conviction in his voice despite the cute name,
Harry then grabs your hips and rolls you over so that your ass is to him. He yanks on your hips and props them up so that his hips are lined up with yours. Without warning, he’s pushing into you from behind, sinking all the way in, erupting a moan from both of your chests. “Shit, Y/N”
He remains still for a moment, letting you adjust before he’s slowly pulling out and pushing right back in and bottoming out inside you. He gradually picks up the pace until he’s rocking into you with aggression. His hand slides up your back and latches into your hair, pulling your body back to be flush with his chest.
“Who’s pussy is this?” He growls in your ear as his hips pivot up into you, the new angle reaching a whole new spot inside you.
“Yours.” You pant out, breathless from the mind-blowing pace he’s managing to keep up. “My pussy’s yours, Harry.”
“Good.” He rasps as he drops you back down onto the bed and pulling out.
As you lay still for a second trying to catch your breath, Harry comes and lays right next to you. You twist your brows in confusion, but your questions are answered when he slips his hand under your stomach on top of the mattress and rolls you onto his chest.
He wraps one arm around your shoulders, keeping the top half of your body locked against his, and he uses the other hand to guide his cock back into you. He props his feet up on the bed for leverage and starts thrusting up into your hips, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room. Your thighs are hooked onto the outside of his, making you so wide and open for him.
“Oh, God. Oh my God, Harry.” You whine, resting your head back in the crook of his neck as he wraps one of his arms around your stomach.
Since the side of your head is pressed so close to his face, his moans and grunts filter straight into your ear, sending tingles down your spine.
“Being such a good girl fo’ me.” Harry says breathlessly into your ear. “Takin’ my cock so well.” His accent getting thicker as he speaks lowly.
“Feels so good, H.” You whine, turning your face into his neck and sucking on a spot above his throat. “So fucking good.”
He slides his hand up from your stomach to your mouth, sticking two fingers on your tongue and you involuntarily suck on them, lathering them in saliva.
“Does my little slut wanna cum now?” He asks, slipping his hand from your shoulders to your throat and squeezing at the sides. You nod incessantly in response with his fingers still tangled in his mouth. “Beg.” He taunts you as he drags his coated fingers down your stomach, to your heat, and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit.
You moan loudly in response. “Please, please Harry. Please let me cum baby.” You beg, itching for your release. You’re practically whining as you beg, your toes curling and thighs startling to tremble.
“Go on, cum for me darling.” He allows as he continues his assault on your clit, his thrusts getting sharper as he nears his end too.
You finally allow yourself to reach the peak you’d been chasing, your orgasm ripping through your insides. You thighs shake and you grab the sheets with one hand and death grip Harry’s curls behind you with the other hand. Your eyes feel like they’re rolling into the back of your head and the moans of Harry coming with you only spur on the moment. Your back arches as much as possible while still in his hold, and your mouth gapes open.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, Y/N.” Harry’s grip on your throat absentmindedly tightens and he’s tilting his forehead into the side of your head as his heavy breaths warm your cheek. “Holy shit.”
Harry continues to play with your sensitive nerves as he slows his hip movements to a stop and you both relax your muscles, staggeringly attempting to catch your breath.
He slowly pulls out from beneath you and you flinch from sensitivity. He scoots over slightly so that he can get out from under you. He’s still panting as he grabs his boxers from the floor, raising them to your heat and wiping at it softly in attempt to clean you up.
You smile at him, your boyfriend always putting you first, even if it means he has cum stained boxers.
Once the majority of the mess is cleaned up he plops right back down on the bed next to you, both of you turning to face the other with a small smile.
“You’re my everything.” He tells you and leans forward, connecting his lips with yours as you both smile at each other.
a/n; yuh hoped you like it. didn’t know how to end it and i didn’t want it to be some ‘i love you’ bullshit so heres a cringier off brand line to end it. lmk what you think, love you all!
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I just can’t with him
Fuck me sideways
#sexyasfuck#sexyandheknowsit#i love him#harry styles is perfect#harry edward styles#lightsup#i fucking love him#fuck me sideways#but he looks fucking hot#i feel attacked
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