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freedomfireflies · 4 months

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Better Not Pout*

Summary: The one where Harry isn't leaving until he gets what he really came for.

You.

Word Count: 10.6k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, violence, guns, gunplay, exhibitionism (This one-shot is a bit darker, so please only read if you feel comfortable! 💞)

December 24th, 1945.

The streets of Chicago are cold. Windy. Dark. Everyone is either at home, visiting loved ones, or spending their Christmas Eve at the one place they know they’ll be welcome.

The Bees Knees – the renowned, underground speakeasy – is rather sparkling tonight. The customers continue to bustle in, some here for the booze, some here for the atmosphere and warmth, and some for the entertainment.

You.

You’re one of the establishments best performers, three nights of the week. Employed by none other than Johnny Winters himself to sing for the lost souls of Chicago as they drown their worries in a bottle of whiskey.

You quite like your job, and the people you work with. Milton, who tends the bar, always has a compliment to lend, offering you engaging small talk between sets or any new mixes he might make.

And Johnny isn’t so bad. But perhaps you’re a bit biased, seeing as he is your fiancé. But more than that, he’s one of the most powerful men in all of town. And considerably wealthy, which you suppose doesn’t exactly hurt.

But he’s also kind. Giving. And so very attentive. He spends every second he’s not working with you. Doting on you, showing you off to all of his friends. And having such a handsome man on your arm is certainly not the worst thing.

Tonight, however, Johnny is nowhere to be found. Which you don’t consider to be too terribly odd, given how much work he mentioned he’d be catching up on.

Even still, he hates to miss your performances, and insisted that you keep a part of him with you as you take center stage tonight in the small bar.

That part happens to be in the form of a stunning red, silk dress that was gifted to you for this very occasion. It sits on your frame like it was always meant to be yours, hugging every desirable curve, and showcasing just enough skin to taunt the imagination of those in the audience.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful, and you walk up the steps tonight with pride. Shoulders back and painted lips poised with your first song.

The few gentlemen scattered across the main floor holler when the spotlight finds you, and you offer your signature smile.

“Evening, gentleman,” you call as the pianist begins behind you. “How are you all doing tonight?”

A few whistles are offered that make you laugh, and just like that…the show begins.

Santa Claus Came in the Spring is always a favorite, and you croon the festive lyrics while the live band follows your lead.

And even though the crowd is rather dull and distracted, you have a blast. You feel comfortable in this role and in the way their eyes drink you in. Even if their attention drifts between you, their drinks, and the cigars.

In fact, you get so swept up in your act that you hardly notice the door open or the tall, lanky stranger that slinks in from the cold.

But when his head lifts, and his eyes find yours, you feel a hitch in your throat.

Unfortunately, he looks away all too quickly, pulling off his trench coat before moving along the shadows toward the far end of the bar.

He goes unnoticed by those around him, yet your attention follows him all the way to the booth that he settles in. And it stays even after he’s leaned back, gotten comfortable, and pulled a cigarette from his rather expensive looking suit pocket.

But even though your focus has drifted, you don’t miss a single beat of the song. After all, you could sing it in your sleep, and this habit serves you well as the intriguing stranger finally shifts into the light and allows you a better look at his face.

He’s…stunning. Absolutely beautiful, with his slicked back curls, sharp jaw, and pointed nose. And he’s lighting the end of a cigarette with what you can only call practiced precision before perching it between his two, crimson-colored lips.

Rings adorn his fingers as he holds the nicotine to his mouth, inhaling a long drag before exhaling the dark smoke from his lungs.

Yet unlike the other patrons in the bar, this man seems to be rather put together. He’s not missing any teeth, his skin isn’t stained with dirt or grease, and his clothes appear to be rather new. It’s quite the upgrade from the usual appearance you’ve grown used to, and you can’t help but feel rather relaxed.

And it’s now that you realize that this striking stranger seems to be watching you much like you’re watching him. Studying your dress, your silhouette, the way you grip the microphone stand. He takes in each detail presented before him with what looks to be wonder, and your cheeks instantly grow warm.

Still, you carry on with the ballad, making your way through the final chorus and the last few notes as the band plays you out with a flourish.

The few men in front of the stage clap, and you smile gratefully as you nod your thanks and call out your appreciation.

Jingle Bells is next, and a few more people join in on the fun this time around. They clink their glasses together or belt out the lyrics a few seconds too late and wildly off-key.

Even still, it’s rather fun as you continue on with your set before finally wrapping it up with a high note that’s accompanied by a rather lively trumpet solo.

And once it’s all over, the room bursts into applause. You wave to the growing audience, taking a quick bow before gesturing toward the band. Offering them their due praise which the crowed quickly obliges.

But you notice the man in the booth keeps his expression indifferent as he continues to watch you exit the stage and make your way to the bar. He doesn’t applaud your performance or even offer a smile of encouragement. He merely takes another hit of his cigarette and throws his arm over the back of his seat. A position you imagine is intended to display dominance more than it is to find comfort.

Truth be told, you find it rather unnerving. He doesn’t seem to be here for the alcohol or the company. Perhaps he’s only here to get out of the cold or perhaps he’s avoiding his home.

Either way, his focus stays only with you, and you feel a sharp chill run down your spine as you turn to the counter and flag down Milton’s attention.

You ask for a drink and request that he tell Johnny that you’ll be waiting in his office until he arrives.

He quickly agrees, preparing the beverage for you before jutting his chin toward the silent stranger.

“Want me to have him escorted out?” he asks, but you only smile as you shake your head.

“No need, I’m sure he’s harmless.” You take the crystal glass and tip it toward him in thanks. “Besides, the attention is rather nice.”

Milton nods his understanding and you leave it at that, taking your drink toward the hallway just off the corner of the room.

You sip leisurely as you stroll to Johnny’s office, picking up the edge of your long gown so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The sounds of the crowd grow quieter and quieter with each step you take, and soon, it’s nothing but silence.

After retrieving the key Johnny insisted you keep on you at all times, you slip open the door, and make your way inside.

It’s quite dark, given the time of night and lack of lighting. He’s only got three lamps in the room, one by the window, one on the shelf, and one on his desk.

Right beside a photo of you.

Getting your photograph taken is quite the privilege, but Johnny insisted he have a vision of you in his office at all times. And you couldn’t help but indulge him, allowing him to dress you up and place you in front of the large contraption one Sunday afternoon in spring.

It’s his favorite thing in the entire world, and he mentions it constantly. Commenting on your beauty or your ethereal outfit. You know he’s only trying to embarrass you, but it’s still rather flattering to hear.

You grin to yourself as you take a seat in the large chair behind the wooden table. Downing the rest of the contents in your glass before setting it down and taking a glance around the large space.

Vaguely, you hear footsteps approaching just outside the door. Echoing through the hall as your grin grows a bit wider.

And as the knob turns, you expect to see the handsome face of your Johnny.

What you don’t expect, however, is the green-eyed devil and his quiet charm.

He’s followed you. You assume this immediately, and your heart leaps into your throat as he steps inside…and shuts the door behind him.

A tense silence settles between you as you slowly sit up and force in a quiet breath. “Hello,” you call quietly.

The sound of your unsteady voice seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling up as the burning cigarette sits tucked between his lips. “Hello, mama.”

You feel your lashes flutter. “Can…can I help you?”

“I’m looking for your fiancé,” he says, and his voice is low. Deep. And you believe you catch just a hint of an English accent. “This is in fact his office, is it not?”

You hesitate, unsure whether or not to disclose such information to a stranger. “It…yes. Yes, but he’s not here right now. Perhaps you could come back later?”

“Later,” he repeats, almost thoughtfully as his head tilts. Then, he tsks. “See, I’m afraid later just doesn’t work for me. I need to speak with him right now. It’s quite urgent, and I’d like to finish this up and be home to my lover by midnight.”

“Oh…” You shift a bit in your seat and hope he doesn’t notice how nervous you’ve become. “Well, I would love to help, but I don’t believe I know when he’ll be in.”

He considers this for a moment before striding further into the room. Eyes tracking every tremble of your fingers and heave of your chest. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?” he murmurs, placing both hands on the desk and leaning closer.

You nod.

“Your boy Johnny owes me money,” he whispers. “And I’m here to collect.”

And now you understand. Now you know why he’s here. Because even though his tone is friendly, it can’t disguise the threat you know lingers underneath.

“Oh,” you whisper back, and he hums.

“Exactly. And I’m a pretty reasonable guy. Decent. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He begins to smirk behind the cigarette. “If he’s not here within the next five minutes…you and I will find another way.”

The truth is, you don’t really know too much about the financial side of Johnny’s affairs and business. You know he has plenty of money, but you don’t know what he does with it. Or where he keeps it.

And if this alluring stranger seems to think you’ll be his key…you’re afraid he’ll be mistaken.

“Problem, Doll?” He seems smug, and it makes your skin crawl. “M’not scaring you, am I?”

The answer is obvious to you both, but you force yourself straighter and attempt to appear calm. “Not at all, sir. I only want to help.”

"Mm? Good girl,” he mumbles, eyes flicking down to your painted red lips. “Knew you’d behave for me.”

Your heart is hammering inside of your chest. You’re unsure what to do now. Do you ask him to leave? Do you scream for help? Do you call the police?

And where the hell is Johnny?

He should be here by now, especially after promising to wrap up his meeting early in order to catch your last performance before Christmas. He’s always here. One of your biggest fans and greatest protectors.

The only thing you can truly think to do now is attempt to call him. You figure the police won’t get here in time, but at least if this gentleman can be assured that Johnny is on his way, he won’t be as inclined to act rashly.

However, the moment your fingers lift from the desk in order to reach for the phone, the stranger reaches for something, too.

In a matter of seconds, he’s wrapping his hand around the barrel of a gun, pulling it from his back pocket, and aiming it straight at your head. Cocking it loudly as you gasp and withdraw your arm as quickly as possible.

“What are you doin’, hm, mama?” There’s a haughty condescension in his sneer, laced with just the faintest disappointment. “Thought you were gonna be good.”

“I…I was just going to call him,” you stammer. “I know you’re in a hurry.”

The stranger studies you now, that familiar smirk beginning to fade as his attention flicks across your face. Perhaps he suspects a lie or perhaps he merely doesn’t trust you, but truth be told, you know better than to try and pull a fast one on him.

Finally, he plucks his cigarette from between his lips before tossing it to the floor and nodding at you. “Yeah? Go on, then,” he instructs, reposition the barrel at your chest. “Call your little pretty boy. Tell him he’s got a visitor.”

With a racing pulse, you once again slowly reach for the telephone, eyeing the gun carefully as you scoot closer.

You’re careful not to make any sudden moments. Hesitant to even look at him for fear of upsetting him, but your timid demeanor only entertains him further.

He simply chuckles as he slowly makes his way over to your side of the desk. Snatching up the phone just before you can reach for it and handing it to you almost cockily.

Curious, you glance up. That soft green in his eye is almost alluring, even despite the circumstance. Still, he reeks of nicotine and expensive cologne, and you lean back in an attempt to put as much space between you as you can.

He smiles. “I’m gonna watch you dial,” he tells you calmly. “Make sure you keep your word. Okay, Doll?”

Posed like a question, although you both know you don’t exactly have a choice. And you'd likely point this out if you were just a touch braver, but nevertheless, you nod. Agreeing to his terms as you take the phone and begin to dial.

As the seconds go by, you feel him watching you closely while the line rings. Leaving you to desperately await the sound of your sweet Johnny’s voice. A sound you’ve never needed more than in this moment.

Yet his voice never comes, and your heart sinks to the cold floor blow as you return the phone to the desk.

“He…he must already be on his way,” you murmur, and the man hums.

“You think so?”

You nod weakly.

He takes a seat on the edge of the desk, just inches from your arm before leaning closer. “How much are you willing to bet, hm?” His brow raises. “How sure are you that your precious fiancé will actually save you tonight?”

You feel trapped by him now. The closer he moves, the faster your heart pounds. You have nowhere to run, no personal space to disappear into.

But you only have to hold on for just a little longer. Johnny will come for you. He always does.

“Incredibly sure,” you respond, ignoring the slight waver in your voice. “He said he would be, so he will.”

The man considers this before clicking his tongue. “All right. Then how about I make you another deal, yeah? For every minute he’s late, and for every minute he leaves you here unattended…I’ll put an extra bullet through his head.”

A sharp chill runs down your spine, skin growing hot and prickly, but you force your expression to remain unfazed. “And why would you do that if you need him so badly?”

The gentleman laughs now. A sound that would almost be charming if he weren’t so vile. “Because I don’t need your precious Johnny,” he answers calmly. “I just need what’s in his safe.”

And despite the danger you’re in and despite your better judgment, your features scrunch into a grimace as you scoff, “Oh, how pathetic.”

Your reaction loosens his smile.

“Truly, how incredibly pathetic to come all the way down here at this time of night – and on Christmas Eve – just to break into his safe,” you huff. “Honestly. He won’t give you a damn thing. And you have absolutely no business to come storming in here and—”

You don’t get the chance to finish the rest of your furious scolding before he’s suddenly standing to his feet and wrapping his fingers around your arm.

Instantly, you’re yanked from your chair and shoved against the bookcase just behind you. Hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs as he traps you there, leaning in so close, his nose nearly brushes your own.

“I’d be careful how you fucking speak to me, mama,” he seethes quietly, yet even still, there’s just an air of pleasure. “Because you might not get the chance to do it again.”

He’s desperate to scare you. Desperate to see you cry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you suck in a sharp breath, and do the one thing you can think to do:

You spit.

The collection of saliva just misses his eye, landing on his cheek with a rather wet splat until the amusement fades and fury takes its place.

His fingers leave your arm and find your throat, curling around the delicate skin and forcing your head up as he begins to chuckle darkly.

“So, that’s how you wanna play, hm, Doll?” Another tsk. “You wanna be bad? Wanna test my fucking patience?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, yet for some reason, you don’t feel as frightened as you did before. Because there’s this look in his eye – this hunger. And even though his grip is tight…you feel oddly safe.

“Better find a way to keep this pretty little mouth shut,” he says next, head cocking to the left almost curiously. “Or I’ll have to shut it for you.”

His attention returns to your mouth, fingers slowly slipping up toward your chin until he can brush is thumb over the painted fibers of your lips.

Just enough to taunt you yet startle you all in the same second.

“Maybe,” you finally breathe before jerking your head away from his cruel touch. “If you knew how.”

The cocky grin widens as his hand immediately returns to your neck. “Still disobeying me, hm?” he nearly purrs. “Guess I could always just squeeze this sweet, little throat to keep you quiet, yeah? Feel your pretty pulse beneath my fingertips. Feel the life drain from your body…watch the light go out in your eyes.”

You take in a strained inhale, and he makes a sound that almost sounds like a groan.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, moving in just a bit closer until his lips are ghosting across yours. “Or maybe…I could put my gun in your mouth. See how chatty you are then, yeah, mama?”

Your chest heaves anxiously, but you find just enough confidence to whisper, “But without your gun, how will everyone know what a tiny cock you have?”

And you’re so proud of yourself. So endlessly pleased with the way you’ve managed to make his smug expression waver, even if he keeps his smirk in place.

“Oh, you think that’s funny,” he snorts as you attempt to bite back a laugh. “Well, you wanna know what I think is funny? I think it’s funny that you said Johnny would be here…and he’s not.”

“He will be,” you retort, a bit firmer. “He will.”

“See…you keep saying that,” he muses, placing one hand on the bookshelf beside your head. Truly trapping you beneath him. “And yet…your noble fiancé still isn’t here to save you.”

You tilt your head back in an attempt to appear stronger, but it doesn’t seem to fool him.

“Are you afraid?” he whispers, chest brushing against yours. “Are you afraid your Johnny won’t be able to keep you safe from the bad man?”

It’s almost hostile, the way he goads you. And yet you can hear just the slightest concern beneath his question.

“Or maybe you’re afraid he can’t pay up,” he continues. “Maybe you’re afraid he’ll have to find another way.”

Suddenly, the grip on your throat constricts. Recapturing your attention.

“Are you gonna be my other way, mama?” he exhales. “You gonna be my consolation prize?”

You feel dizzy. The room is spinning. And you aren’t sure if that’s because of the hold on your neck or the way he’s speaking to you.

However, before you can decide if you’re actually intrigued by his intimidation tactics…the sound of footsteps echo outside through the hall.

Johnny.

It has to be him. You almost need it to be him, and your shoulders unwind as the man glances toward the closed door curiously before finally leaning back.

Then, he grabs onto your arm for a second time, and flings you back toward the chair. Shoving you down and keeping you still.

“You’re gonna sit here and you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hisses softly right as the door swings open. “And then maybe…I just might reward you.”

But you don’t even mind this malicious threat because then you see him. Your fiancé, smiling brightly as his eyes find you before they flick to the man to your right.

For a moment, he seems surprised, seemingly assessing your position and the situation before his grin widens.

“Ah, Mr. Styles,” he calls as he strides into the room, quickly removing his hat and coat. “What a pleasant surprise. Did we have a meeting tonight?”

He seems relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as though he doesn’t view this man as a threat, and you aren’t sure whether to feel relieved or wildly confused. You hadn’t exactly expected him to grab the mysterious guest by the collar and throw him out the window, but you also didn’t expect him to welcome him with open arms.

A strange man is alone with his future wife, in his office, in the middle of the night, and that doesn’t seem to concern him even a little?

Perhaps Johnny is far too friendly for his own good.

The gentleman, in turn, straightens up while subtly slipping the gun behind his back. Tucking it into his belt just out of view before Johnny can catch it. “Not quite,” he says coolly. “I’m here to discuss a bit of unfinished business.”

Your heart sinks, yet Johnny merely nods. “Ah, I see. Well, is there any way this can wait until after Christmas? It’s been a long night, and I’d like to be getting the lovely lady home.”

Now, both of their stares turn to you, and eagerly, you begin to rise from the chair. Grateful for the opportunity to leave this unsettling stranger behind.

Yet before you can even find your footing, the man’s hand is coming down in a firm smack on your shoulder to force you back down.

“I’m afraid the lovely lady isn’t going anywhere,” he replies, and you catch Johnny’s expression fall. “And neither are you. Have a seat.”

Johnny begins to frown. “Look, Harry, whatever business we might have, I’m sure it can—”

“I said, have…a seat,” the man – Harry – repeats a bit brasher. “Yeah? Or things will get a lot worse for your darling fiancé.”

Johnny hesitates, eyes flicking to yours. But he must notice the panicked look you wear because he finally sighs and does as instructed. Taking a seat in the chair just in front of the desk before glancing toward Harry.

Harry nods, almost proudly. “There you go. S’not so hard, is it?”

Johnny’s figure slumps but his lips purse together. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I just want to talk,” Harry says, his smirk returning. “And lucky for you, your schedule just cleared up.”

“Harry—” Johnny begins, leaning closer as though getting ready to stand.

But instantly, Harry is reaching back behind him for the gun, pulling it free, and aiming the barrel straight at his head.

Johnny quickly leans back, eyeing the weapon hesitantly while you gasp and glance up at the stranger pleadingly.

Harry only looks at Johnny. “See, I’m running out of fucking patience. Eight goddamn months I’ve had to listen to you go on and on about this special fucking shipment you got. And now…it’s time to collect.”

Your sweet fiancé understands now. Realizes why this man is here and how real the threat is, and glances back at you almost apologetically.

You merely mouth, “It’s okay.”

Johnny’s eyes flick back to the gun. “I’d be careful waving that thing around. Somebody might get hurt.”

The man merely hums. “Oh, I’m fucking counting on it.”

Now, the office grows quiet. A tense, charged sort of energy that filters between the three of you as Harry begins to walk around the desk.

“So,” he continues, grabbing onto the other free chair in order to spin it around and sit in a straddle, “where’s the safe, Johnny?”

Johnny’s brow raises, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Down at the club, you said you just got a brand new, fancy safe to hold everything from your latest shipment. Practically bragged about it to the whole goddamn bar, yeah? So…where is it?”

With piqued interest, you look between the two men curiously as you await Johnny’s answer. You’ve never really been sure where he gets all his money. You assumed most of it came from the bar and alcohol sales, so you’re rather stumped by what sort of shipment they might be referring to.

However, Johnny isn’t so quick to divulge all his secrets. “And what is it you’re expecting to get out of my safe, Mr. Styles?”

There’s another heavy pause as Harry rests his arms over the back of the seat and whispers, “Everything.”

Instantly, Johnny scoffs. “You think you can storm into my office on Christmas Eve and threaten my fiancé? Threaten me? That you’re entitled to anything you damn well please?” A bitter scoff as he leans back. “You’ll be arrested before morning, and you’ll never see a red fucking cent.”

His retort dangles between them for only a moment as a breath catches in your throat. Pulse racing as you watch the stranger’s reaction closely.

Yet the mystery man doesn’t so much as flinch as he suddenly repositions the gun into the air, aims it just to the left of Johnny’s head, and fires.

The sound is deafening, much like your sharp, shrill shriek as the bullet flies through the air – just missing Johnny’s ear – and lodges into the wall behind him.

Johnny immediately flinches, eyes screwing shut and muscles recoiling before he seems to realize that he remains unharmed.

And once he does, he takes a deep breath, and begins to smirk. “You missed.”

“Did I?” Harry runs his tongue over his bottom lip before re-cocking the gun. “No, see…I never fucking miss. That was your first warning.”

Johnny simply snorts. “Yeah? Well, eat my shit.”

Things move quickly from there.

Harry is instantly on his feet, tossing the chair aside rather angrily before he’s turning to you once more. And you don’t even have a moment to think before you’re being yanked from the seat for a second time and immediately tugged to his chest as he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your temple.

“Where’s the fucking safe, Johnny?” he says again, and you notice Johnny’s face pale.

“Styles,” Johnny murmurs, “you don’t have to do this—”

“The safe,” he seethes. “Where is it? Or do you need a little incentive, huh? Need to see her pretty little brains all over your goddamn floor? Is that what it’s gonna take?”

Poor Johnny doesn’t know what to do. He looks from the gun, to your face, to the arm keeping you hostage.

And you almost feel bad for him, yet you aren’t even afforded the chance for empathy before Harry furiously growls and shoves you in Johnny’s direction.

You stumble across the wooden floor until Johnny can quickly take you into his embrace, keeping you safe from the bad man as you begin to sniffle.

“My love,” he whispers, tightening his hold on your trembling frame while turning you away as if to protect you. “It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”

With a quick nod and a hiccup, you look up and slip your hands around his neck for comfort. “I know.”

He smiles.

It’s Harry’s disgusted sneer that brings you attention back. “Fucking pathetic. Really, mama? This is who you choose to save you?”

Your features fall ever-so-slightly while Johnny begins to pull you behind him, shielding you from the aggravated aggressor. “If you need money so badly, there are plenty of other ways.”

“It’s not just about money,” Harry retorts calmly. “It’s about your money. Yeah? So where’s the fucking safe.”

“None of your goddamn business—”

The reply no sooner leaves his mouth before there’s another gunshot fired into the air.

One of the paintings on the wall falls with a crack and you jump almost two feet into the air, nails scratching down Johnny’s nice shirt.

“Johnny,” you whisper faintly, refusing to let this go on any longer. “Johnny, tell him. Tell him, please. I don’t care about the money; I don’t care about any of it. I just want you. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

The office falls silent as you request hangs in the air, and you feel Johnny take in a deep breath.

“Yeah, Johnny,” Harry adds in a condescending murmur. “She loves you. Don’t make her watch you die. It’d be such a shameful waste of her tears.”

Johnny looks to you, and your expression softens. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Finally, he sighs. “Under the desk.”

Harry’s head whips toward the large table curiously before he frowns. “Where?” he murmurs before repositioning the gun at Johnny’s chest. “I promise you don’t wanna lie to me.”

However, Johnny’s indifferent expression remains. “Under the desk,” he repeats while thrusting his chin toward the massive piece of furniture.

And now Harry seems to understand, although it does little to relax him as he suddenly reaches for you again and yanks you from your lovers’ arms.

“Show me,” he hisses, keeping you hostage again while ushering Johnny forward with the barrel of the weapon. “And don’t be dense.”

And Johnny can do nothing but obey, seemingly defeated while sending you one last remorseful look. Finally moving to lift the desk and pull it back.

The sound of wood scraping against wood is heavy, and it takes him quite a while to relocate the table beneath the window by himself.

But once it’s out of the way, you notice a particular part of the flooring juts out. The rotten board almost askew.

You and Harry lean closer, both magnetized by intrigue as he bends down in order to wrench the board up, revealing the hollow hiding place underneath.

And there you find it. The large, black box with a gold dial in the middle.

He glances up toward Harry, perhaps looking for permission – which Harry quickly gives him – before reaching down to put in the correct combination.

And after a couple seconds of clicking and turning…the door swings open.

Truth be told, you were hoping to find a secret gun that might help you out of this situation, but it seems there are no weapons to be found as Harry shoves you back in order to get a better look.

He no longer seems concerned about Johnny or the possibility that he might attempt to attack because Johnny seems to have given up.

All your dejected fiancé does is straighten up and motion you back to him, watching Harry bend over and reach inside the safe almost uninterestedly.

Your heart aches for him, yet you can’t help feeling relieved. You’re a few steps closer to this wretched night being over, and perhaps once Harry has what he came for, you’ll be able to leave.

“Are you all right?” Johnny whispers to you now as Harry begins to unload the contents in the floor.

You nod quickly, clinging to his strong frame as though you’re scared you might be taken again. “Yes, I’m all right. Are you?”

“I will be once I know you’re safe,” he says, and your heart sinks.

Once everything inside the safe has been shoved into a bag, Harry turns to the two of you. “That was a good start, Winters. Now where’s the rest of it?”

Johnny frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything I have is in there.”

But Harry only tsks as he sets the items down and begins to stride closer, making you curl even further into Johnny’s embrace. “Come on, now,” he mumbles almost tauntingly. “You know what I really want. And you know that you’re gonna fucking tell me. Isn’t that right, mama?”

He looks to you for only a moment as you swallow.

Johnny begins to seethe. “No. No, you can have everything else, but you won’t touch that.”

“Johnny,” you try, unnerved by the sudden look of warning in Harry’s eye. “Johnny, please…just give it to him. Whatever it is, I don’t care, just…just make him leave.”

“Smart girl,” Harry adds. “Come on, Johnny boy, your darling fiancé is scared. Don’t you wanna save her?”

Your lover simply grows stiff, eyes narrowing at the faux sincerity in the stranger’s voice.

“Johnny,” you mumble again. “Johnny, please, he’s right. I’m scared and I don’t care about what you have or what you don’t have. I just want you. And I want him to go away.”

Still, Johnny wrestles with his decision. With the choice he’s being forced to make, and as the seconds go by, Harry’s patience reaches its limit.

He grabs for you – again. Forcing the weapon under your jaw this time around as Johnny’s muscles tense and his fingers curl into his fist.

“God, look at him,” Harry whispers to you now, lips ghosting up the shell of your ear while forcing your eyes on your fiancé. “Fucking look at your pathetic excuse for a man.”

You attempt to remain indifferent – appear unafraid – but he sees right through you.

“D’you really think he cares about you, Doll?” he murmurs. “Do you really think he’ll choose your life over his own?”

“Let her go,” Johnny barks, yet it only forces the barrel even further into your skin.

Your chin is tilted up, a sharp inhale getting caught in your throat until Harry begins to chuckle.

“How about this,” he says. “I’ll let you choose, mama. I’ll let you decide if he gets to watch me kill you…or if he gets to watch me take you. All for myself.”

“Fucking piece of shit—” Johnny hisses, but Harry simply tsks.

“So, what do you say? What’ll it be? Either way, I’ll have him on his goddamn knees by the end of the night. And then we all win, yeah?”

“Enough,” Johnny yells, and a strangled silence splits the air. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just let her go.”

Harry’s arm begins to lower but not very far. “Once it’s in my hand, she’s all yours.”

And you want to resent these men for treating you like you’re some sort of object to be traded, yet you’d happily be given back to your lover if it meant you could leave this nightmare behind.

No matter the cost.

Johnny rolls his shoulders back and flicks his unrelenting stare back to his desk. “There. The picture.”

You feel your eyebrows raise while Harry slowly begins to loosen his hold on you.

“Get it,” he instructs, and with an aggravated sigh, Johnny obliges.

He retrieves the golden frame from the table before pulling open the back and removing the picture inside.

The picture of you.

It almost breaks your heart, the look on his face. Like he’s absolutely gutted to be defiling this memory of you both, and you ache to comfort him.

Once the photo has been plucked from the glass, you catch the faintest sparkle in the soft light of the moon, and hear yourself gasp.

There, sitting snug inside the small frame, is the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen.

It’s…stunning. The most gorgeous jewel you’ve ever been privileged to lay eyes on, surrounded by what you can only assume to be hundreds of tinier diamonds and rubies arranged in a delicate but intricate pattern.

Altogether creating the most breathtaking necklace you’ve ever seen.

It has to be worth hundreds of dollars – thousands, in fact – and Harry reaches over to take it from the frame with the biggest Cheshire-like grin you’ve ever seen.

This is what he came for.

“You have it, all right? You have it, now go,” Johnny calls, already attempting to reach for you. “You got what you want.”

With an agreeable hum, Harry studies the necklace a moment longer before finally looking to you. “You’re right. We did, didn’t we?”

You both smile.

Instantly, you raise the gun that Harry had discreetly and secretly slipped into your hand only moments ago and aim it at Johnny’s chest.

Three.

Johnny’s expression shifts, eyes widening as he begins to piece together what’s really going on. Why Harry looks so proud and why you look so relieved.

Two.

His lips part. Ready to speak to you, whisper your name, ask for an explanation. And a part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ll feel any remorse for the deception you’ve put him through these past few months.

But as you stare at him now…you feel nothing but liberation.

One.

The third and final gunshot echoes through the air. Louder and far more permanent. Resolute.

Johnny stumbles back, unable to catch himself before he goes tumbling to the ground. A dark red stain expanding like watercolor across his chest, ruining the clean white shirt underneath.

You’d bought him that shirt.

And as the look of life slowly leaves his eye, you feel your muscles unwind, and your shoulders droop.

It’s over.

Harry’s got his arms around you before you can even release the deep breath you’ve been holding onto for so long.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he nearly groans, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in months as you sling your arms around his neck. “Fucking hell, I missed you, mama.”

If Harry had had it his way, Johnny would have been dead months ago. He never liked this plan – not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because the idea of going without you for so long nearly killed him.

But it was the only way to gain Johnny’s trust. And to find his true weakness. He never would have given you the location of the safe or the necklace if you’d simply held him at gunpoint from the get-go.

No, he needed a reason to cave, a reason to put his possessions on the line in order to save something else he truly cared about.

And that’s where you came in.

Sure, it was hard to be without Harry, but you knew it had to be done. Getting these items would set you up for years. You’d never have to work in sleazy bars again. You could simply be with him…forever.

And perhaps pretending to be a stranger to him and appear frightened of his intentions wasn’t quite necessary, but you happen to like the roleplaying aspect.

The way he threatened your life as though he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect it. The way he taunted you, teased you, scared you…when he knew deep down how much you fucking loved it.

You can still feel his fingers around your neck. The pressure of his hand against your throat, holding you still, keeping you close. You hadn’t felt it in months and a part of you wanted to keep the game going for just a bit longer if it meant you could have him.

You weren’t able to run into his arms and kiss him the way you can now and it’s…perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Did he hurt you?” he whispers, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw. “Did he fucking touch you—”

“No,” you’re quick to assure him. “No, never. He wanted to, but I never let him.”

“Good.” He takes hold of your hip and gives it a firm squeeze. “Good girl, knew you’d be on your best behavior, yeah?”

You grin. “Of course. Only ever thought about you.”

“Is that right, doll?”

“Mhm.” You tuck your lip between your teeth and nuzzle your nose to his. “How could it ever be him?”

His lashes flutter, and you can see the edges of his frayed sanity coming loose. He’s had to pretend for far too long, and you don’t imagine he can do it much longer.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, nearly clawing at your dress. “Then, maybe I’ll—”

“What…did you do?”

The sound of Milton’s confusion pulls you apart instantly. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, expression horrified. Looking from his boss, to you, to Harry, and back.

He sees the necklace on the desk, sees the gun in your hand, sees the bag of gold and cash lying at Harry’s feet.

He understands, and your heart almost sinks. Milton was one of the good ones.

Quickly, Harry takes the weapon from you and points it in Milton’s direction.

Milton only leans back with a soft inhale while you turn to your lover and whisper, “No. No, not him.”

Harry’s pursed lips and furrowed brows never waver. “What?”

“Not him,” you repeat, as firmly as you can.

And he hesitates for only a moment before dropping the weapon and nodding his chin at you. “Grab the bag and go out the window.”

You nod your understanding before stealing one last glance at the bartender by the door.

He’s heartbroken and terrified…but his features grow softer as he finally mumbles, “…five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes.”

And you can’t help but smile.

You rush to grab what you came for and hurry to the window, with Harry right behind you. You don’t have a lot of time. Once Milton makes the call to the police, you’ll need to be far enough away that they can’t find you.

You know they’ll be looking. Know they won’t stop until they find you both – after all, they’ve been searching for you for years.

But you don’t mind a life that’s on the run, as long as it’s with him.

And the pleased smile he offers you now only confirms this.

You quickly lift the hem of your dress and begin over the ledge, with Harry right beside you to help. He takes your hand for support, keeping you steady until you can safely drop to the ground outside before he’s following suit.

The moment his feet hit the ground, you both run. The Chicago air is cold – frigid. You don’t have enough clothes to truly cover you and your feet are sore from having to wear these outrageous shoes all night.

But you somehow feel…alive. Invigorated and so very free. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.

You have him.

You both slip along the shadows as you make your way through town, leaving the speakeasy and Johnny Winters behind. After a minute or two, you hear the sirens in the distance, and the stakes are raised. They grow louder and louder the closer they get, and it’s then that Harry recaptures your hand and tugs you into a dark alleyway for cover.

This is where you stay until the cars have zipped down the street and proceeded without you. They don’t even think to look for you here and you’re rather impressed with your lover’s quick thinking.

Harry, however, isn’t as quick to revel in the success. Continuingly peeking around the corner in order to watch for anything unusual. Ignoring your amused laughter and giddy grin of accomplishment.

He’s on edge. Alert. Ready to run again if need be, and while you rather admire his practiced precision, you hope to put it to better use.

You drop the bag near the wall and make your way for him, palms quickly finding his cheeks in order to pull his attention to you.

He grunts. “What?”

But you don’t answer with words. You answer with a kiss. A kiss that makes your stomach flip and your mind grow fuzzy.

And this seems to be explanation enough as he groans with approval and wraps his arms around your middle to keep you against his chest. Nipping and licking at you as though his life depends on it.

Perhaps it does.

He shoves you back against the brick after only a few seconds, finding the leverage he needs in order to deepen the kiss and truly claim you. In a way he’d been desperate to the moment he saw you sitting in that office in such a beautiful dress.

“Trying to distract me, hm?” he murmurs, and you can’t help but smile. “Yeah? Or did you just need me that badly?”

He spins you around, pressing your cheek to the cold blocks of clay before dancing his fingers down your spine. Indulging in you.

It makes your insides twist.

You feel the hem of your dress gather in his fist as he finally gets a proper look at what he’s been missing for months. And the sound he makes goes straight to your cunt.

“You filthy fucking thing,” he whispers, rather delightedly while moving in to trail his mouth along your neck. “Look at you. Look at how perfect you are.”

His fingers find your pussy, stroking over your covered slit once or twice before plucking the covering from your hips and dragging it down your thighs.

“Just dripping for me, yeah? All fucking night.” He drags his palm up the inside of your leg. “Power makes you weak, doesn’t it, mama?”

You nod desperately, unable to answer with words.

But he understands, smirking to himself rather deviously before his hands are tangling in your hair in order to yank your head back. Just to hear you choke on a whine. “I’ve waited months for this. Yeah? M’gonna take my time with you…gonna make it worth it.”

And you don’t doubt that you will.

You nod again as the sound of his leather belt coming undone echoes between your ears. You’re trembling with anticipation, body aching for the feel of his cock. It’s been far too long, and you’ve nearly withered away without him.

You imagine he feels about the same, already fisting himself in one hand and readjusting your dress in the other. You hear him mumble something under his breath – you’re not quite sure what. But you suppose it doesn’t matter. He can say whatever he likes as long as he gives you what you need.

Normally, he’d take his time. He loves to make a show out of ruining you, but there’s no chance for that tonight. No patience. So, he kicks your feet apart, grabs your hip, and eases himself in all before you can take a breath.

And it’s perfect. Exactly the way you remember. The stretch, the scratch, the desperation. Nobody feels the way he does, and you both know it.

He’s still for a moment, merely pushing himself in and watching your pussy swallow him whole. As if so overcome by the sensation that he can’t do much else. As if losing control over his own body.

So, you push against his chest to remind him you’re here while your fingers reach back for his hair in order to tug it softly.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “All fucking night,” he whispers the moment he’s buried to the hilt. “Knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You grin as well. You’re rather happy he noticed.

“Spitting in my fucking face,” he continues. “Challenging me. Acting like a fucking brat. S’all cause you were so fucking needy for me, wasn’t it, mama?”

“Maybe,” you can’t help but retort. “Maybe I knew you’d like it.”

He laughs now. A low, deep, sadistic sound from the back of his throat. Using his hold on your scalp to force your head into his shoulder. “Is that right, hm?”

You only nod.”

“Yeah? Then say it,” he hisses. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed my cock. That nobody fucks you like I do—”

He accompanies this request with his first, sharp thrust. Pulling back only to drive himself in so hard, the air is nearly knocked from your lungs.

“Because they can’t, can they?” he coos, yet it’s angry. Fingers moving from your hair to your neck. Squeezing until you gasp. “Nobody knows how to treat this little pussy like I do. Do they?”

You fall mute. Going limp in his hold as the pleasure begins to build.

“You love it when I fuck you like this.” His nose presses to your cheek as he breathes, your delicate throat a plaything in his touch. “Love it when I kill for you. Love it when I make you mine—”

You gasp at the ecstasy, hardly able to hear him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You love me,” he murmurs, and you just about disappear into his embrace.

“I do,” you gasp, almost too loudly. “I do, Harry, please—"

“Quiet,” he hisses, glancing now toward the street in order to make sure the police haven’t found their way to you. “You know better than that. You’ll take me and you’ll do it quietly. Understood?”

Your only response is to whimper pitifully while your nails scratch down the brick walls of the alley.

In turn, he grasps onto your jaw, forcing your head to the side until your eyes can meet. “I said, is that fucking understood?”

“I thought you said to be quiet,” you can’t help but retort, and he hums.

“Oh, is that how you wanna play it?” He releases your throat only to take hold of your hips once more and spin you around between thrusts. Quickly returning to his place between your thighs before lifting one of your legs and hiking it around his waist.

“What…” you begin, chest heaving as the tip of his cock drags down your clit. “What are you—”

“Had to see you,” is his gritted response. “Had to see this pretty, bratty face as I ruined you.”

You imagine you’d smile if you weren’t so close to coming apart, but he understands. Pressing his forehead to yours before reaching up toward the top of your dress and ripping the fabric down to reveal your chest.

You can tell he’s been wanting to do this all night. Know he’s been ogling your tits from behind the expensive fabric since the moment he walked in, and truth be told, that’s the real reason you wore it.

Not because Johnny loves you in red.

But because Harry deserved to look at something pretty.

The cold air meets your skin with an unforgiving fervor, and you squirm against the brick as Harry’s eyes fall to the tattered fabric lying so pathetically on your chest.

Instantly, his head dips, mouth leaving open and sloppy kisses to the beautiful pair before him. Tongue stroking the hardened nipples rather respectfully, all things considered.

In turn, you run a hand through his dark curls as he does this to you. As you watch him take whatever he wants. Feeling the way his hair moves like butter between your fingers. The way he hums against you. The way his lashes flutter.

You’ve missed this.

Then, your grip tightens, and you yank his head up until his lips can meet yours. And you take. Take the taste of him, the taste of you, and the taste of victory.

His palm comes up to rest against the wall beside your head. Steadying himself as he works to find that perfect rhythm again. Over and over and over.

And all you can do is move your anxious kisses to his throat as he fucks into you. Whispering, “Nobody, baby. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody.”

Your fingers trail down his strong back, feeling each muscle that dips and flexes as he moves. The way he grunts when you scratch your nails down his spine. The way he consumes you and succumbs to you all at once.

Johnny was beautiful, but Harry is a beast. You’ve never seen a man like this before – never felt a man like this before. Every curve of his body is ethereal. Every detail, every touch.

Your touch continues to move lower and lower down his strong frame until you find something at the base of his spine.

And it makes you grin.

You slip it from his belt with ease, feeling the way it sits firmly in your hand as though it were made for it.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care with the way he’s so deep into you. Emotionally, physically.

But he’s quickly pulled from his pleasured trance the moment he feels the familiar, cool touch of his gun sweeping across his jaw.

He stills. Straightening up ever-so-slightly, eyes finding yours.

But you’re too busy gazing at the barrel that dances across that beautiful face.

After all, he got to have his fun this evening.

Now it’s your turn.

You bring it to a stop just under his chin, tilting his head up exactly the way he’d done to you earlier as he releases a deep breath.

“Mama…” he warns, but you only hum.

This isn’t the first time this deadly weapon has made this an unofficial threesome, but it is certainly the first time you’ve been the one to wield it.

You hate guns. You do. But you love Harry’s. The way he holds it. The way he handles it. The way he uses great care and great power.

Because there’s something about seeing him with it. Seeing the way he controls it, controls the room. The way he holds someone’s life in the palm of his hand…

Perhaps you should be concerned by how enamored you are by it. By him.

But not tonight. Tonight, you simply enjoy.

And from the look in his eye, he seems to be enjoying it, too.

After all, you know he loved watching you use it on Johnny. Know he almost had you right then and there, on Johnny’s desk, before the mission was even through.

He’s endlessly pleased with you, and you can’t help but use this to your advantage.

So, with the weapon still taut to his clenched jaw, you lean forward and ghost your lips over his. “What’s the matter, Daddy? Does power make you weak?”

The twitch of his cock is answer enough.

You go in for the kill. With your fingers dancing over the trigger button, you lean back and dip down before dragging your tongue up the length of the barrel.

His eyes nearly roll back, and the sound that leaves his chest is euphoric. You think you might just kill him.

Because you’re slow. Meticulous. Licking every inch of the weapon until you finally reach the tip still tucked just beneath his chin.

Then…you kiss him.

And he’s so overwhelmed that he growls into your mouth, no longer threatened by the gun at his throat. Instead grabbing onto the back of your neck in order to squeeze it tight and keep you close. Devour you the way he’s been so frantic to.

You don’t even realize that you’ve begun to lower the gun until you feel it snatched from your grasp.

And pressed tightly to your clit.

The cold surface of the weapon against the warmest part of your body has you arching your back with a whimper. He has the upper hand once more, and he’s certainly not about to waste it. Mouth curling up into a satisfied, smug grin at the way your expression has gone hazy.

You’ve never looked at another man the way you look at him and he knows it.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks softly, adding just enough pressure to make you whine. “All fucking night? The moment you saw me? Saw my gun? Wanted me to fuck you with it?”

Your nails meet your chest, scratching down the frigid skin in a desperate attempt to find something to ground you.

His only response is to drag the tip of the weapon down just a bit further. Until he can watch it glisten in you.

“Fucking looking at you,” he muses beneath a strained exhale, enamored by the way you subconsciously begin to grind on it. “So desperate to feel it. To be fucked by it. And what if I do, hm? What if I fuck you with my gun right here in this alleyway?”

You only whisper his name and an airy, “Please…”

“I thought about it,” he continues quietly, nose brushing yours as he slips the soaked barrel back up your cunt. “Thought about ripping off this pathetic little dress and fucking you right in front of your precious fiancé.”

You wish he had.

“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, mama?” His fingers drum against the handle. “Yeah? I know you would. Would have loved to watch him watch me.”

And he’s not wrong. He hardly ever is when it comes to your darkest fantasies, and it’s just one of the many reasons why you love him.

“But I had to wait,” he tells you now, finally pulling the gun away from your dripping clit until you nearly crumple to the cold concrete below. “Because after all this time…I’m the only thing that gets to fill you tonight, yeah?”

You simply nod again as he brings the gun back to your mouth with a proud grin.

And you know exactly what he wants, swiping your tongue all along the barrel and tasting every drop, every indication of your need for him. Swallowing it all as he watches proudly.

The moment you’re finished, he takes the gun and returns it to his pocket, tucking it away safely. Because he’s right again, and you need to feel him far more than you’ve ever needed anything else.

So, you grasp onto his face and bring his lips to yours, allowing him to pick up right where he left off.

Because as much as you love the power…you love being weak for him more.

At least in moments like this.

He fills you and fucks you until you’re dizzy. Until you can taste the pleasure and the unraveling.

You make a show of it. A way to apologize for all the time lost. Trailing the tips of your fingers along your own chest and down your sternum until you notice you have his attention.

He watches you take your tit into your palm before you’re tweaking the hardened nipple with a soft whine. Allowing your head to drop back into the wall while you do it again and again.

And he’s an angry sort of infatuated. Groaning almost pitifully before kissing you again and easily swatting your hand away in order to do it himself.

But that’s still not enough. So, you play your ace, and move your touch down to your clit in order to pinch it exactly the way he likes.

And it’s beautiful. The most exhilarating feeling, and this is what sends him over. The feel of your pussy clamping down on his cock, the sight of your fingers against your clit, the sound of your pathetic whimpers and pants as you cry out his name.

He fills you before he can stop himself, kissing you quickly as he releases into your aching, abused cunt.

Claiming you in more ways than one until you have no choice but to follow.

It rips you apart in the same way he ripped the dress. Until you see stars, and your back arches, and your toes curl. And everything makes sense.

He works to make it last for as long as he can, and once it’s all over, there’s a soft, tender moment of silence as you work to catch your breath.

You forget about everything else. The sirens, the lies, the deceit. Even Johnny. You forget about it all.

Because you got more than a diamond necklace tonight.

You got Harry back.

After a second or two more, you lazily reach up to sweep some of his rogue curls from his forehead. Wanting to really see his eyes as he holds you tonight.

“Harry?” you whisper into the cold, dark alley.

He hums. “Yes, mama?”

“I love you.”

And you’ve never seen him so happy. “I love you more,” he breathes, kiss you again as if to cement this vow.

Eventually, the moment comes to pass, and you have to drop your leg back down to the floor and part from him. You find that your muscles are sore, and just a touch achey, but you don’t even mind. Because it’s somehow just as deliciously pleasurable.

Harry works to readjust your dress and keep you covered; despite the way he’s ruin the expensive fabric. He offers you his jacket – insists on it. Wrapping it around your shoulders before you can even argue.

You smile as you snuggle into the warm material, feeling calmed by the familiar smell of him.

“There,” he says as he looks at you before his head tilts. “Just missing one thing.”

Curious, you watch as he slips his hand back into his pant pocket in order to fish something out.

The necklace.

He hadn’t told you about it before the mission. Only about the safe, and now you think you’re beginning to realize why.

He places it around your neck and readjusts the clasp until it can sit comfortably over your heart.

And you both look down as it sparkles from your chest, smiling together as though you truly can’t believe it’s real.

“You like it?” he whispers.

You grin so wide, your cheeks hurt. “I love it.”

He kisses you again, and it’s perfect.

Everything. All of it.

Him.

Suddenly, a loud toll echoes through the small town. The sharp chime coming from the clocktower in the town square.

Once, twice, three times.

Midnight.

“It’s Christmas,” you realize aloud as you and Harry both glance toward the clock.

His expression softens, and it makes your heart soar. “I guess it is.”

And then…you feel it. The first drop of something cold on your cheek. And then another. And another. And another. Gathering in your hair, getting stuck on his lashes.

Snow.

With a gasp, you look up into the dark sky as it dances down onto the quiet Chicago streets.

A rather perfect ending to a perfectly imperfect day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a soft giggle, you curl yourself under his arm and press your lips to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

He laughs, and you’ve never been so happy.

“Merry Christmas, Mama.”

I'M SORRY THIS ONE GOT A BIT DARKER, IT WAS FUN BUT MOSTLY JUST FOR THE ERA ASPECT!! Thank you for reading if you did and letting me write something a little weirder 😭💞

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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harryistheonlyoneforme · 1 year

Note

Bestie can you write something about reader getting her period and Harry having to go get her tampons and he’s all scared n stuff?

pairing: mafia harry x reader

warnings: harry threatens to shoot someone, caring mafia harry, mentions of blood and periods, swearing, period sex(kinda)

Harry has just gotten out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist as he gums quietly, entering his and YN’s bedroom to get dressed for the day. He doesn’t have plans until much later, so he settles for some boxers and no shirt, ready to get back in bed and cuddle with YN until she wakes up.

As he’s slipping back under the covers though, he feels something wet as his leg grazes her backside, making him physically recoil. He takes a quick peek and his face pales as he realizes it’s blood on YN’s thighs. He has a moment of internal panic as he tries to figure out where to go from here but then he decides to just wake her up, feeling guilty that he’s interrupting her sleep. She groans in annoyance at being woken up, but Harry knows it’s for a good reason.

“You’re bleeding, love,” he mumbled awkwardly, trying not to show his discomfort for the situation. It’s not that he’s disgusted by it or anything, he’s just never dealt with a period in this way. Her eyes shoot open and she whines as she now feels the sticky feeling between her thighs.

Tears are forming quickly and he’s quick to come over to her and shush her cries, not liking the tears one bit. “Cmon, dove. No tears, hm?” he coos, thumbing away at the salty tears that have started tracking down her face. “What can I do?” he whispers.

“I wasn’t supposed to get m’period for another week and I planned to get tampons tomorrow. I don’t have anything here to use,” she sniffles, embarrassed at the way their morning has begun. “Could you run to the store and get me something? Just something to hold me over until I can go?” she asks him, squirming uncomfortably in her place.

“You want me to get you…tampons?” he questions uneasily, his stomach already in knots. He’s never had to do anything like this before, and he definitely didn’t plan for this today. She just nods at him and he already can’t say no to her on a regular day, the fact that he knows she’s embarrassed when she doesn’t have to be and the fact that she’s probably in pain isn’t helping.

So he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips before getting dressed. Before he leaves YN tells him the brand she needs and the kind, thanking him as she quickly strips the sheets to soak them. He’s out the door in 5 minutes flat and as he drives to the store he repeats her instructions over and over, but it all leaves his head the moment he steps in the doors.

Imagine the fear and curiosity all of the cashiers have when they see the most feared crime boss enter their job in confident strides; none of them notice the way he’s mumbling the brand name under his breath or the way his hands are slightly shaking as he heads straight for the aisle he needs.

The commotion in the store is at a standstill as they all wait with baited breaths for him to emerge from the aisle, none of them having the confidence to check in on him. He’s in a squatting position as he searches, but then his scattered thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone behind him.

“Hello, sir. Can I help you find anything?” the young man asks carefully, slowly stepping over to where Harry is beginning to get frustrated and is still searching. He stands up so quickly that Eric flinches back in fear.

“Look me in the eye again and I’ll shoot your foot off,” he snaps gruffly, making the younger employee shift his eyes to the floor immediately. He then thinks of what YN would say if she were here and takes a deep breath, deciding to try again. “Do you know where the, um, L brand assorted tampons are?” he mumbles, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

Eric nods immediately and steps over to where they are, grabbing two boxes and bringing them back to Harry. “Is there anything else you’re looking for?” he asks meekly, and Harry just shrugs his shoulders and mumbles an ‘I don’t know what she’d need’. From then Eric and Harry go around the store and grab everything she could possibly need. Pain killers, a heating pad, snacks, and he even found a cute little panda face mask he knows she’d love.

They’re at the register a few short minutes later and Harry’s cheeks are on fire as he can feel all the eyes on him, and he just wishes Eric would hurry the fuck up. When everything is bagged and paid for, Harry slips him a literal hundred dollar bill and nods in thanks as he heads from the store with his bags, eager to get home to YN.

He practically speeds home to get to her, and the moment his shoes are off at the door he’s sprinting up the stairs with the bags in his hands. He finds her in the shower and he places the tampons on the counter before heading into the bedroom to drop everything else off.

Not long after, YN emerges from the bathroom with a dopey smile on her face at his gesture, walking to stand in between his legs.

“Thank you,” she starts, her words nothing short of genuine. Just the sweetest husband,” her words are feeding his ego and he leans up to press a greedy kiss to her lips.

“Yeah?” he pulls away. “Gonna let me show how sweet I can really be?” he teases, moving down to nip at the sweet spot on her neck. She moans softly and leans into his touch.

“Never gonna say no to that,” she responds. Harry wastes no more time, and in mere seconds he’s got her bare and on her back, legs spread as he lines himself up with her.

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jarofstyles · 1 year

Note

Mafiarry Christmas please miss jars!!!

Of course 🫶 here is a peek into their Christmas season!

Check out our Patreon!

Warnings- mafia mention, anxiety, dangerous situations

“You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t be a Scrooge.” Y/N puffed, hauling the tinsel behind her with a swing of the hip. “It’s not my fault you can’t see the joys of the season. You’re just grumpy.”

Harry exhaled fully, dragging his hands down his face as he walked into his living room. It looked like Christmas had thrown up all over. He had been warned by the wreath when he walked to the front door, but nothing could have prepared him for the title wave of jingle and jolly that invaded his house.

“I’m not a Scrooge. That’s offensive.” He grunted. “I’m just… this is a lot, darling. Where are you possibly going to put it all?” He knew Y/N had a lot of time on her hands now that she had agreed to stay home for her safety for a bit, some ongoing issues making it a bit hard for her to go and do the normal festivities. “I think you’ve bought the entire Christmas section.” His face had softened as he saw a slight pout on her face, stretching hard to place the tinsel on the higher hook.

The man didn’t skip a beat, coming up behind her and taking the fluffy tinsel from her hand and draping it up so it hung the way he had a feeling she would want. One hand curled around her waist, fingers slightly digging into her soft tummy as he pressed against her. Y/N couldn’t keep the facade, leaning back into him with a gentle hmph. It was unfair that a single touch, a little gesture made her feel so needy. Her body leaned into his, feeling the crispness of his pressed shirt and inhaling the scent of him as she dropped her head back against his shoulder.

“Thank you.” She paused. “Even more rude that you haven’t kissed me hello yet.”

That was something Harry could agree with. Especially with her wearing these odd yet very flattering red velvet leggings with a flare at the bottom and Santa like fuzzy stuff at the rim and a cropped knit sweater. He pulled her closer, tilting her chin up a bit and covered his mouth with hers for a full kiss. He wasn’t one to ever half ass their kisses, and he was known to be a greedy man, so he did what he did best. Holding his lips over hers and sucking slightly as he pulled back, a little smile curling his lips as he heard a soft protest from her.

Y/N spun in his arms to properly face him, hands sneaking under his blazer jacket to find his belt loops. Harry’s smile was one of the private ones reserved just for her, making her irritation at his prodding about the Christmas decor lessen. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to forget your kiss.” He gently rubbed the bare skin of her back, dipping his fingers into the waistband of the velvet things. Whatever they were, he liked how they looked and how they felt. “Just shocked me. M’not used to this. And you didn’t consult me.” There was no malice in his voice, just slight surprise. She usually told him when she did big things. This seemed to quantify as a big thing.

“Was feeling spontaneous. Antonio and co took me shopping, you knew that. But once I got to the Christmas sections I got a vision.” She raised on her tiptoes to kiss his nose before pulling away, sauntering over to the bags. “Winter wonderland. Classy and cool, doesn’t need to be taken down the very next day after Christmas. Just… something to do.” She shrugged, trying not to make him feel bad. There was no illusion, she knew what she was into when she decided to stay with him. Sometimes things would be more guarded and she would need to listen to him for safety. Harry was worth any sacrifice.

“Hm. That’s a good idea.” Harry loosened his shirt, placing the blazer on the chair. He had spent all day wanting to come home to her and relax- and he would. But he wanted to indulge first. He may not have the most Christmas spirit usually, but if it made her happy, he would put on a santa hat or something. “I’m sorry you can’t do the normal things.” He sat down on the ottoman in front of all the bags, watching her cross the room to come and sit near him to give him a ‘haul.’ He didn’t know why she loved it so much but her smiles and the excitement was well worth it.

“It’s okay. I’ve got a handsome man with pretty hands who comes home to me. He’s very dangerous and good in bed. So.” She snickered, grabbing a bag that was in her way and placing it on her lap. “It’s a good trade off.

Plus you kind of fund my hobbies so, I’ve got to give it to you.”

Harry had to laugh, crossing his arms as he watched intently, eyes locked on her as she went through the items. The light in her eyes, the excitement she showed as she was going through her purchases and explaining where each piece would go and her ‘vision’ for the spaces. Was there really a need for miniature Christmas trees in every bathroom? No. But he wouldn’t mind. It didn’t hurt anything and he was sure any of his men wouldn’t say anything either. Nothing but compliments allowed for Y/N’s sake.

“And then!” She stood up, tapping her fingers together. “I got you a tree for your office. And before you give me the Harry Eyebrow raise- your’re starting it, stop- it’s flocked. We won’t decorate it besides some lights. I know you’re a macho man who runs underground crime and all that but…” she brought the box over to him, presenting it like it was a gold dabloon. “I thought about what you’d like. Simple and elegant. It’s a pretty tree and we can set it up together. That’s all the decor for your office cause it’s your space but I just….” She fiddled with the box, looking down at it. “I wanted you to be happy too. I know things are a bit hard now, that you’re on edge. I hope that it makes you feel a bit less like your head is lost in this. That you’re still normal.”

And there it was. One of the biggest reasons why he loved her. Her pure thoughtfulness was something that Harry never would be able to find in anyone else. Despite him trying his best to shield her from some of the tiny, insignificant parts of this that would grate on him? She noticed. Holidays never felt special before her. Last year had been calm and she had given him the best Christmas he ever had, which he had admitted when curled naked around her, stroking her supple skin. Confessing how hard the holidays were especially when shit like his business was life or death for a lot of people. The weight was heavy and he tried to keep afloat but sometimes he would drown in it.

She was his life preserver.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, sitting up straighter as his finger crooked. Motioning her over to come right to him. “Come give me a cuddle before you go back to your work. We can set it up together. You’re very thoughtful, darling girl.” As soon as he could get his hands on her she was tugged into his lap, straddling him as he curled an arm around her and pulled her face down so he could kiss her cheeks. “My very own angel. Couldn’t ask for anything better.”

Harry didn’t care about stockings or anything under the tree. Lights didn’t phase him. All he needed was this. Her. Seeing her in his bed every morning as she whined for him to stay, finding his marks on her skin after nights of passion, getting to be the receiver of these sort of thoughtful gestures. She was his person. “I love you.” Her voice floated over him, snugly placing her arm around his neck. “I want to lessen the burden. Want you to have an escape.”

“You are my escape. Helped make this house a real home. I completely and utterly adore you.” His words were weighted, settling in her belly as she smiled down at him.

“That’s all I can ask for.” Her fingers delicately brushed over his jaw, the stubble rough against the tips. “You are my dream. Didn’t know I had such an intense dream of love, but you’re easy. Despite everything else you’re the easiest person to love that I could imagine. It comes naturally.” Her eyes focused on his, letting him see how truthful the sentiment was. “Thank you for indulging in me. I know you don’t care too much about the decorations but you’ll help me and look at the things I’ve bought because it makes me happy.” She watched him go to open his mouth but she shook her head. “S’okay. Promise. It makes me happy that you do it anyways. But… I just hope you know how much I appreciate you.” She ended the thanks with a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Come on then. I need my Scrooge to roll up those Armani sleeves and use that strength to help me put up the tree. I got an artificial one. We need to save the forest.”

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stylessupremacy · 2 years

Note

"I risked my fucking life for you,harry!"

Mafia!harry

Someone must have caught wind of one of Harry’s drops and took his product. Whoever it was must have no common sense. Don't they know they're fucking with the most dangerous mafia leader?

Harry is the leader of the English Mafia and is one of the most dangerous men to walk the earth. Actually, scratch that, he is the most dangerous man to walk the earth.

Nobody in the mafia world knows who Y/n is and how she is Harry’s girlfriend ironically. How she ended up with him is beyond the knowledge of anybody.

But she helps Harry out a lot since nobody knows who she is. If Harry needs her to scope out some people and ‘buy’ some product just so he can attack she’ll do it. She’ll do anything for the man she loves.

Like any other plan, Y/n is trying to be sneaky and listen to a gang's plan on how to sabotage the English Mafia's drop happening tomorrow. Harry caught wind they were having a meeting tonight.

Y/n hid around the corner behind some storage units so if anybody walked past - she could quickly hide. When moving too quickly as a guard walked by, she bumped into it and caused ruckus.

Knowing the members heard her she took off and managed to dodge all the bullets they shot at her. She quickly made it out of the building and into the waiting car with Harry and the men waiting to fire if need be.

"Harry, what the fuck was that? You didn't tell me they were also planning to attack our team!" Y/n barked at Harry. She was pissed because she put her life at risk not knowing what Harry already knew.

"Look m'sorry okay? I didn't think they would come after you like that," Harry said as he kept his eyes on the road - knowing he was in the wrong.

"I just risked my fucking life for you, Harry! And all I get is a sorry?" Y/n's voice laced with sarcasm as she was ready to bounce on Harry and give him a good ass whooping.

"Look how about when we attack, I'll let you keep one of the men to bring back to the warehouse to torture, deal?" Harry proposed knowing that was Y/n's specialty but Harry didn't let Y/n do it very often.

"Deal."

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 year

Text

Compromised One Shot - All About Family ^**

Harry finally goes to meet and check in on Y/N's family. I really love how this one turned out! And I also really love the smut, it's very romantic but hot!

WC: 8.1k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy struggles, grief, mentions of death and suicide, daddy kink smut.

Full Fic Masterlist

Being married hadn’t really changed the dynamic between Harry and Y/N, the biggest difference over their four months of being married was that their sex lives had morphed to include actual baby-making sessions when she was ovulating. Harry had yet to get Y/N pregnant and it did weigh a little bit on them. When he got checked everything seemed to be normal, the doctor just told him that maybe it wasn’t the right time yet. And when Y/N got checked she was told that it might be a little while before she could actually get pregnant. She had been on birth control since the age of 13 - she was now 30 - her hormones were trying to rebalance themselves without the help of birth control; it would take time for her body to be prepared for a successful pregnancy. The doctor was very kind, but candid even about the increased possibility of miscarriages the first couple times, Y/N was alright hearing it, but Harry squeezed her hand with nerves. Y/N had gotten off of her pills the week before the wedding and she was aware that it could take some people time to be able to actually get pregnant. Hearing from a professional that these challenges they were having were normal was relieving, so she wasn’t all that worried about it after hearing that but Harry seemed to still be carrying a brunt of the concern.

“Dottorra, sei sicuro? Ci stiamo provando già da quattro mesi.” He told the doctor and she nodded.

“Assolutamente. Tutto sembra normale. Sii paziente.” She smiled and Harry nodded.

“You hear her, it’s fine.” She said to Harry, who nodded, still anxious.

“It can be a couple of months or maybe even a year before it can happen.” The doctor then said in a slightly broken English. She was a sweet woman who liked when they came in because it gave her the chance to practice her English and them their Italian. This made Harry even more nervous and Y/N looked at the state he was in and decided it might be good to know if there was anything she could do to improve her chances.

“Mi consigliate qualcosa per migliorare le nostre possibilità di concepimento?” Y/N proceeded to ask for any recommendations to improve chances of conception and the doctor nodded and gave some supplements and diet recommendations that have been proven to boost egg quality. Healthy egg plus healthy sperm should equal a baby she assured them and with this fresh in their minds they headed home.

“I’m relieved to know there’s not any serious issues.” He said as he hugged Y/N from behind. She was currently grabbing some water and she smiled.

“Told you it was gonna be fine.” She said and he hummed into her shoulder, “Are you sure you’re gonna be fine with a baby though? Gonna have to share me for the rest of our lives.” She pointed out with a grin.

“Baby, it’s 50-50.” He said and she was cracking up in his arms as he said this.

“More like 90-10.” She said after she calmed and he huffed.

“Are you sure about that?” He questioned.

“Definitely, baby, it would need us to survive. Basically gonna be using my body for that the first year at least.” She said.

“It?” He laughed.

“Well, I don’t know what it’ll be!” She defended her phrasing.

“Jesus… Imagine that, an ex-mafia member and an ex-CIA agent coming together and having a kid. The type of parents we’ll be…” He mumbled in disbelief and she smirked.

“Hey, I know plenty of regular people who are horrendous parents. If anything, I think our life experiences are advantages. Besides, our parents did amazing jobs.” She said and he hummed in agreement and a silence fell over them for a second, “You know, we can wait a little more. We don’t have to plan it on purpose, we can just…let it happen when it’s meant to happen.” She said and he nibbled on his lip for a moment.

“We should plan, what if he have a Capricorn baby?” He asked and she laughed again and he grinned at successfully lightening the mood for a second, “Is it selfish of me if I say we should definitely wait a little bit more?” He asked, she was still giggling as she turned to face him and he hoisted her up onto the counter and she draped her arms around his neck.

“No baby, it’s not at all. We need to enjoy and solidify our marriage.” She reasoned, “And also make sure we’re on the same page about what we want for our family. What parenting looks like for each of us and do those styles align and are they proven to be good. What values we want to instill in our child. What kind of person we want them to be…it’s a big job. It’s a commitment, bigger than the one we’ve made to each other. I mean, if you think about it we’re choosing to create an entirely new person to add into the mix of this world and we’re sending them out into that world with the tools we have given them to navigate it and they can do good, but they can also cause harm…” she said and he started feeling more nervous about it, “Being a parent is the most important job, I think. And if I’m going to be a parent I want to make sure that I’m ready to commit the time I need to, to my child to do the best job for them.” She explained her thoughts and he was slightly pouting now, “Did I freak you out?” She asked and he sighed through a smile.

“Just a little. I hadn’t… thought of it like that before. For me it was more like, I love you so much and I have this primal need to make you a mother, to create more with you. I hadn’t considered any of what you just said before… Is that why you never wanted to have kids?” He asked her and she nodded.

“Yeah, part of it. There’s so much good you can do and people can still go…rogue. I mean, look at me. My parents didn’t raise me in the hopes that I’d become a killer.” She said with a small frown.

“Baby, that’s not even the truth. You’re good, you’re so, so good.”

“I know I am now, but I wasn’t always.” She said, “And I’ve forgiven myself for it, but I can’t let myself forget.” She reminded and he nodded in understanding.

“I think that’s what would make you the most incredible mum. Learning to love and forgive yourself is not something that many people do successfully.” He said and she hummed, “I think you’re completely right about where your head’s at. In my mind just the idea of being able to get you pregnant and having a little you and me combo is what was exciting for me, but you’re absolutely right, it’s far more than that. I don’t know it was just a childish and simple little thing in my head, like the obvious next step, you know?”

“I’m an over-thinker, you know that. But you’re not being childish, it’s natural to want just the simplicity of a family, it’s not like you were being careless or making light of it, H. I think we’re meant to feel that need, but the world we live in can make the simplest things vastly complicated.” She shrugged, reassuring him that his reasons for wanting a baby weren’t wrong.

“I’ll tell you one thing that’s not complicated,” she hummed to urge him on, “After this very enlightening conversation I’ve concluded that I’m not nearly ready to share you with anyone. For very selfish and hedonistic reasons.” He whispered as he leaned in to press his lips against hers. They smiled into their kiss and parted again.

“I’m not ready to share you either. Want to enjoy us for a little bit longer.” she confessed and he smiled before delving back in to kiss her.

“Good thing we didn’t buy those supplements.” He mumbled and she laughed into the space between them, “So…do you want to go and fuck?” He asked and she giggled.

“I thought we just agreed to wait.”

“Baby, I said ‘fuck’, not make a baby. We haven’t fucked in a while.” He pointed out.

“How about later?” She asked and he pouted and nuzzled himself against the side of her face.

“Tesoro, non torturarmi in quel modo. Ti voglio così tanto.” He mumbled in Italian against the shell of her ear that she was torturing him and he wanted her so badly and she bit down on her lip, he knew what his speaking Italian did to her.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” She responded in English and he grinned against the line of her jaw, she could feel it.

“Non so di cosa stai parlando.” He played dumb as he softly kissed her jaw.

“Sai come mi sento quando mi parli in italiano.” grabbing him by the hair and pulling him back, their eyes meeting again and he grinned smugly as she reiterated to him that he was well aware of what it did to her when he spoke in Italian to her.

“No, non lo so. Dimmi come ti fa sentire.” He responded that he was not aware and to tell him how it made her feel. His green eyes were already dark with lust for her and she bit her grin back as he studied her face for a moment.

“It makes me feel like strangling you.” She joked as she slid her hands up his throat playfully and he hummed.

“That’s the spirit, but just squeeze a little bit tighter, baby.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes at him as she let her hands slide down to his firm chest, “Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” He asked, fully offended and she smiled.

“I do, just not now. My entire reproductive system was just probed at and honestly that speculum was a little big for me and it hurt a little. I’m still feeling like a specimen or something, it’s not you at all.”

“Oh.” He frowned, “I’m sorry, baby. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Let’s go for a cuddle.” She said and he smiled.

“Alright, hang on tight my little koala bear.” He warned and she clutched tightly to him as he walked them up to their bedroom. Soon they were plopping onto their bed and he got comfy as she hugged around him, trapping his leg between her legs.

“What’re you gonna read to me?” She asked. When they cuddled like this he always pulled out a book and read to her so that they could practice their Italian. In their lines of work it was important that they both understood the basics, but living here the past two years, they were both getting more fluent, but being with each other all of the time didn’t really give them enough practice, so this is something they did to learn new words.

“Neruda poems, you tell me what you understand.” He mumbled as he opened up the book and she hummed happily, “Corpo di donna, colline bianche, cosce bianche. Come come il mondo, posseduto nella resa. Il mio corpo selvaggio di operaio ti scava e fa…” he paused, “…esplodere un figlio dalle profondità della terra.” He cleared his throat and she giggled.

“Is this about getting someone pregnant?” She laughed and he chuckled.

“I think so… I promise that wasn’t on purpose. It’s the first one in this book.” He laughed and she joined him as well.

“Gonna explode a son into the depths of me?” She asked through her laugher and he started howling in laughter with her. They rolled around the bed, stomachs cramping up with how hilarious they found this phrasing and finally it died down and they were catching their breaths.

“Exploding a son into you, that sounds awful.” He panted and she sniggered.

“It does. Anyway, continue.” She hummed with a smile and there was silence as he read on silently.

“Oh, this one’s really horny. I can’t take it seriously.” He mumbled and flipped the page as she giggled. He found a more lovely one and started reading that one instead. She did figure most of it out, but soon he started getting drowsy, as he often did when he read. Especially as the cool breeze billowed through their wide open glass doors that led to their ample balcony. When his vision started blurring a bit he put the book down and kissed the top of her head before cuddling closer to her.

“Ti amo, luce della mia vita.” She whispered and he smiled.

“Love you.” He hummed happily. When she called him that, the light of her life, it made Harry feel on top of the world. For so long he felt that he was nothing but darkness and pain. Knowing that to her, he was as radiant as the sun, it just made his heart burst with joy. He wasn’t sure how else he could express that to her, it was too much love for him to hold inside, “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” He said over and over as he squeezed her close.

When they woke up it was because there was a loud crack of thunder that rattled the windows and glass doors. It was cooler now and the sky was grey as the rain poured down in bucketfuls. The sound was soothing, but she was chilly as was he and they pulled the throw at the end of their bed over their shivering bodies.

“Baby, I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What is it?” He asked and she bit her lip.

“Ummm, do you think it’s safe enough for you to visit my family now? I’ve been thinking about them a lot and I…I just want to make sure they’re OK.”

“Yeah, I think we’re alright now. Do you want to go and have me wear a wire or something?” He asked, “How should we do this?”

“No, I don’t want to go. I can’t do it.” She admitted, “Just you. I trust you.”

“OK.” He agreed quietly as his hand smoothed over her tummy.

It was only a few days later that they made the arrangements for him to travel to her hometown. He was only planning to be there two or three days, he also wanted to visit Angelo’s mom on the way back. He was a bit nervous about doing this, but he would of course do anything for her.

*********

Harry had boarded a plane that was soon to touch down in Los Angeles. Now that he was there he felt more anxious about this than before; what if they got upset at him? What if he hurt them more than they were already hurting? Harry was updating Y/N on his travels and they spoke on the phone the entire drive to her old house where she shared some refresher details about her family to him.

“Baby, I’m pulling up now.” She breathed out shakily, “Are you sure you don’t want to listen in at least or-”

“No.” She cut in quickly.

“OK. Well, I love you. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Love you.” She sniffled and how he wanted to wrap her up in a big hug.

“I love you.” He responded and they hung up. He removed his wedding ring and put it in his pocket and took a few deep breaths before he got out of the car he rented and walked up to the front door. The home wasn’t big at all, in fact, it kind of reminded him of his safe house out near his mum’s. But there was that giant magnolia tree out front, the flowers in full bloom from the spring, they looked identical to the ones tattooed on her now and it made him smile. He made it to the door and rung the door bell twice and looked around, the orange hues of the sky were beautiful, it was nearly 6 in the evening. Y/N said they were always home for dinner. He heard some steps coming and in moments the door was unlocked and swung open to reveal a child, a girl, she couldn’t be older that 5. This was strange. Had they moved?

“Hi.” He said with a friendly smile and she just peered up at him silently, “Are your parents home?” He asked and she nodded and he chuckled, “Can you call them for me?” She nodded and just scurried away leaving him alone again and he took a few steps back, to show that he was not a threat, but the child barely made it around the corner before a woman, looking closer to his age hurried up with a concerned frown.

“Who are you?” She asked assertively.

“Ummm, I’m Harry. I was looking for Martha o-or Benjamin?” He asked warily, “This was the last address I had for them.” He explained.

“What is this regarding?” The woman asked.

“It’s a family matter. Is there a forwarding address that you can give me or-”

“I am their family. I’m their niece, Evelyn. This is their house, I’m their tenant now.” She explained, she was clearly feeling protective, which any normal person would.

“Oh my god, hi.” He said as his lips turned up in a smile.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Evelyn asked, looking completely perplexed now. He shook his head.

“No, but I know of you. I umm-” this was harder than he thought.

“How? What is this about?” She asked again.

“Ummm, it’s about…Y/N.” He said tentatively and her face immediately dropped.

“What? How?” She asked and he bit his lip.

“We…were together when she…” he trailed off and Evelyn looked to the ground.

“They told us she was on that motorcycle by herself.” She said tightly, her eyes watery.

“She was. Sorry, let me clarify, I mean we were in a relationship then.” He explained his story.

“What?” Evelyn asked in disbelief and Harry nodded, “Well, what could you possibly want now? It’s been more than ten years.” She sighed in agitation.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any more hurt to you or them, but ummm, I’m getting engaged soon and I still have some of her things. I held on to them for all this time and it didn’t feel right to just throw them away or mail them off. I couldn’t do that to her.” He said his well rehearsed narrative perfectly and Evelyn sniffled as a few tears fell.

“Why now?” She asked with confusion. Her voice cracked as more tears fell and he nibbled on his lip.

“Ummm, it’s been hard to let her go. But I’m ready now and she always talked about her family and her home and it seemed like the best place to come say goodbye.” He explained and she shook her head.

“You can’t do that!” She scoffed with hurt, “You decided to just show up one day and-Fuck, how could you?” She asked as more tears fell and he frowned.

“I’m so sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” He responded softly and she nodded and he turned away and started to walk back to his car. Y/N would understand, she was prepared for this type of reaction and had told him to just go if it would only make things worse. Obviously it would hurt her to know that they still bore some pain but at least she would know they were alive and well and still learning how to move on. He was about to cross the street to his car when Evelyn’s voice cut through his thoughts of how he would explain this to Y/N.

“Hey! Wait!” She shouted sharply and he turned back to look at her, there was a beat of silence before Evelyn spoke up again, “What do you have of hers?” She asked nervously.

“Just some stuff she had left at my apartment. I can show you.” He offered and she nodded, her eyes softening, “Let me just get it from the car.” He said and hurried to grab the box that had taken up most of the space in his duffle bag. He hurried back over to her.

“D-do you want to come in?” She asked cautiously.

“If you’re OK with it. We can stay out here if you prefer.” He said quickly.

“It’s fine, I need to keep an eye out on the girls.” She said and he nodded and she guided him inside. He followed her through the home, it was small but cute. They peaked into the living room to see her girls watching a Disney movie attentively now and the kitchen overlooked that area, so she switched on the light and sat on the table across from him. He could feel her watching him closely, she was so nervous.

“I ummm, I’ve got some photos we took and a shirt of hers and a necklace and watch…some CD’s, a notebook, just with doodles and random things.” He said as he opened it up and when he glanced up at her she was staring intently at him.

“Did you even go to her funeral? I don’t remember seeing you there.” She stated and he shook his head.

“I couldn’t. When I found out I was…” he stopped and remembered how it felt when that CIA guy took her away, he thought it had lost her forever, “I lost my fucking mind. I was in hysterics.” He said with a frown. “ I completely shut down. I didn’t want to accept it, going meant it was real. I got pulled out of school and went back to England. I regret not going though.” He shared, “I ummm…that night we had gone out with friends and I had this plan that I was going to tell her that I loved her.” He smiled sadly, “I chickened out as we were saying goodbye and I just kissed her, like I normally would. I tried to show her what I was trying to say when I kissed her.” He explained and he could see Evelyn’s tears silently falling, “If I had only known that, that was our final goodbye I would’ve been more brave.” He explained and Evelyn broke out in a sob and he instinctively reached out for her hand and she squeezed it, “I’m so sorry.” He apologized again and she shook her head.

“No, it’s alright. It’s just so unfair.” She gasped through her tears, “She deserved to be happy and it breaks my heart that she never got to experience that for herself. People in high school were so mean to her.” Evelyn explained.

“Yeah, she told me that.” He nodded.

“Yeah, she was excited to start a new life and be with new people and just start over. She knew that leaving would make everything better.” Evelyn explained, “I know she was really happy out there. She was right?” Evelyn whimpered and Harry nodded with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, so incredibly happy.” He assured her and she nodded and pulled their hands apart to wipe under her eyes.

“Ughhh…” she sniffled and gathered herself for a second, “Can you show me the stuff?”

“Of course.” He nodded and started putting things down for her to see. She looked through the notebook and then through the pictures they had taken a while back and Evelyn smiled down at one of Y/N with a plate of pancakes in her hands.

“Her and her pancake obsession.” She giggled and Harry nodded, “And always with that same haircut… she was so resistant to changing it.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, “I really like the next one.” He said and she moved on to it. This was one they had taken when they first got to Italy, Evelyn obviously didn’t know that, but it was a really nice one. He was smooshing a big kiss to her cheek as she laughed, her eyes were shut tight, but it exuded pure happiness. Evelyn smiled down at it.

“You don’t want this one?” She asked glancing up at him.

“I did keep some of us but they’re a little more platonic though granted the whole engagement thing.” He explained.

“Right, of course.” She responded and he nodded.

She then moved on to the other items, the university t-shirt she liked to wear, it still kind of smelled like her perfume. He then explained that she had left a bottle of her favorite spray and lotion at his place if she wanted it. It was in his luggage and Evelyn was so excited to hear that and explained that, that particular scent had been discontinued. Y/N didn’t smell like that anymore, but maybe she had always planned for something like this to get done for her family or perhaps she just had it stashed away for personal reasons, as a reminder of her old life. Evelyn told him stories about the CD’s Y/N had put in there, they were autographed and they had been looking for them everywhere, it was nice to have some of her favorite items back. Evelyn ended up asking him over for dinner, he accepted and she assured that she would call Y/N’s parents to see if they would want to come over as well. She was on the phone with them for at least 20 minutes in another room and in the end they agreed, surprisingly.

While they waited Evelyn talked a bit about herself, how she had moved on and was holding up. One of her kids was named after Y/N, their father, her boyfriend, was fire fighter, so he worked long hours but he was a great dad and partner and they were getting married soon. Evelyn wanted to know more about Harry though and how he had moved on and so he told her the things he and Y/N had agreed upon and all in all, it was good. He could see where Y/N got her great qualities from. They had just finished laughing about some funny story from Y/N’s childhood and Evelyn switched gears again.

“So, is this your first serious relationship after her?” Evelyn asked carefully and he nodded, just as he and Y/N had rehearsed.

“It was hard to move on because I genuinely believe she’s my soulmate.” He said, choosing to speak in present tense, because it was the truth, they are soulmates.

“Is?” Evelyn asked confused and he smiled and nodded.

“Personally, I believe we only have one soulmate and she’s mine. I think we can love plenty of people, but there’s always that one person who just…I don’t know, you just know, you know?” He explained with a smile and Evelyn nodded, “From the very first moment you meet them, something deep inside of them calls to something deep inside of you.” He explained, “I’d never felt that way before, she worked her way in to easily and just flipped my entire world upside down, but it helped me see that there was more to life, you know? It put a lot into perspective for me and she…saved me in a way. To me, everything about her was special from the start. She was so beautiful and put together. Her smile. The sound of her voice, her laugh, the way it looks like she’s pouting or upset when she’s thinking about something.” Evelyn giggled, “Know that one, do you?” He chuckled.

“Definitely.” She smiled, “You know, I…don’t really remember what she sounds like.” Evelyn confessed sadly, “Her laugh I can hear it in my head clear as day, but her voice is… it’s fading.” She sniffled and he reached for her hand again and she squeezed it tight. Suddenly the doorbell rang again and she shot up, “Oh my. , they’re here!” She said and Harry felt extremely nervous again. He felt like he was going to be sick, “Just, wait here.” She said and he nodded.

He could heard Y/N’s mom crying a bit as they made some muffled conversation and after about five minutes Evelyn came back in with Y/N’s parents, they looked exactly as she had described them. Y/N was almost a splitting image of her father with noticeable traces of her mother. They just looked him over for a moment, looking more calm now. There wasn’t judgement on their faces, it was more like they were trying to picture Y/N with him. In his opinion it was easy to picture them together, they looked like they belonged together, but maybe they couldn’t see that.

“Hi, I’m Harry.” He said with a small smile and Y/N’s father extended his hand out to him and Harry shook it firmly and Y/N’s mother followed.

“Everyone sit, chat for a minute while I get the girls fed.” Evelyn said and they all nodded and sat down. The looked at the box of Y/N’s things.

“Ummm, these are the things of hers that I’ve had with me. She had left them in my apartment. It’s not much.” He said and they looked inside. Her dad grabbed the photos right away and they both smiled as they looked through them quietly together, but no more tears were shed from them. They looked through the rest of the box and he just gave them their time to look at the relics from her old life. He wished he could show them how beautiful she looked on their wedding day. If they could only see her now, they would be so proud of her. They finally turned their attention back to him and her mother spoke up.

“You looked quite happy in the pictures together.” She smiled and Harry nodded.

“Best few months of my life.” He said softly.

“She hadn’t mentioned that she was seeing anyone.” Her mother said.

“I think she was a little bit embarrassed of me.” He confessed with a smile, “Well, more of being in a relationship in general. She was so goal driven and focused, she came in knowing what she wanted those four years to look like and I think she just didn’t want anyone to know that she could potentially be distracted. I wasn’t really a part of the plan.” He explained and her father chuckled.

“Sounds about right.” Harry nodded with a smile, “So you were with her on that day?” He asked Harry and he nodded, “We’ve always wondered if it wasn’t an accident. If maybe it was too much pressure with her classes and working and trying to maintain her scholarship. Maybe she was having trouble with other people? She always had issues with bullies in school.” He explained with a frown.

“We were scared that she was just unhappy being away from home. We’re all very close.” Her mother added, “H-how was she doing?”

“She was doing really well. I did hear a lot about you all. She missed you a lot, specially her grandfather, she wished that he had been around to see it all.” He explained and they nodded attentively as he spoke, “She was really happy.” He confirmed, “I’d like to think I played a part in that.” He smiled, “She was still really focused and driven, she had her priorities straight. But ummm, she was allowing herself to live life as well. She was very well-liked among her classmates and our friends, she integrated herself a lot more in my group after her roommate joined the sorority?” They nodded in understanding.

“How did you meet?” Her mother asked and Harry smiled to himself for a moment.

“At a tattoo shop.” He said and her eyebrows arched up.

“Really?”

“Yes, she came to ask about it. I think she maybe wanted something after her grandfather and I was working there at the front. Helped pay the school bills.” He explained, “It was cute, she was so nervous and she had clearly been reading tons of things on the internet and had the most complex questions.” He chuckled, “She was wearing a school hoodie and I told her I also studied there and turns out we were just a building away from each other that whole time.” He hummed.

They seemed happy to be talking about her. To have some real insight as to what her life was like. Harry apologized for not being at her funeral as Y/N had told him to do and also for showing up after all that time, but they didn’t care. They were just happy that she had been happy and loved. He did give Evelyn the spray and lotion that Y/N had sent, she knew her cousin well and they let Evelyn keep some things and they took the rest. At the end of the night they all hugged him goodbye and they wished him luck in his relationship and hoped that he could too fully heal from it all. They were so sweet and caring and kind and he was glad that he could leave them with some peace as Y/N hoped, he was also pleased that he would be able to tell her that her family were alright. He had planned on staying longer but he didn’t want to wait to share and he also didn’t want to tell her everything over the phone. He got a flight on standby and headed straight back to Italy on a red eye, he could check in on Angelo’s mum another time. He let Y/N know he was coming back right away and that made her anxious, she left for their nearest airport though and waited in that city for him until he arrived the following afternoon.

*********

“Hey, love.” He hummed as he hurried into the car and they kissed briefly.

“Hi. How was it?” She asked right away, “Wait, actually don’t tell me just yet, let’s get in to the hotel first, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He smiled and they took off. Y/N was completely on edge. She was quiet the whole drive and he just let her simmer and formulate the questions she wanted to asked as he just held her thigh.

When they finally arrived and got into their room she let out a big exhale before she burst into tears.

“Oh baby, c’mere.” He said quietly and she rushed into his arms and he held her tight as she sobbed. She wept to him about how she regretted not going with him and seeing them or hearing them for herself and truly that was her one chance. There was absolutely no reason for Harry to ever go back now and she felt like she had made a mistake in not doing as he had suggested. He let her be sad about this for however long she wanted before he would share about how they were. She just needed a moment to express how conflicted she felt about all of this; how she regretted accepting the CIA’s recruiting offer, but without that she never would have met him. She regretted hurting her family the way she did, not being able to see her parents get old and look after them, she was their only child, it was supposed to be her taking care of them. She regretted not having them there on their wedding day. As she confessed to all of these things she had been holding onto for months Harry knew not to take it all personally.

Harry understood full well the conflicting feelings because while he could never regret her, he did regret getting too ambitious as a young kid to the point that he got mixed up with the mafia. Because of this he wasted so much precious time with his family and even with his friends. He hurt them and put them in harm’s way and if he could take it all back he would, but that also meant that he would have never met Y/N. But for one reason or another, they were on the paths they were on and he’d like to think that it was because they were meant to be together. Soon her crying subsided and he was able to answer her questions, tell her about her niece who was named after, how happy her family was to hear that she had in fact been happy during her time away, and obviously, it was hard for them, but they seemed to have moved on well enough. Hearing that did make her feel better as she laid against his chest as his fingers stroked her hair and she listened on until he was done.

“Thank you for doing that for me, baby. I know that it couldn’t have been easy.” She said, cheek smushed into his warm and sturdy chest.

“I would do anything for you, no matter how hard or impossible it seemed.” He assured as he planted a kiss on her head and she smiled, because she knew it was the absolute truth.

There was no one else she had ever trusted with this, just him. There was no one else she had loved so much that she felt would be excellent candidates to meet her family. There was no one who worked on themselves and bore their soul to her the way he did. There was no one that she had ever envisioned building a life and family with, just him. And it was not lost on her how absolutely lucky she got to have their paths cross. To have him also notice her. To let her in. To love her. Y/N’s vision started to blur with tears, they were happy tears but overwhelmed tears because there was this paralyzing feeling in her chest as it dawned on her just how much she loved him. She earnestly believed that she had reached the capacity of love with how she felt, but right now it was clear to her that there was just so much more. It bordered on painful, she couldn’t just contain this feeling inside. She pressed herself up against his chest as she sniffled and he frowned.

“Oh baby, what’s the matter?” He asked and she shook her head as she grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his in a powerful and searing kiss. The kind of kiss that put the entire world on pause. The kind if kiss that seemed like it was a life or death situation and after a few seconds of being caught off guard Harry looped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him as the kiss evolved into a make out session that was making his body buzz in excitement. Gradually, they started to slow down to catch their breaths and she nudged her nose against his playfully, this made his smile and she kissed kissed him through it before pulling back slightly as their eyes blinked open to meet each other’s gaze.

“I feel so much for you, I couldn’t articulate it.” She explained her sudden outburst, “I can’t imagine doing life without you. I don’t even care how we came to be, I’m just happy to be here with you.” She whispered and he now lunged forward and kissed her until the fell back onto the bed upside down. In seconds they were getting undressed in between kisses and growing more and more desperate for each other. Harry’s lips trailed down her body, the skin left in his wake of kisses seemed to sear at the absence of his lips but she was eager for him to reach his intended destination. Her delicate fingers combed into his hair and pushed him down faster and he chuckled, but did as she was suggesting. She put a leg over his shoulder as the other fell open, making space for him. She could feel his fast exhales against her heat, making her clench in anticipation as his lips skimmed her lower lips.

“So.” Kiss, “Fucking.” Kiss, “Perfect.” kiss. She moaned at the slight friction to her clit with his lips and soft, little kisses, “You’re a goddess.” He hummed as he buried his face against her, taking in her scent and how soft her skin was down there, he giggled as her little tuft of hair tickled beneath his nose and the vibrations of it made her gasp and buck up, the tip of his nose came into perfect contact with her throbbing, little clit. It was so red and swollen, pleading for his attention. He rolled his tongue out and licked a fat stripe up from her entrance to her clit, making sure to swirl around the little button a few times before moving back to suck at her labia gently and then to dart his tongue into her leaking, little hole. Her grip tightened into his hair and she moaned as she ground herself again his mouth and he moaned and let her move him around to where she wanted, listening to her instructions so that he could get her off. Her thighs were squeezing around his head and her grip was tight in his hair but he could care less, he would die a happy death if he were to be suffocated between her thighs. “Oh H, baby! I’m right there!” She gasped as her toes curled and the muscles of her stomach trembled from how wound up tight she was. Her orgasm came so swiftly and fiercely. It took her out like a giant wave wiping out and rolling everything in it’s path down into its depths. He moaned against her sensitive skin and gently kissed at her clit to bring her down from it all before he licked down to her entrance and delved his tongue inside, wanting to get a taste of her cum.

After a few moments of his delicate actions to bring her back down he kissed his way back up her body, taking his time to lick and suck at his favorite parts of her body before making it to her lips, his absolute favorite place to kiss. As they started to make out he adjusted her legs beneath him so that he could slick his cock up with her arousal and cum.

“You make me absolutely crazy for you.” He snarled as he felt the warm slick of her juices coat his prick up. It made him feral to feel how her body seemed to react to his. How wet she got for him was an absolute turn on. He viewed it as her body’s way of inviting him in. Her body craved his and wanted him to fill her up and pound her pussy to the heavens. He adjusted his hips and without a warning sunk into her in one fluid thrust and he moaned into her mouth as she gasped as their bodies connected perfectly. He had sunk in balls deep from how wet she was, but inside she was still adjusting to his size and he kept the pressure of his hips against hers. Slowly he started to sink in a little deeper, “Fuck, I can feel you opening up for me, baby.” He whispered and something about that made her moan out in ecstasy.

“Please.” She whimpered and he kissed her.

“Please what?” He asked before he swirled his hips with a wet squelch and she smiled in ecstasy.

“I-I don’t even know.” She mumbled and he hummed in amusement and he pressed himself up to a kneeling position and she gasped as he reached even deeper, she could feel it in the pit of her stomach and she winced as the little bite of pain before she adjusted to it moments later. Already, her eyes were hazy with ecstasy, she was love drunk and cock drunk at the same time.

He glanced down to see how such a tight little thing had opened right up for his big cock and taken it to the hilt. It genuinely amazed him how he fit inside. He grabbed her hands and intertwined their fingers before he pressed her hands down into the mattress as he drew out a bit, making her wince and then she cried out his name as he surged back in and ground into her. She squeezed at his hands as her eyes searched his, “More. Please, more.” She pleaded and he nodded as he drew back out again and thrust in again and this time he kept going.

Every time his cock slid back in he was celebrated with a wet smacking sound and her pretty moans that emerged from her throat in perfect time with his thrusts. He spared a glance down at the way they moved together and he shivered with pleasure as he groaned and glanced back up to her as he picked up his pace. The fire in his belly was lit and was quickly starting to spread through his entire body.

“Fuck, you’re already gonna make me come.” He groaned and she smiled.

“Harder.” She mewled and he let go of one of her hands to grip her hip and have more leverage as his hips piston med powerfully into hers until he could see the tip of his cock bulging slightly at her lower stomach. The headboard of the hotel bed pounded rhythmically with his thrusts and the frame creaked along with her, as if it too was praising Harry for the railing he was giving Y/N. She cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, but she didn’t want him to stop as he absolutely demolished her. She swore he was splitting her in two but it felt like heaven and her entire body was vibrating with the pleasure of an impeding orgasm. They heard some pounding on the wall and he chuckled, “We have to be quiet.” She gasped.

“Fuck that guy. Wanna hear you. Love to hear you.” He groaned as he went harder and she groaned with each thrust and again, their neighbor pounded on the wall.

“Un po' di discrezione per favore!” They heard a muffled shout through the wall and they both laughed through the pleasure at their neighbor’s plea for some discretion.

“Stai zitto! Abbiamo quasi finito!” Harry shouted back with laughter and they could hear the man start cursing them out and despite that he worked harder and harder, the pounding of the headboard grew more intense as the man’s knocks into the wall also increased, probably thinking he was ruining the mood, but Y/N started to circle her clit in time to the fast raps against the wall and she was burning up from the inside out, gasping and moaning Harry’s name as he pounded right into her g-spot.

“There! Oh fuck, right there, daddy!” She yelped and he moaned loudly at the name slipped from her mouth without her even thinking about it.

“Fuck, say it again.” He panted hoarsely.

“Daddy! I’m going to come, daddy!” She nearly sobbed as her little fingers were a blur against her slippery cunt as she started to tighten up around his cock.

“Fuck, come for, daddy. All over my cock, baby.” He panted tiredly and she tensed up and her toes curled as she just clutched to his back as she started to moan uncontrollably, her nails raked down the hot and sweaty skin of his back as she pulsed around him and soaked him, she was squirting and he fought the pressure of it to stay inside, “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” He growled and his grip on her tightened and he sobbed against her mouth as ropes of his cum shot deep inside of her, filling her as he moaned her name. Her pulsing walls milked every bit of his cum and his thrusts slowed but didn’t stop completely as they kissed heatedly before parting with a gasp to take a proper breath. Y/N’s vision was blurry with tears and Harry’s was completely splotchy with little colors, that really had taken it out of him. He pressed himself up from her body with shaky arms, getting ready to pull out but she hugged around him.

“Not yet.” She spoke hoarsely and he smiled and nestled back into her arms and kissed at the top of her right breast.

“I love you. You’re my whole world.” He whispered and she smiled and kissed the top of his head.

“Love you, light of my life.” She whispered tiredly.

#writing #compromised #compromised fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #mafia harry #mafiarry #harry styles smut #harry styles flulff #harry styles angst #husband harry styles #husband harry #husbandrry #harry styles daddy kink #0nlythrowharrybeaux

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welovelouisandbucky · 2 years

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Something Worth To Live

Prologue

Warning: violence, bad writing skills? (Pls do inform if you find any)

Summary: With horrible circumstances in life, and toxic and abusive relationship, Y/n thinks it's better to just end things. She knows suicide is not the answer, but she's too weak to find others. One Friday night, after conjuring up some courage and mind, she heads to the bridge (that is actually famous for suicides) to end her life and that's where she meets a stranger, a really pretty, handsome and cute stranger. Who encourages her to jump off the bridge.

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

I love you… you know that right?"

Looking up at him as tears starts falling down your cheeks, blurring your vision. Sereve pain shoots through your chest as you get up from the floor and make your way over to him as those three words replay in your mind again and again.

I love you I love you I love you

You can't help but think when was the last time you felt it, or when was the last time he truly meant it? You slightly shake your head as soft chuckle leaves your mouth. You stop when you reach him, you stumble a little when you look at his green eyes, those damn green eyes! That once held nothing but love for you in those, but now all you can see is hatred. There was a time when those eyes made you feel safe; those eyes felt like home to you, but that changed–he changed. Everything changed.

For the first time you didn't let yourself show how scared you are, you're not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's still the stronger one here. You promised yourself that you'll change. You made a promise to yourself that you're not going to be that scared, weak little girlfriend; who's always worried that she'll do something that'll incite her boyfriend. No, you're not that Y/n anymore, you have changed; you're much more stronger than that.

You stand there with daring eyes almost as you're encouraging him to make move, and that seems to irk him more if that's even possible. With sudden confidence you push him with your hands, your sudden move catches him off guard and he stumbles backward, but he quickly catches his balance and prevents himself from falling.

"No I don't," you say as you take one step closer to him and he remains still looking at you with deadly eyes," I don't actually, How would I know when you're busy showing your so-called 'love' to that whore of yours?" You spat in his face. In less than a second you feel stinging pain on your right cheek, you remain still—but not because of the shock, you keep taking deep breaths calming your nerves keeping your composure.

Hello guys!!!! sorry this is really short but I promise chapter will be long 😭I'm so excited to finally share this story with y'all!! I had this idea in my head for a long time but was confused where to start it like how do I write the prologue? But luckily I figured it out!! I hope you enjoyed it!!

And pls ignore my mistakes, English is not my first language, and I would really appreciate positive criticism!! And do inform me if you want to be added to the SWTL taglist! See ya soon with chapter one:)

Check out my Louis Tomlinson fanfic here

I'll be posting chapter one of that story on Sunday and the chapter one of this story on Tuesday:)

#harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles x indian!reader #indian!reader #something worth to live #prolouge #harry styles angst #harry styles #harry styles concept #one direction #niall #angst #slow burn #series #gangrry #mafiarry #chefarry

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stylesharrys · 2 months

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all that you are | part 1 [mafiarry]

authors note: okay it's here!! part one of this mini-series, it is a long one and there's lots of violence (and will be in all parts of this series), i will list all warnings so if you’re not comfortable reading, i totally understand!! if you are, grab yourself some snacks and get comfy cos you're in for a long ride! i really hope you guys love this series like i do <3 p.s. this used to be an oc fic, i have edited to make it reader instead, so if you come across any certain descriptions of the readers hair colour, skin etc. let me know as they were all supposed to be edited out!

word count: 19,592

warnings: mentions of blood and violence, sexual themes, mentions of r*pe, swearing, arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drug use

summary: y/n is thrown into her new life as harry’s wife, and harry has to learn and prepare himself to take over the new york famiglia.

Her tears have dried, though they still threaten to spill from her eyes. Eighteen is supposed to mean a party and your first sip of alcohol for a woman of the mafia.

Not for Y/N.

It’s an engagement party and her final social activity as a free woman. As if she could ever have been considered free. Women are never free. Only free for men to fuck and abuse whenever they please.

Y/N has never liked parties and she doesn’t exactly like people, either. Well, the only parties she’s ever attended are those of strict rules and professionalism and, maybe, being locked away your whole life does that to someone; makes you socially awkward and nervous in the presence of boys.

She shivers at the thought of a boy even noticing her, and now she’s engaged to the most attractive Made Man she’s ever heard of.

Her mother stands behind her, stern face and dressed in a tight lavender dress. She zips up Y/N’s cream dress and admires it in the mirror for a moment.

It’s form-fitting, small ruffles across the waist and it ends a few inches above her knees. It’s the most daring and revealing dress Y/N has ever worn, and it bubbles nerves and excitement within her.

Gaia gazes at her through the mirror with a distant look in her eyes. She can remember when she was Y/N’s age, married off to Giovanni. She can remember the fear and terror that consumed her body… that still does.

Y/N frowns. “Are you okay, Mother?”

It’s meant to come out much louder than it does. She sounds like a frail child. She is. Gaia snaps out of her trance and plasters on a smile, but it’s the same smile she uses after Giovanni finishes beating her. It doesn’t sit well in her daughter's stomach.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, figlia,” she tells her.

Y/N keeps her back to her and continues to admire the dress in the tall mirror. At least she’ll look pretty. Gaia brushes the top of her shoulders and twirls her curled locks around her finger.

“Behave tonight. This is more than just an engagement party. We can’t have Stefano changing his mind.” She warns.

She isn’t thinking about the heartache and pain Y/N will have to endure, she’s thinking about the countless nights that Giovanni will abuse her if this wedding doesn’t happen. Y/N nods her head, nerves bubbling in her stomach.

In thirty minutes, she’ll be surrounded by strangers as they judge and prod her. In thirty minutes, she’ll be meeting her future husband; one of the youngest, most dangerous Made Men in New York.

She’s known for two months now, since she got home from school and Giovanni broke the news. She spent the night fighting, sobbing and kicking and begging him not to throw her away like that. Begged for him not to hand her over to a man of such power, who will beat and hurt and abuse her.

Though when she thinks about it, it’s not much different from her current home life. She gave up fighting after he beat her bloody and blue. Her lip is still swollen from it and a soft bruise is hidden under her eye.

It’s lucky Gaia knows how to apply makeup. Y/N supposes she’s had enough bruises and scars of her own to hide over the years.

She thinks she should consider herself lucky, really. Most girls in Y/N’s position never even meet their husbands before their wedding day. At least she will have an entire night to find out who her sick father has chosen and have three years to prepare herself. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

Her eyes meet Gaia’s in the mirror. She hopes to find a hint of sadness in them, a flicker of guilt that she’s allowing her husband to do such a thing to their daughter. Y/N can’t hate her, no matter how much she tries. Gaia doesn’t have a choice in the matter. This is business between her father and the New York Famiglia. She’ll only get a black eye and a bollocking if she tries to intervene.

“Where’s Bruno?” Y/N asks softly, voice hoarse from the way she cried herself to sleep the night before.

She hasn’t seen her brother in almost a week, and she’s beginning to wonder if he’s actually going to show up at the party tonight. She needs his support—not that he’ll ever really offer any. He’s too far up Giovanni’s ass.

Bruno Saccaro is his father's son. Dirty, loyal and merciless. He’s only three years older than Y/N, but every inch of his black heart serves for one thing only.

Murder.

He was initiated at thirteen, just two days after his first kill, where he tortured and maimed a man twice his age before stabbing him in the side of the head with his beloved knife. He’s sick, just like Giovanni.

Though when they were children, he was her protector, the second he took his first kill, he became blood-hungry and protecting his baby sister was at the bottom of his list of priorities. Y/N’s sure she isn’t even on the list anymore. The only thing Bruno cares about is pussy and the Famiglia. She wouldn’t be surprised if Bruno was the one that suggested marrying her off in the first place.

“Business,” Gaia responds. “He’ll be at the party later, don’t worry.” She must sense her discomfort, but even her words don’t soothe her.

Y/N can’t imagine what her brother will be like at the party. Will no doubt have his cock buried in some girl within the first ten minutes. The thought makes her heave. He’s not the brother she used to have. He’s just like their father now.

A soft tap on the door breaks Y/N from her daze and Maria pops her head through the crack in the door. Short pink hair is the first thing she sees and a relieved smile breaks onto her face.

Maria Saccaro. Y/N’s first and only cousin, barely three weeks younger than her and the only descendent of Romero Saccaro, Giovanni’s younger brother and Y/N’s Uncle.

“Auntie Gaia, can I have a moment with Y/N, please?” She asks softly, like butter wouldn’t melt on that pierced tongue of hers.

Y/N almost rolls her eyes at the girl. Her bright pink hair gives away everything anyone needs to know. Maria doesn’t obey rules, she breaks them and finds loopholes just to piss her father off.

Y/N remembers one night when they were ten, when Maria told her she purposely did stupid shit in hopes of giving her father a heart attack so he’d finally die. Six years later and she’s still unsuccessful. Though, Y/N did hear that her Uncle Romero has to watch his cholesterol. Maybe her cousin's insolence is finally paying off.

Gaia hums and leaves the room, not sparing a second glance at her niece, keeping the door ajar and Maria rolls her eyes, flouncing down onto the chaise lounge.

“God, your Mom is such a drip,” she scoffs.

Y/N stifles a laugh and stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother may be good at makeup but nothing will ever cover up the insecurity in her eyes and three weeks of sleep deprivation under them.

Y/N shakes her head and turns to her cousin. “What did Uncle Romero say about your hair?” she asks, concern swimming in her eyes and Maria lifts her bangs from her face.

There’s a thick purple bruise across her temple and an angry line of stitching down the centre of it. Y/N gasps, hand covering her mouth with wide eyes. Maria shakes her hand in dismissal.

“He clubbed me with his fucking ashtray,” she sighs. “The look on his face was totally worth it, though,” she tries to break out in a grin but Y/N sees right through it.

Maria may act like she doesn’t give a shit, but really, she’s just as scared of her father as Y/N is of hers.

Romero Saccaro, Consigliere to his older brother, Giovanni, and widowed father to Maria. He’s been married twice already in his lifetime. His first wife was killed by his own hands and his second by suicide.

Maria could never blame her Mother for taking the easy way out. She often contemplates it herself. It’s a surprise that he hasn’t tried to marry Maria off yet to form an alliance. Though perhaps it’s for the best that no one has tried. She’s too temperamental, too disobedient. Her husband would get tired of her and give her back.

When an arranged marriage occurs, the husband is promised a beautiful, unscathed wife. While Maria is incredibly beautiful and just as much of a virgin as Y/N, she’s also gobby and dominant. She fights back, and that kind of attitude will get her killed. Maybe Romero does care for his daughter after all. Or maybe his ego is too big for his daughter to ruin.

“Can’t believe you’re meeting your future husband today. Happy fucking birthday,” she mutters out, words laced with venom.

Y/N sighs, shoulders sagging as the nerves come back with full force. “He’s worse than Father. Harry Dellucci kills for fun. At least Father waits until he has good reason to murder somebody… not that it makes it any better,” she mumbles.

Maria stares at her cousin with an incredulous look. “Uncle Giovanni is a fifty-year-old fuck-tard with bigger tits than me,” she begins, trying not to laugh at Y/N’s grimace. “Harry Styles-Dellucci is a twenty-two-year-old God, with a body of a God, the voice of a God-“

“Okay, I get it. He’s God-like,” Y/N cuts her off through a burst of laughter, cheeks flushed and Maria howls that maniacal laugh with her.

“Who’s God-like?” A thick, northern voice booms through their laughter and the room falls silent.

Y/N jumps in her skin out of fear, shrivels into herself as she turns on her feet. A tall, brown-haired man stands before them, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips in a cynical yet playful manner and Y/N’s heart plummets to her knees.

In all of his 6 foot glory, Harry Styles-Dellucci stands tall, thick body clad in a typical oxford suit and Y/N gulps at the hard sight of him.

Harry eyes his future bride. Soft hair curled and twisted into an elegant updo, gentle makeup on her brazen features, but the look in her eyes screams terror. She’s tiny. He knew she was only eighteen, but God, he hoped she’d be somewhat of a woman already. But she isn’t, she’s a child, and Harry struggles to keep that smirk on his lips.

She’s a child.

Mike stands beside him, eyes focused on Maria and her bright pink hair. She catches his intense gaze, the flirtatious smirk on his lips that screams mischief and she blushes, returning the look with false confidence.

Though she may try, even Maria is a blushing mess in the presence of mafia men. No amount of hair dye and secret piercings in the world can ever change that.

“Does Uncle Giovanni know you’re up here?” Maria quips and Harry turns to her, brows raised.

He knows who she is, who all of Y/N’s family and her tiny group of socialites are. He did his homework. He takes in her pink hair, the attitude in her eyes and the way she pops her hip out with a hand resting on it. Definitely the troublemaker.

“Giovanni sent me up here. I want to be alone with my fiancée for a moment before the celebrations begin,” he tells her.

God, his voice drips sex and the sound of it alone has both fear and comfort setting in Y/N’s stomach, and an unrelenting pulsing between her legs. She knows that feeling all too well, though she’ll never admit to it.

Y/N bites back a gasp and clears her throat. Harry watches her nervously twiddling her thumbs. “Is that even allowed? You’re not married yet.” Maria reminds him.

And thank God, Harry thinks to himself. She’s just a child.

“Maria, it’s okay. If Father sent him up, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a little while,” she nods to her cousin but Maria doesn’t want to leave her alone with the notorious Made Man and his right-hand man.

Harry notices her hesitancy.

“Mikey, why don’t you escort Maria downstairs.” His eyes never leave Y/N as he speaks in a slow, dulcet tone, but her eyes remain glued to the floor. Goosebumps break out onto her skin, but she isn’t cold.

Mike silently escorts the young girl out and closes the door behind him, leaving the soon-to-be couple alone. Harry squints at her. She’s curled into herself, fear dripping off her body in waves.

He takes a tentative step toward her, hands in his pockets and retrieves a small velvet box. Harry opens it and offers it to the girl.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers.

With arms around her middle, Y/N finally looks up at him and his breath is lodged in his throat. She’s beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. Bright eyes and soft, gentle skin that he wants nothing more than to caress. If she’s this gorgeous now, Harry can’t comprehend what she’ll be like in three years time.

Being so up close, he sees her properly. The perfect slope of her nose, the sparkle in her distant eyes. He can see the sparse dotting of freckles across her nose and cheeks beneath the thin layer of makeup, the twitch in the arch of her shaped brows, the fullness of her painted lips.

Y/N takes the box from him slowly. The golden band stares right back at her, a thick diamond sitting in the centre and she lets out a shaky breath.

“It’s beautiful,” she forces herself to mutter out but Harry can see she’s trying to bite back a sob.

It is beautiful… but it’s plain, generic. A wedding ring should be personal, should mean something. Harry takes it from the box and gently reaches for her hand. Her skin is warm, even softer than it looks and his lips twitch. Y/N purses her lips. His fingers are rough and cold as he slides the ring onto her finger and just like that, she’s his.

The ring hangs heavy on her hand. A golden cage. She bites back another cry.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, hands close to her chest again and Harry tilts his head.

He can read her body like a book and he’s only known her for a few moments. There’s fear in the way she holds herself, but now her eyes are void of emotion, like she’s suddenly completely coming to terms with what will happen. Like she’s accepted it — like she’s empty.

Y/N looks back down to her feet and a strand of beautifully curled hair falls into her face. Harry reaches to brush it back, wonders if it’s also as soft as it looks, but she flinches back and he stills. Harry frowns. What has Giovanni done to the girl?

“Y/N,” he speaks softly, regarding the girl with a tone he’s only ever shown to his mother and sister.

The sound of her name slipping from his lips has her peering up at him, crystal eyes boring into his emerald ones and his heart leaps.

So fucking beautiful.

He reaches a hand against her face again and caresses her warm cheek. She flushes under his touch but doesn’t flinch away.

“Are you scared of me?” He asks.

Y/N gulps and lets out a shaky breath. “You’re a Made Man. You kill and you torture. Of course, I’m afraid of you,” she breathes and it’s the first proper sentence she’s directly said to him… that she’s afraid.

Harry remains quiet, letting himself revel in the sound of her voice. Silky soft, just like her skin and hair.

He dips his face down so he’s level with her. Even with her four-inch heels, he still towers above her, Y/N’s eyes level with his clavicle.

“I kill and torture those who deserve it, those who betray me,” he tells her. “But you are going to be my wife, Y/N. And fear has no place in a marriage.”

She dares to gaze up at him, his face stoic as she notices the sparse hairs that coat his chin and upper lip and she wishes she could read what he’s thinking, like he can read her. Her eyes are dazzling up at him, thick and dark lashes fluttering beneath the thin coating of mascara on them.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“I’ve never not been afraid,” she admits and she isn’t sure why she’s telling him.

What if he uses the knowledge to prey on her? What if he laughs in her face? She doesn’t know why she tells him, but the bubbling in the pit of her stomach stops when she does. The confession burns something in the pit of Harry’s stomach and it’s only now that he notices the subtle discolouration beneath her left eye.

Bruises.

His thumb brushes over the soft skin and she shudders, tries to shy away but he keeps her head in place.

“He won’t hurt you anymore.”

Harry’s cocky smirk is gone as he peers down at her, a promising glint in his eyes and she’s never heard anything so tender and honest. She wants to believe him, that he won’t hurt her anymore. But she isn’t Harry’s wife yet, so Giovanni still has free reign over what he does to his daughter, no matter what Harry tries to promise.

Y/N nods her head and takes a step back. She avoids his gaze and Harry knows she doesn’t believe him. The wedding isn’t for another three years. Three years of being under Giovanni’s hold and dreading the day they’re bound for life.

He never asked for this marriage either, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make his wife’s life a living hell. He’s seen the pain and torture Stefano inflicts on his Mother and in early years, on his sister too, and he’d rather be slaughtered than to inflict that same pain on another so undeserving.

He always promised himself that whether he marries for love or for the Famiglia, he’ll never lay a hand on his wife. Never do anything to hurt her.

Harry wishes to change many things when he becomes Capo, but what men do to their wives can never be one of them. Once married, the woman becomes the man’s possession, and not even a Capo dei Capi can decide what husbands do to their wives. Willing or not.

Y/N doesn’t say anything on the matter though, she knows how it works and she’s too couped up in her own thoughts. She doesn’t want to argue back, so she bites her tongue and remains silent.

She doesn’t want to be one of those submissive housewives that keeps a nice house and their husband's bed warm. She doesn't want to be silent like her Mother. But she has to be realistic, and in her unfortunate luck, she’ll never be able to marry for love. She'll never have the freedom of going anywhere without a guard, or have a job or go to college. She'll never make friends with women her age, or go clubbing and sleep around a little.

She’s his possession.

Her life was signed away the day she was born. Hell, Giovanni started seeking eligible husbands when she was still in the womb, it didn’t matter that they were already in their 20’s at the time. She’s considering herself lucky that Harry is only four years older than her.

She’s come to terms with it. Of never being able to make any decisions for herself. Of never having freedom. Of never feeling loved or safe. She’s spent her whole life in denial, hoping, praying that a fairytale Prince would crash into her life and sweep her off her feet, take her away from the mafia and the pain. She’s always known better, but maybe now it’s only just sunk in.

She glances back down at the golden cage on her finger. A beautiful ring to bind her to a lifetime of misery.

“Our fathers think it’s best if we arrive together.” His rugged voice cuts through the silence again.

Y/N clears her throat and nods her head, patting down the soft material of her dress and it clings to her body even tighter than before. Harry stifles a groan at the sight of her round hips and straightens his back. The longer he watches her, the less childlike she looks.

He offers his hand to her, palm outstretched and Y/N gawks at it like it’s from another planet. His fingers are adorned with intricately styled rings and he almost forgets she’s probably never held a man’s hand before.

He’ll be her first everything and the thought alone makes him twitch in excitement. She takes his warm hand with a hidden blush on her cheeks.

When they arrive at the doors, all eyes are on him and her. Hushed whispers echo through the ballroom, talk of her beauty and how he’s going to corrupt and break her. Harry smirks at the attention, he always has been one for the spotlight, but Y/N cowers into herself.

Her grip on his hand becomes tighter but she doesn’t notice it. Harry doesn’t say anything.

He tightens his hold on hers just enough for the reassurance she needs. Harry leads them both into the ballroom, soft music playing from the little string quartet in the corner and it looks like a fairytale wedding.

But it’s not.

It’s a forced engagement party for an arranged marriage that she doesn’t have a choice in. Harry had the choice of who he could marry, he wasn’t going to complain about the situation when she wasn’t given the same.

The party consists of uncomfortable dancing, heavy alcohol and Y/N and Harry’s families subtly digging at the other. She’s been tucked under his heavy arm for over an hour, a third glass of champagne in her hand and she bravely ignores the warning look on Giovanni’s face.

He told her before the party she was allowed two glasses at most. She knows what happens when she disobeys him, yet she finds herself finishing the third glass and reaching for a fourth.

Harry notices, too. He squeezes her hip each time she finishes a glass. It’s not a warning, nor a recommendation to stop. It’s a reminder of what Giovanni will do if she continues. It’s his way of trying to protect her while he can’t just yet. She ignores it, nonetheless. Maybe a good beating might make her feel a little more alive.

As his cousins leave their side, she lets out a deep breath and her shoulders relax with her exhale. Before Harry can say anything else, a broad figure is making its way over and he feels Y/N stiffen beside him again.

He reaches down for her hand, their fingers bumping and he loops his pinkie finger around hers. The touch doesn’t go unnoticed by the guest as he holds his hand out for Harry to shake.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” his gruff voice speaks and Y/N peers up through her lashes.

Dante Vitiello, The Boss.

People quaked in Harry’s presence, but in Dante’s? There were hardly any survivors. He’s a ruthless killer, initiated at the age of 11 after he killed a man with his bare hands. Y/N supposes that’s where he got his nickname from; Dante ‘The Vice’ Vitiello. She shudders under his gaze. She doesn’t know the man, only the stories that brave souls dared to chatter.

But Harry… Harry knows Dante. He trained with him when he was younger and they both thought themselves as friendly colleagues, a few stressed nights often sharing one another's company in Harry’s club, surrounded by a few women that they tended to pass around.

They had a bond, one Harry knew would always secure his position as future Capo and Dante always knew Harry would come through. Then there’s that one thing they both have in common; a mutual hatred for the fucked system their ancestors put in place; arranged marriages, the presentation of the sheets, disrespecting women.

Harry thanks him as Dante addresses Y/N, palm barely open as he offers a soft hold. She takes his hand and Dante brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. He can feel her body stiffen further but it’s tradition. He drops her hand gently and she curls closer to Harry again. Even in the mere hours of knowing him, she seeks comfort in his embrace.

Harry says nothing.

Dante doesn’t look back at her. Though she appears much older than just eighteen, he’s nearing thirty and the last thing he wants is to make her even more uncomfortable. Besides, he remembers how he felt when the last Boss kissed his fiancée’s hand and eyed her up like a piece of meat, all those years ago.

“I’m sure Stefano and Giovanni will talk to you later about the arrangement but I’d like to let you know in advance,” Dante begins.

His accent is much thicker since the last time Harry saw him. He’s a typical Italian man. Tall and broad, dark hair, structured face and a well-maintained stubble.

“The wedding is set for October 16th…” he turns to Y/N, “... two weeks after your twenty-first birthday. The wedding will be here, again, and after the formalities and traditions, the next day you’ll both go back to New York.” All three wince at the sugar-coated mention of the bloody sheets but Y/N is the only one that makes it known.

She zones out after that, too caught in her own thoughts. Harry’s attractive, undeniably, but it doesn’t make the idea of having to sleep with him on their wedding night any easier.

Maybe if he was a family friend that she grew up with and was forced to marry, it wouldn’t be so bad. She’d have that bond of trust and familiarity with him, but that’s not the case. She doesn’t know him, therefore she can’t trust him. Every man in her life has beaten and abused her. Every man apart from Gomez.

Her eyes flutter across the hall in search of him. Now that she’s thought of him, she doesn’t remember seeing him since he came with her to the Saccaro Mansion. She searches and searches until she finds him standing off to the side, hands folded in front of him.

His dark blond hair is swept back in a formal quiff and his suit is tight on his body. Y/N doesn’t shudder when she looks at him, instead, she finds a sense of relief and safety wash over her.

Antonio Gomez has been by her side since she was born. He was Giovanni’s right-hand man when he first became Capo and was trusted with the job of protecting his little baby girl when she was born.

Gomez was only twenty when he was trusted with her life and had vowed to himself to always protect her. She still remembers the first time Giovanni hit her. She was five and had dropped her water on the rug.

She remembers the sting of her Father’s hand across her chubby face and the way Gomez ran for him, pinned him against the wall. But she remembers the sound of Giovanni’s gun exploding as he put a bullet in Gomez’ thigh as a warning. He never protected Y/N from him again, despite how much he wanted to.

“Y/N?” she hears Harry’s drawled voice call her name and she snaps her eyes away from her guard and back up to her fiancée.

“I need to speak with my Father. Would you like to come or join your family?” he asks her quietly and she reaches up to scratch at the bridge of her nose, a nervous habit, when she realises their pinkies are still linked.

He lets go and she clears her throat, taking a small step back and patting down the dress that hasn’t given her the confidence she hoped it would.

“Uh, I’ll go see Maria,” she mumbles with pursed lips and awkwardly walks past him, not standing around long enough for him to reach down and kiss her cheek in a polite manner.

Instead, he watches her walk away to her gushing, pink-haired cousin who has definitely drunk at least two bottles of champagne in the past hour. He waits until Y/N reaches her and he sees her shoulders relax, then a hand sits on his and he turns, his Father already by his side.

“She’s a real beauty, Harry. Don’t know how you can wait another three years for your wedding day.” Stefano’s perverted voice leaks through his ears.

Harry tries not to grimace or put a bullet in his leg for his comment. “I like my women with consent,” he mumbles, eyes back on her curved frame as she nervously wrings her hands while listening to Maria.

Stefano barks out a laugh, like not wanting to rape someone is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Suit yourself.”

He thinks that’ll be the end of it, that no more will be said about his fiancée, but Mike joins them both, eyes alert and posture sturdy. He reaches Harry and stands beside him, hands folded across his chest.

“Pretty little thing you got over there,” he remarks teasingly, though his voice holds no threat. He’s just stating facts but it still doesn’t sit well with Harry.

Mike has been his guard for three years now, and was one of Stefano’s soldiers beforehand. Harry and Mike have always been close, always shared too much between them both and Harry’s right-hand man and best friend, Jeff.

The three of them often spend their nights at the club, fucked between six or seven girls with strobe lights flashing. It’s a much more regular occurrence than when Harry does it with Dante.

He supposes there won’t be any more of that when he’s married.

He hums. Y/N’s eyes find him as she listens to something Maria says. She holds his gaze but something is off. Her body is rigid as she stands straight but her shoulders are slumped. Harry stares at her for another moment, eyes squinted when he notices hers are void of emotion.

She stares at him, like he’s not even there. Her face is blank, an expression that his soldiers have taken years to master. Harry gulps down something he doesn’t understand.

He hopes he hasn’t already broken her.

When the evening is over and the guests have left, Y/N and Harry are standing idly by the exit. Their separate cars are waiting for them as they say their goodbyes, families watching from their cars. She hasn’t relaxed much as the night progressed and now that she’s standing back by his side, her shoulders are stiff again and there’s a lump in her throat.

She knows she won’t be seeing him for another three years, that this is a temporary goodbye. Her heart begins to thump. Is he going to kiss her? Is he allowed? They’re not married yet but they will be.

Harry senses her quarrel and reaches for her hand, pulling out a little flip phone from his inner jacket pocket and turns her palm upright, sitting it in her hand. Y/N frowns, fingers closing around the old device and she looks up at him with pinched brows and an upturned lip.

“Um… what…” she doesn’t quite know what to say, doesn’t know how to ask him why he’s giving her a brick burner phone.

Harry reaches for her other hand and brings it over the phone, covering it and holding her hands in his. “My number’s in there and so is Mikey’s in case ya can’t reach me. I don’t know if your Father allows you t’have one, but now you do,” he explains briefly.

She doesn’t tell Harry that she’s never been allowed one, that she’ll no doubt get a black eye and a bloody lip for hiding it from Giovanni.

Instead, her tongue swipes across her lower lip and she nods. “Thank you.”

She isn’t sure what she’s thanking him for? It’s an old burner phone with two numbers on it. She can’t access the internet, can’t play games. No doubt all other numbers are blocked and she’ll only be able to call him and his guard, but she still feels a sense of relief? Maybe because he gave her that little bit of freedom… could it even be considered that?

“If he lays a hand on you in these next three years, I want you to promise you’ll tell me. I don’t care what time it is, you tell me.” His face is stoic, stern and set jaw.

She can see the seriousness in his eyes and she nods, like she’s hypnotised by the way his concern and worry flitters in his eyes. Maybe she is, she’s never seen that look directed to her before, at least not for a very long time.

“I promise,” Y/N swears, her eyes on his, and for a moment, she forgets the whole arrangement, that he’s going to be her husband for the rest of her life.

Because for that fleeting second, she feels like a shy girl in front of a handsome man that makes her heart flutter. For a blink of an eye, she feels normal as he gazes down at her with a look she can’t point. But that’s all it is. A moment and a look.

He doesn’t expect her to actually tell him, not when he can tell how embarrassed she feels when it’s mentioned. So when he’s on the private jet back to New York that night and he gets a text, his heart sinks to his feet. He’d left her for three hours and Giovanni had his grubby hands on her already, punishing her for something she didn’t tell him.

From: Y/N

What was it that you said? That he wouldn’t hurt me anymore?

He calls her immediately, but before the first ring can sound through his ear, the call is ended. His grip on the phone tightens and it takes everything in him not to throw it across the fucking plane. He can’t afford Stefano pressuring him about what’s wrong, he can’t have him knowing that he wants to protect Y/N. He can’t show that weakness.

Mike sits beside him, clicking his tongue as Jeff sits across from them. No one says anything, they don’t need to. Harry always took pride in his stoic expressions in times of agitation or fear, but the boys know him better than that.

They grew with him, watched him master that monstrous cold exterior that refuses to falter when he was beaten and tortured. Harry has been forced to bite his tongue in worse scenarios, so why is something so minuscule so difficult for him?

“This isn’t going to end well. You’ve met her once and you’re getting attached,” Mike says quietly, lips barely moving so as to not attract Stefano’s attention while he talks on the phone to Harry’s Mother, no doubt scolding Anne for something he did wrong.

Harry’s knee is bouncing, a nervous tick he hasn’t shown in years. He’s pissed that Stefano wouldn’t allow Anne and Gemma to the engagement party, Harry wanted his mother and sister to meet his fiancée, needed that support, even if he would never admit that out loud.

Jeff reaches over and kicks Harry’s ankle, stopping the jitters and he gnaws at his inner cheek, nostrils flaring and gently shaking his head.

“Not getting attached, Mikey. Just don’t like the idea of her Father laying a hand on her,” he seethes quietly through gritted teeth and Jeff squints.

He’s known Harry his entire life, knows how he feels about the lack of respect women receive in mafia families, how much he fucking loves his Mum and Gemma. And he knows he’s never seen Harry this pissed over some girl before, much less some girl he’s met once and hasn’t even touched.

Nothing else is said on the matter and in the following sixteen months, he doesn’t hear from her. He calls often and most nights the call ends before it rings, and others, all it does is dial in his ears.

He knows she’s kept the phone on, that she’s been reading the two-weekly check-in texts that he makes. He can see every call she makes and texts she sends, but she doesn’t send or receive any. Only from him.

He’s found it difficult. He’s never believed in affairs or homewrecking, call him old fashioned, and being in an engagement to a woman he doesn’t know or love has taken its toll. He knew he’d never be able to marry for love, that he would have had to marry for the Famiglia, for power and status. And he truly thought he’d have no problem in remaining faithful to his future wife, that whether they grew to love each other or not, she would be able to quench his thirst.

But Harry didn’t expect to have to wait three years after getting engaged and for his fiancée to be only just legal when they first met. To him, a four-year age gap is nothing, but remembering she’s now just turned nineteen and he’s almost twenty-three, he feels a bit funny about the whole situation.

He’s cut down on his fucks of the week. No more endless nights at the club with Mike and Jeff, fucking six or seven of the dancers between them. He’s been re-acquainted with his hand and on the odd occasion that it isn’t enough, he’s found himself in one of the private rooms in the back of the bar with Lily, one of his favourite dancers and fucks, just like tonight.

It’s been a long day of calls and fights and bullets and blood, and he needed to fuck his frustrations out somewhere. It’s no surprise to him when he comes much sooner than usual, but Lily doesn’t seem to be complaining.

Harry always had a knack to make her cum long before he did. She’s panting and giggling, pushing those bleach blonde locks from her face as she readjusts her outfit and spins on her heels, dazed eyes and drunken smile.

Harry doesn’t need to look at her to know. She watches him tug off the condom and shove his softening, yet still impressive length back in his pants with a smirk, bottom lip caught between her teeth as he fixes his suit to a more presentable standard.

It’s when he’s tucking his shirt in that she notices the silver band around his ring finger and she’s reminded he’s engaged. Lily isn’t stupid, she’s been in the business long enough to know it’s an arranged one.

“You get married in a few months, right? Wonder if she’ll be able to satisfy you like I can… though you are here now, so I suppose she can’t,” she snickers, eyes dark like she thinks Harry is about to laugh and agree, like he’s pleased with his infidelity.

He isn’t. His eyes darken and not in the way she wants them to, bile rising to his throat. He’ll be damned if he lets anyone talk about his fiancée like that.

“Probably not, I hear she’s a little virgin anyway. But hey, maybe her Dad broke her in for y-”

Her back is smashing against the wall, air knocked out of her before she can finish her sentence. Harry’s got his ring-clad fingers gripping her chin and jaw, nose pressed to hers and he’s seething.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, Lily. Just because we fuck, doesn’t mean you can get away with shit. Have a little respect, or I won’t go so easy on your old man next week when he doesn’t have my fuckin’ money.”

He doesn’t stand around long enough to see the fear in her eyes grow. Instead, he lets go, grabs his gun and leaves the girl standing in shock, silent tears rolling down her rosy cheeks and a trembling jaw.

Harry’s never laid a forceful hand on a woman until now and he thought he’d hate himself for it, but right now, all he can think about is Y/N. Of the disgusting things Lily said.

He texts her when he gets to his car, his usual ‘just checking in, how are things?’ and he grows impatient when she doesn’t respond immediately. But she never responds immediately; usually, she never responds at all. He’s speeding his way back to the penthouse, knuckles white as he grips the wheel and it only takes the usual 20-minute-drive just six.

By the time he’s storming into the elevator and punching in the security code to get to his floor, his phone is vibrating in his pocket and he fishes it out quickly, shoulders tensing when he sees Maria’s name after he made it very clear to only contact him if it was an emergency for Y/N. He unlocks the phone and reads over the message.

From: Maria

He found the phone.

Harry’s blood runs cold, sweat dotting at his hairline and for a second, he feels an unfamiliar lump climb up his throat. All he sees is red and his chest is heaving. He hasn’t felt this angry in a long time, so rageful. Harry shakes his head, teeth gritted and jaw set hard. How fucking stupid does Giovanni think he is that Harry wouldn’t find out? That he wouldn’t have given another phone to Maria in case something like this happened? How fucking brave is he, laying a hand on something that belongs to Harry? How fucking dare he.

Harry’s dialling numbers before his mind can even catch up to his action and after the first three rings sound through his ears, he lets out a growl and seethes through his teeth.

“Move the wedding forward. I want her with me now.”

It feels like déjà vu, standing in front of the same curved mirror with her mother standing behind her, pulling the same distasteful expression.

The flowers decorating the bride’s suit are the same; beige carnation bouquets with baby’s breath scattered sparsely between. The same, stupid classical music plays from the same scratched record, and the same golden cage is still wrapped tight around her ring finger.

The only thing that’s changed is her.

She’s grown a few inches taller and she’s filled out nicely. Her hips have rounded well and her breasts are full and perky. The chubby cheeks left sometime six months ago and her facial structure is strong and defined.

Her eyes are different now, not the same as they were two years ago, and she’s cut most of her hair. It sits just below her shoulders now, gappy bangs long across her forehead.

She got Maria to cut it on her birthday.

Gaia is struggling behind her daughter, lacing the back bodice of her wedding dress. It’s pretty—gorgeous, actually; a long mesh train with embroidered roses and petals across the hem of it.

A perfect fit across the top, a generous amount of suitable cleavage and as it meets her hips, the embroidery fades and the dress gently puffs out, accentuating her curves just a little more.

She feels pretty, like a Princess, but she silently reminds herself this isn’t a fairytale wedding, no matter how badly she wishes it was. Y/N watches herself in the mirror, short hair curled and pinned perfectly, wavy bangs framing her face and she looks ethereal.

She doesn’t have a black eye beneath the makeup like last time, nor does she have a busted lip.

Gaia tugs at the back of the dress again.

“Succhialo, figlia,” she scolds and Y/N rolls her eyes but she sucks her stomach in even more, nonetheless.

The last few months leading up to the wedding have been gruelling, to say the least. Y/N has been poked and prodded by several tailors and designers and she’ll be happy once this whole thing is over with.

She’s also had time to think. With Harry’s insistent texts and sporadic calls, she’s felt a little more at ease about the situation, like she was starting to get to know him a little better through the blank messages.

But as she stands in front of the mirror again, her nerves are ten times bigger than two years ago.

Giovanni only told her three months ago that the wedding was being moved forward—that she’ll be a married woman before her both her 20th and 21st birthday.

She didn’t question it, not when by the looks of his face, it definitely wasn’t his idea and he didn’t have much of a say in the matter.

When she found out, a part of her was thankful, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders because Giovanni wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore. He hasn’t laid a hand on her since the night he found the burner phone.

She stupidly left it on the bed while she showered and Harry had texted her. She didn’t hear the message alert, nor her Father waiting for her in her room.

She did, however, know about the mistake she made when she left the bathroom in a towel and his fist kissed her cheek in a brisk greeting.

A lump rises in her throat at the memory. It didn’t stop there, why would it. She cried herself to sleep that night and every night after for three weeks.

She was unrecognisable for twelve days, bloody and bruised and banned from leaving the house. She tried to end it all that night, after he left her sobbing on her floor, naked and vulnerable.

Maria had stopped her just in time, snuck into her bedroom through the window and held her until she passed out.

She hasn’t looked her parents in the eye since. Gaia had stood by and watched it all, face stoic and void of emotion. Bruno ignored her screams of terror and begs of mercy.

And Gomez?

Gomez was shot in the foot for trying to intervene. She’s only had one thing giving her the will to power through this, to marry a monster.

Fear has no place in a marriage.

Maybe this arrangement will be her escape.

Y/N zones out as Gaia finishes lacing the back of her dress, too busy trying to calm the erratic thumping in her chest and will the pooling tears away. She blindly follows her mother out of the suite and down the stairs, holding her dress gently bunched in her hands.

It’s like everything moves in slow motion and all sounds are white noise. She can hear her heart thumping against her rib cage, can feel the sweat growing between her fingers, the lump forming in her throat as she notices Giovanni waiting for her outside of the chapel doors.

She stands behind him silently, not daring to make eye contact as Gaia takes a side entrance to join the rest of the guests.

They wait, Giovanni watching his daughter with cautious eyes. She’s too busy staring at the dark oak doors, knowing her future is waiting on the other side, another ring to bind her angelic soul to his tainted one.

Y/N feels her eyes stinging with burning tears as Giovanni loops his arm around hers and the double doors slowly open.

“You look beautiful, figlia,” he tells her through a strained whisper, like the words any normal father would shower his daughter with were burning his lungs.

The lump swells back in her throat. Of all her eighteen years of life, he’s never once said something so fatherly.

She can feel her chest aching, the idea that maybe seeing his little girl marry a stranger is hurting his heart like it’s hurting hers, but as she peers up at him for the first time in months, she sees a smile pulling on his lips.

His heart isn’t hurting. He’s just happy to get a power boost.

Y/N doesn’t pay attention to the piano ballad that begins to play softly as her father guides her through the arch of the chapel. She doesn’t acknowledge her family and his standing from their seats and cooing at the gorgeous young woman she’s turned into.

She stares at her feet as they take their first step into purgatory, before her eyes find the devil.

Harry freezes from his view at the altar. Clad in a slick red suit with ungodly curls, his mouth runs dry and knees almost buckle.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

He can feel his heart thumping in his chest as she gets closer, can feel the anger bubble in his blood at the sight of Giovanni’s arm looped around hers.

His hands are tensed into tight fists in front of him, jaw ticking and teeth gritted. But then he glances back at his bride and his heart skips a pulse.

She doesn’t have a veil over her head and he can see just how gorgeous she’s become. He hasn’t seen her in two years and now he feels speechless.

She dodges his gaze as her father kisses her cheek briskly, leaving her to walk the little step of the platform and stand before their families.

She turns to Harry, hands trembling as she picks at her nails. His gaze wavers from her face, drinking her in and as he eyes her generous chest, he notices the little green emerald that sits across her neck.

The emerald necklace he gifted her for her birthday two weeks ago.

Neither of them pay attention to the priest as she looks up at him through fluttering lashes. He’s grown even more attractive in the past two years and it’s intimidating.

She feels small under his soft gaze, but not unsafe. Maybe she just feels uncomfortable knowing what’s to come between them, what will be expected of her as his new wife.

Over his shoulder, Bruno stands tall with a cocky smirk and shimmering eyes. He doesn’t watch his baby sister be sold off to a killer. Instead, his eyes are on a blonde from Harry’s family, a dirty smirk on his lips.

Mike stands behind him, stuck out like a sore thumb. The only redhead in the entire chapel yet he fits right in.

It’s Mike behind them both that catches Y/N’s attention. He’s watching her closely, just like Gomez has for years but there’s something off in the way he observes her; like he’s memorising every tick and nerve in her body.

Her eyes land back on Harry but he’s been watching her the entire time. He doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to know his Mother is gleaming and sister picking her nails in boredom. He doesn’t need to look to know how apprehensive Maria is.

Neither of them can focus on what the official says. Y/N doesn’t dare look anywhere besides his face, trying to gauge his reaction, his mood.

He’s stoic as ever but a hint of a smirk tugs at the deep corners of his pink lips and his eyes are twinkling with a thrill of the unknown.

Hers are swimming in tears.

She tries to master his same expression, to prove she feels emptiness––but while her heart thumps shallowly in her chest, her eyes sting with the realisation that this is the end.

“You may now say your vows.”

The words drum through her ears and Harry nods, taking her hands in his open palms. Neither of them look away and Harry knows his Mother is trying to bite back a cry.

She always wanted her boy to marry for love, not for this.

Their official holds a small cream cushion, two pretty bands sitting on the velvet and Harry reaches for Y/N’s, lining it with her ring finger.

“With this ring, I take thee to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love and care, and cherish every inch of your body and soul. I promise to protect and provide and stand by your side through light and dark. I promise my soul and heart to you, to our future children. I promise to love you until my final breath.”

Y/N feels a piece of her heart break as he slides the ring down her finger, greeting the engagement and promising their unprecedented future.

Her facade doesn’t falter and her mind draws blank.

She doesn’t think about her childhood, when Bruno used to carry her around the house on his back, when she and Maria painted each other's nails, when Gaia taught her Italian for the first time, or when Giovanni taught her how to tie her shoes.

Y/N’s mind rolls blank, like the person she was before is dead. Like she’s just been rebirthed into another life.

She reaches for the cushion and takes the band between her fingers, crowning it over Harry’s first knuckle as she looks back up at him.

An arranged marriage takes two, but she knows she’s in this alone.

“With this ring, I take thee to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, to love and support. I promise to stand by your side through the dark and the light. I offer my heart and soul, my body and mind. I promise to be eternally yours, until my final breath.”

And as she slides the ring past his second knuckle and the official pronounces them man and wife, the shaking begins.

Her body screams, igniting in a blazing fire, eyes frantic in terror and uncertainty.

But Harry gently cups his palms around her soft cheeks and with eyes on her, he kneels just enough to press his soft lips to her full ones and the uncomfortable burning eases into a welcoming warmth.

Her screams are silenced as his kiss offers a sense of comfort, like a mother and child’s first touch.

Y/N Saccaro dies a coward, but Y/N Styles-Delluci is born a survivor.

When they stand outside the chapel, she doesn’t have time to think about anything. She gripped his hand tightly as he led her down the aisle, ignoring the cheers of praise and excitement for the two.

They stand in the little entryway, side by side with Gomez a few steps to her side and Mike a few steps to Harry’s.

Giovanni and Gaia are the first to follow the newlyweds into the entryway, shaking Harry’s hand before moving along a few steps to shake Y/N’s.

Her parents look at her like she’s a stranger, no pained smiles or familiarity in their eyes. They move along as quickly as they came and Maria follows, her Father close behind.

She shakes Harry’s hand timidly before moving to her cousin, eyes watering and chin trembling.

Y/N doesn’t hesitate to pull her into a quick embrace, arms strong around one another and Y/N can feel her cousin’s heart thumping against her chest.

Romero is who pulls them both apart, offering his niece a firm handshake before a tight clasp on Maria’s shoulder pushes her away from the couple.

Y/N’s eyes are glued to them, wild in fear of what will happen to her best friend now she won’t be home to protect and comfort her.

Harry reaches for her hand, notices her worry and loops his pinky around hers, squeezing just enough to get her attention. When she turns back to him, she blinks back tears and her blurry vision settles on three bodies that stand by Harry’s side.

Stefano stands in front of the two women, shaking his son's hand with a proud smirk before he moves along to his daughter-in-law, reaching for her hand and kissing her knuckles. There’s a dirty smirk on his lips and Y/N squeezes Harry’s finger.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N. You’re a Delluci now,” he grins.

She slips her hand from his hold and takes a tentative step closer to Harry’s side.

“Styles-Delluci,” Harry corrects him, jaw set and eyes gleaming a fire he’s desperate to burn.

Stefano grits his teeth behind closed lips and walks on, allowing Y/N to take a brief breath of relief before she’s quickly introduced to the rest of his immediate family.

Anne stands in front of the girl, eyes regarding her with concern and kindness. In a cream dress, she reaches for both of Y/N’s hands and smiles kindly at the young woman.

“My name is Anne, I’m Harry’s Mum,” she introduces herself.

Y/N looks back to her mother-in-law; a beautiful woman with kind eyes and a welcoming smile. Every inch of her screams maternal natures, something she’s lacked all her life.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she replies politely, allowing Anne to pull her into a cautious embrace, close enough to ensure warmth, but far enough to not warrant fear.

She squeezes her softly, lips finding her ear.

“You’re safe with him, I promise,” Anne swears and Y/N can do nothing but nod.

When they pull away, Gemma stands by her mother with a gleaming smile and she sticks her hand out for her sister-in-law to shake.

“I’m Gemma, Harry’s little sister… and you're really pretty,” Gemma grins through chubby cheeks, a silent squeal of excitement.

She doesn’t understand the full extent of the marriage, Harry and Anne have always tried to shield the fifteen-year-old from the harsh truths of the world she was born into.

Y/N’s eyes widen and a shy smile tugs at the corners of her pink painted lips. She can feel her heart flutter in her chest and she reaches to shake Gemma’s hand softly.

Part of her nerves seems to falter around the Delluci women and Y/N misses the way Harry watches the exchange with thin lips but sparkling eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gemma. And you’re very pretty, too,” Y/N tells the young girl, a soft smile on her lips and the youngest Delluci blushes under her gaze, looping her arm around her mothers.

Harry reaches down slightly, bending to his mother’s level and pressing a kiss to her temple before turning to his sister to set his lips to the top of her head.

“We’ll see you both in there,” he tells them.

Y/N watches with curious eyes, can’t take her gaze off him as he stands by her side and their fingers brush again. This time, neither of them link their pinkies.

“They’re nice,” she finally speaks, gaze fluttering to the ground when Harry cranes his neck to look at her.

He hums with a small nod.

He doesn’t say anything else as the rest of the hundreds of family and friends filter their way through the little entrance, shaking the hands of the couple and offering words of congratulations to Harry.

Between great uncles and underbosses, Dante greets the newlyweds again. This time, he isn’t alone. There’s a gorgeous blonde on his arm, tucked in his side with a loving smile as she stares up at The Boss.

“Harry, Y/N, congratulations,” he shakes Harry’s hand first then reaches for Y/N.

He clasps another hand over her knuckles and nods politely. The blonde hugs Harry as he thanks her for coming and she turns Y/N, a bright smile on her lips.

“You make such a beautiful bride!” she gushes. “My name's Daigle, I’m Dante’s wife.”

Y/N’s eyes widen as she’s pulled into a warm embrace and another bundle of relief is whispered in her ear.

“You got lucky with Harry.”

When she pulls away, Y/N’s eyes are swimming with tears of relief and gratitude. The couple congratulates them again as they make their way toward the banquet hall.

As Y/N’s about to say something to her husband, to tell him she didn’t know Dante had a wife, his hand sits at the bottom of her back and pulls her to his side, effectively cutting her off before she can even start.

“Congratulations my boy, what an impressive little bride you’ve got yourself,” a dark voice rattles through her ears and Y/N feels herself coil into Harry’s side.

The man is a little shorter than her husband, dark hair on his balding scalp and a slight podge to his lower stomach. He looks at the young bride with a sickening grin that awakens something in the pit of her stomach.

This is what she’s used to.

The lingering looks from pervy uncles and passers-by. Being subjected to nothing but a pretty face, even since she was young.

“Uncle Salvatore,” Harry greets through pursed lips and gritted teeth.

Salvatore’s eyes are glued to Y/N’s chest and Harry’s blood is boiling, knows he’s going red in the face and the vein in his neck is no doubt ready to pop.

Salvatore reaches for Y/N’s hand and kisses her knuckles, gazing up at her with a creepy stare but it doesn’t make her squirm in discomfort. This is the look she’s grown accustomed to over the years.

She’s mastered her poker face when old men hit on her, touch her. For Y/N, this is the norm. What she isn’t used to and what does make her curl into Harry’s side, is Salvatore’s son.

“Nino Delluci…” he begins, eyes wonton as they reach the bride, “... And you are a sight for sore eyes. What in Hell are you doing with my cousin?”

She doesn’t break eye contact when he smirks down at her with hungry eyes, gnawing on his bottom lip. She doesn’t break eye contact when he reaches for her hand and kisses her knuckles.

Twice.

She only breaks eye contact when he hums something incoherent along the lines of ‘I’d love to make you bleed’ under his breath, while taking her in.

Harry’s grip on his wife’s side tightens.

“Can we go inside now?” she asks softly, a hand reaching up to rest on his chest.

Harry squares his shoulders, eyes firm on his cousin which only encourages Nino’s smug face. She doesn’t notice the small boy that gazes up at her with a lovestruck smile from Nino’s side, nor does she notice Salvatore smirking grimly by the door.

“So soon, baby? Don’t you wanna get to know your new family a little better?” Nino taunts, taking a step toward her but Harry’s quicker.

He gently nudges Y/N behind his towering frame and squares up to Nino, nostrils flared.

“Back the fuck off, Nino.” Harry’s jaw is locked in place, lips pursed.

His cousin chuckles to himself, hands up in surrender.

Gomez and Mike remain still in their positions. They know not to interfere unless it’s completely necessary. Nino walks away, the young boy following as Salvatore holds the door open for them.

Harry doesn’t let his posture fall as they walk through the door, and Y/N lets out a shaky breath, skin breaking out in goosebumps as she rolls her shoulders and twists her neck.

Harry turns back to her, eyes cautious as he tilts his head to get a better look. He knows Nino shook her up, that she’s used to the unwanted attention from older men, but never from men so close to her age.

But what he doesn’t realise is while Y/N heard him raise his voice, her mind was sent into turmoil. Will he shout at her like that? Should she feel safe because she knows he can protect her? Would he use that same tone with her if she doesn’t do what he wants?

“Your cousin’s a little forward,” she coughs out nervously, shaking her head to rid the thoughts. Harry’s heart ticks and he scoffs a laugh.

“My cousin’s a cunt,” he corrects her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she stares up at him, innocence swimming in her features. Harry forgets again that she’s been raised a young lady, that she’s never been around much potty mouth, and he realises just how much he’s going to corrupt her in this marriage.

As much as Harry wants to protect his wife, he won’t pretend to be someone he isn’t for the sake of an arranged marriage. His potty mouth is just one of the things she’ll have to get used to.

“Stay away from Nino. You may think I’m a monster, but I have my morals. Nino is merciless and evil. He will do whatever he wants and take whatever he pleases. No matter the consequences,” he warns her, his voice timid.

Y/N doesn’t say anything. She thinks her father is the same, so what could someone two decades younger do to scare her?

She listens, though; takes what he said into consideration. Y/N doesn’t have any desire to talk to Nino ever again.

Her fork has scraped across her full plate for almost forty minutes now. She’s not hungry, not even in the slightest.

Harry’s been watching her, peering over to his side and often gently nudging his elbow into her arm, nodding to the plate which only makes her shoulders slump.

Y/N hasn’t listened to any of the speeches from their families, nor has she acknowledged much of what Harry’s said to her all evening.

But Harry has hardly looked away.

He isn’t angry, he couldn’t be. But she’s only eaten a few mouthfuls of the meat and she’s almost drunk her body weight in champagne and rosé. He’s a little worried. Her eyes have been drooping for over fifteen minutes and her vibrant skin looks sickly grey.

The last thing he wants is for her to embarrass them both and throw up all over the head table.

“The potatoes are good,” he murmurs slowly in her ear.

She slowly turns her head to look at him, blinking slowly. She cranes her neck and purses her lips together. He’s handsome, that much she can’t deny, and in her hazy, drunken state, she wonders what her lips would feel like on hers again.

He is her husband now, surely she could just… reach up… connect their lips…

“And now for the first dance!” Y/N sinks back a little more in her chair and she suddenly feels sick for even considering kissing him again.

He’s dangerous and he’s a monster.

He doesn’t love you, he doesn’t care for you, Y/N, stop this!

Harry raises from his seat as all eyes find the couple.. He’s danced drunkenly with his Mother enough times to know how to cover up her alcohol intolerance.

She’s tucked in his side, their fingers intertwined as he guides them both to the dancefloor. The lights are dim, a twinkle from the fairy lights that are wrapped around wooden beams and looped across curtains illuminating the stuffy room.

With her hand in his, he raises it above her head and gently nudges her hip to spin beneath his arm. She falls gently into his chest with a soft ‘oof’ and Harry wraps his arms around her.

Y/N’s head rests against his hard pecs as he slowly begins to dance with her. She can’t keep up, though, the heels are too high in her drunken state and her knees start to buckle.

She feels her cheeks warm in embarrassment and she knows all eyes are on them. Harry hears her whine softly in his chest and with one arm around her waist, he gently lifts her so her feet sit on his.

He guides her arms around his neck, slowly stepping in a slow dance and she dares to peek up at him, innocent eyes and swollen lips. Harry cranes his neck down to meet her gaze, and those gorgeous eyes are swimming with threatening tears.

He doesn’t understand that she’s grateful for something as little as saving her from embarrassment. He doesn’t understand that she can’t understand her own thoughts.

Neither of them pay attention to the beautiful ballad that plays through the hall, nor do they appreciate the piano or string quartet that carries their dance.

Instead, she stares at him like it’ll be the last time she ever sees his handsome face, and he watches her with wonder and curiosity while his heart begs his mind not to break her like he knows he inevitably will.

For a fleeting moment, all of her doubts slip from her mind. She lets herself believe that he will protect her from pain and anguish, that he will love and cherish her, that she will be able to trust him for the rest of her life.

For a fleeting moment, she forgets again that this isn’t a marriage bound by love, but one bound by honour and duty.

Then the music stops and Salvatore takes a step forward, raising a half-empty glass in the air to gain the attention of the other guests.

“You wed her, now bed her!”

And just like that, the entirety of the male wedding party is chanting those same words. The pair pull apart and Y/N’s wide eyes are scanning the crowd for an escape. She knows she can’t run but fuck, does she want to.

“Wed her, now bed her! Wed her, now bed her!”

“Make a masterpiece on those sheets for us, Harry.”

“Make your wife bleed!”

“Wed her, now bed her!”

Her frantic eyes find those of her mothers, but Gaia looks away, head tilted and chin up like she can’t bear the thought of looking in her daughter's desperate eyes. Y/N begins to panic, chest rising and falling in terror and she finds Maria.

Her cousin stares at her in shock, jaw slack and she tries to run for her, to pull her away from Harry but Mike stands in her way, blocking her from Y/N and ultimately escorting her out of the hall.

Gomez watches, swallowing the bile that crawls up his throat. He knew this day would come, that one day Y/N would be married off and forced into a new life she never agreed to.

He just hoped it wouldn’t hurt so much watching it happen. With a tentative hand on her back, Harry leads Y/N out of the hall. The party follows, cheering them on as she holds her dress and wanders up the thick spiral stairs.

Their room is at the very far end of the hall, away from all the others where they can’t be disturbed… or heard.

Her heart thumps sporadically and the alcohol feels like it’s worn off, and she’s far too aware of what’s supposed to happen now.

Because now, she has to give herself to him. Every inch and fibre of her entire being is about to be his, by choice or not, he’s going to take it all.

He closes the door behind them as they wander in and the frantic terror begins, surges of confidence smacking her.

Harry turns to face her, face stoic as ever and she stumbles over her feet, hands reaching out to steady herself and she shoves at his chest. Harry can smell the alcohol on her breath. He doesn’t know if it’s the first or third bottle of champagne.

He cocks a brow at her bravery and she glares up at him through droopy eyes.

“Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I’ll bow down to your every order.” She slurs, almost losing her footing.

Harry holds her up by her elbow.

He’s shocked by her sudden change in attitude and he has to bite back a laugh. Was this the real Y/N breaking through?

“Is that so?”

There’s an amused grin on his lips. He finds it fucking hilarious. He’s never been turned down by a woman before, but it’s too amusing to watch her in her drunken state for him to take her refusal as a punch to his ever-growing ego.

He was never going to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state. Maybe that’s why he’s so amused by the situation.

Y/N stumbles again.

“If you so much as force yourself on me tonight, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

It’s an empty threat, Harry’s sure of it. He squints his eyes at his wife, but she doesn’t show any signs that she’s unsure of her own words. He thinks the seriousness of the situation is starting to sober her up and she’s brave, too brave.

“Think you’re forgetting who the Capo is here, princess.” He warns.

She holds her glare as he dips his head closer to her face. He expects her to look away, to cower under his gaze like every other woman, but she doesn’t. She holds her chin high.

“You’re not Capo yet. But when you are, I will make deals impossible, I will run and believe me, I can run. I will burn you and your stupid Famiglia.”

Something flashes in his eyes, and it’s not amusement. He no longer finds her insolence funny. It’s anger. Anger that she thinks she can talk to him like that and get away with it.

But he’s conflicted. He knows she’s scared, that she’s shaking as she grits her teeth and stares in defiance.

“Then I’ll just have to torture you like all the other traitors.”

Lies. Big fat lies.

He’d never lay a hand on a woman, traitor or not. But his blood still boils at Y/N’s stubbornness. He never intended on taking what is rightfully his without her permission.

Y/N coils in disgust, a sardonic laugh slipping past her lips. Her sad smile falls as quickly as it had appeared, and she’s back to looking stoic.

“Do it, I dare you. Because I’ll just keep rebelling. I’ll publicly humiliate us both, just to see you fall.” She threatens, and Harry wants to believe it’s an empty one.

He doesn’t think he’d ever go against his own morals, but she’s beginning to wear his patience thin, not that he’s ever had much of it.

“Then I’ll put a fucking bullet through your skull.” Another fucking lie.

She steps closer, alcohol thick on her breath but she looks as sober as the day they first met.

“Baby, I’ll be pulling the trigger. My life ended the day I was born. Killing me would do us both a favour. You might as well just get it over with.”

Harry regards the girl for a moment as her voice breaks. He tries to read her, to get a glint of any flicker of emotion he can. But there’s nothing. Plain emptiness. He knows that resolve would fall under the touch of a blade or pliers pulling off her painted fingernails.

The thought of someone even touching a hair on her perfect head sends fury through his veins.

He doesn’t notice just how angry the thought makes him until the metallic taste of blood lingers on his tongue, a taste all too familiar. He’s bit into his lip.

“Forget what I said on your birthday. Fear has every place in a marriage and I hope you’re fucking terrified.”

He spits blood on the white sheets, his saliva turning it pink as it soaks into the fabric. “There, you saved your virginity for the night.”

She stares at him, shoulders sagging just an inch as she wobbles on her feet. It’s like the alcohol is making another appearance as she grimaces at him.

“Who said I was a virgin?”

When dawn breaks and light filters through the musty room, Y/N stirs from her slumber with a groggy head and unsettled stomach.

At first, she doesn’t recall the night before, but from the dull throbbing across her temples, she knows alcohol had a strong play in the evening.

It’s when she shifts in the bed, that she realises something is off.

Her bed isn’t this soft… and the sheets in her room are definitely not white cotton. She turns her head, eyes meeting the sleeping face of the notorious mobster, and she shrieks, startling him from his light slumber.

Y/N falls off the bed in an attempt to flee the situation, but when she stands, she realises she’s not in her heavy wedding dress anymore and she feels light.

Bile crawls up her throat at the realisation that she’s in his dress shirt, that she isn’t wearing a bra and while the shirt ends mid-thigh, she’s only got on those sheer panties underneath.

Harry watches her gaze trail over his body–his very naked body, besides his black boxers. She gulps at the sight, shaking her head and trying to ignore his thick thighs and toned abdomen.

Her mind conjures up the worst.

She slept with him, he took what innocence she had left.

Her thoughts are only confirmed when she notices the dark pinkish spots of blood on the sheets and she feels sick, lightheaded – and she knows it’s not from the hangover.

Harry watches her freak for a moment, watches the regret and fear flood her eyes and he quickly realises she doesn’t remember a damn thing.

He doesn’t do anything to reassure her. Doesn’t remind her that he spat blood on the sheets, or that the reason she’s in his shirt is because she struggled too much to get out of her dress and didn’t have any other clothes to change into, so he gave her his shirt.

He doesn’t tell her that he didn’t lay a hand on her, that he waited until she was asleep before laying beside her peaceful body.

“You were willing, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he breaks the silence, voice rugged and he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

She doesn’t dare look at him, arms wrapped tightly around herself and she feels ashamed, so fucking ashamed. She believes him, though. He may be a monster but he’s known to be an honourable man, a man of his words, not a liar.

“And even if you weren’t…” he stands from the bed as an insistent knocking begins to pound on their door.

“You’re my wife now, so I have the right to take what I want.”

He doesn’t believe a word he just said. He’d never force himself on her or any other woman, no matter what. That’s one thing he’ll always stay true to.

Y/N backs into the wall at his words. She ignores him opening the door with a tired grin, ignores the gossiping women of the family flooding through the room and whispering about the frail wife.

Her mind is on such an overdrive that she doesn’t see the truth right in front of her. She doesn’t realise that her thighs don’t ache and her core isn’t tender. She doesn’t notice that she doesn’t have any bruises decorating her soft skin, that Harry’s back isn’t littered in claw marks like it should be.

She believes the worst because it’s all she’s ever known.

They take the sheets with giddy smiles and gushing giggles as Harry steps into his dress pants from last night.

There’s no robe for her to cover herself with and unless she wants to wear the wedding dress that carried her into her new, caged life, she’ll have to go downstairs in Harry’s shirt and her panties.

She keeps her distance from him as they descend the staircase, arms still tight around her middle and she curls a little, just to make sure the shirt covers everything.

Everybody is watching as they enter the hall again, waiting for the bloody sheets to be presented for men to howl at and women to blush over.

Y/N keeps her eyes glued to the ground, wiggling her painted toes and biting back a cry that wants to tumble from her trembling mouth.

She ignores the cheers of pervy uncles and distant cousins, pretends she doesn’t notice the praise Harry gets and the pity looks she recieves with jealousy glares from the women.

It isn’t until the fuss dies down that she dares to look up with tear-stained cheeks and a quivering chin. Gaia still refuses to look at her from across the hall, but Maria doesn’t waste a second to see her cousin when Harry turns to talk to Mike.

“Y/N…” she breathes softly, reaching for her cousin’s arm but Y/N shy’s away from her family's touch and clears her throat, blinking back tears.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she mumbles hoarsely, shaking her head and looking away from her concerned eyes.

Maria frowns, glaring up at the tall man beside her and pointing a jabbed finger in his face.

“Hope you’re fucking proud of yourself,” she seethes.

Harry stares at the young girl. Her hair is blue now and her nose is pierced with a hoop, something he didn’t notice last night. He doesn’t entertain the girl, though. Instead, he shoves a hand in his trouser pocket and reaches for Y/N with the other.

They’re both shocked that she doesn’t cower away from his touch when he rests his palm on the small of her back.

“Let’s go get ready, then we can say goodbye. Jet leaves for New York in two hours,” he tells her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything about a honeymoon, doesn’t question why they aren’t going on one. She’s thankful they’ll only have to be on that plane for 4 hours together, there is no way in hell she could survive two weeks in complete isolation with him.

She gets ready in the bathroom, legs jelly as she changes from his shirt and her underwear. She throws the panties in the bin, not ever wanting to see them again.

She’s about to dress in what her mother packed; a beige pencil skirt and a flowy white blouse with four-inch heels, when she notices another small bag beside it.

She doesn’t need to wonder where it came from, she knows Maria found a way to pack her something more comfortable after a bad night and in preparation for a 4 hour flight.

So instead, she dresses in a pair of black leggings and an oversized grey sweater. Her hair is tied in a quick ponytail and her face is void of makeup and emotion.

She feels shy when she leaves the bathroom, wearing something so simple and looking so vulnerable. He’s dressed in another suit when she comes back into the bedroom, a simple black one with a white shirt and he’s strapping a gun to his chest when he notices her.

She looks tired, simple. She looks normal. He knows for a fact Gaia did not pack that outfit.

“You look comfy,” he mentions.

She swallows visibly and raises her chin, lips pursed as she stares at his forehead. He knows that trick. He knows she’s pretending to look him in the eye. He bites back a smile. She’s trying to hide her discomfort.

“The jet’s ready when you are. Would you like to say goodbye to your family now?”

A leather duffle bag hangs in his hand and her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek as she shakes her head.

“Um… actually, I don’t… want to say goodbye…” she admits quietly.

It’s silent for a moment as Harry’s brows bunch and he tries to figure her out.

“You know we’re not just going to New York for a weekend away, right? You’re going to be moving there, to live with me. I don’t know when you’ll next see them again,” he reminds her carefully, his words slow like he needs her to comprehend them properly.

But Y/N nods her head and relieves a breath.

“I know,” she tells him, her voice the most confident he’s ever heard and he nods once, agreeing.

“Okay, then let’s go.”

She’s been sitting beside him the entire time, curled up against the window. Neither of them have said a word, both too in their heads.

For Harry, he thinks about how he’s lied to her, how he’s letting her believe he took her innocence. He thinks about her desire to leave without saying goodbye to her family, about what was said on their wedding night, how empty she looked.

For Y/N, she thinks about her new life. She wonders if it’ll be better or worse. When she was at home, Giovanni took his frustration out on her, was cruel and abusive if she or someone else annoyed him.

She wonders if Harry will be the same when they’re back on his land, in his territory. She only remembers one thing from their wedding night. Fear has every place in a marriage, and I hope you’re terrified. She hopes he didn’t mean it.

It’s only the newlyweds on the plane and sleep comes quicker to her than she expected. The others had taken another jet, insisting that Harry and Y/N needed more time alone together. Really, it was just Anne's way of making sure Y/N didn’t feel overwhelmed on a plane full of Delluci’s.

Harry doesn’t wake her when they stop midway to get fuel. She wakes hours after he sleeps beside her, but she doesn’t wake him. Instead, she observes him for a little while; acknowledges the twitch in the corner of his lip, the little movement behind his eyelids, the gentle snores that tumble through his throat.

She appreciates his dark lashes fanned across his cheekbones, his ungodly waves. This version of him doesn’t look scary, doesn’t look monstrous. This version of Harry looks approachable, soft… dare she think… vulnerable. His jaw isn’t set and his lips aren’t pursed.

She wants to reach forward and caress his cheek, maybe one day she might.

When they land back in New York, a car is waiting for them; tinted windows and bulletproof glass. Y/N isn’t silly. Harry helps her with her bags, piling them into the trunk and they both clamber inside.

A partition separates the couple from the driver as the journey begins again. Y/N is looking out of the window, the soft evening consuming her but she already misses the Californian views.

“I recently had the penthouse redecorated to give you some sense of home there,” Harry tells her and when she turns, his eyes are already on her face.

“I want you to remember that it isn’t just a place that you live in. It’s your home now. I want you to treat it as such,” he says.

Y/N nods but she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say. How do you treat a place like a home when there’s no sense of safety?

“And as for security,” he catches her attention again before she can focus her gaze back outside the window.

“Mike will be your new guard. I’ve known him for years and he’s good. I trust him. If you want to go anywhere and I’m not around to go with you, Mike needs to be by your side.” Y/N can’t help the frown that grows on her face.

Not only is he entrusted with her life, but she doesn’t know him, she can’t trust him.

“Why can’t Gomez still be my guard? Why can’t he come here and guard me?” she questions, brows knitted.

Harry scratches his nose.

“Because while your Father trusted him in his territory, I wouldn’t trust him to protect you in mine. Where you go, Mike goes. No arguments.”

First order.

Neither of them say anything else for the remainder of the drive, but when the driver pulls up to a stop, Y/N’s eyes are wide as she stares out the window in awe.

A fifty story building stands tall before her, tucked between two slightly shorter builds. Her parents' home is massive, but this is something else.

This… this was an apartment building?

Harry doesn’t say anything as he walks her inside the lobby; everything is all white and pristine. The blonde receptionist behind the desk offers Harry a flirty smile that Y/N watches him completely ignore and something flips in her stomach. In the elevator, he reaches for the code and shows her the seven digits he punches in.

“We’re in the penthouse, right at the top. That’s the code. Only a select few know it, so don’t go telling everyone,” he warns, standing back as the doors close.

When they arrive at the penthouse, Y/N doesn’t know what to expect, but softwood undertones and fluffy rugs are not it. He guides her inside as she takes it all in.

The entirety of the first floor is open planned, white walls with gorgeous art hanging across them. The kitchen is huge, black and white and Y/N feels her heart flutter at the thought of all the baking she’ll be able to do.

She isn’t given much time to admire it before Harry leads her through the kitchen towards a staircase.

“There’s a library and a gym up here and our bedroom, my home office is up here too,” he says, leading her up the stairs and into a dark room.

He flips on the light as she follows him inside.

“Our room? You mean we’re going to share the bed every night?” there’s a twinge of panic in her voice.

Harry doesn’t think anything of it other than she’s innocent, nervous about sleeping with his body so close to hers every night. But that’s not it, at least, not all of it.

Really, Y/N doesn’t understand why he even wanted to sleep with her on their wedding night in the first place, and now he wants to share a bed with her for the rest of their lives?

She thinks it’s a pride thing, to have his wife sleep in the same bed as him. That has to be it. Because compared to Harry’s past lovers and flings that Maria graciously told her about, Y/N is repulsive – doesn’t compare.

“Yeah… why? Is that a problem for you?” he asks softly.

Y/N shakes her head quickly, clearing her throat and pulling her sweater sleeves past her hands.

“No, not at all… just didn’t think you’d want me in your bed, is all,” she admits, but she doesn’t mean it in the way Harry takes it. He smirks to himself though.

“You’re my wife, Y/N. I’ll always want you in my bed,” he flirts, watching as her cheeks blush in realisation of how she made her statement sound.

She clears her throat awkwardly and Harry places her bag on the bed.

“Anyway, make yourself at home. I have some business to attend to, so Mike will be around, but remember if you want to leave, he goes with you.”

He brushes past her without another word or a kiss to her forehead like he usually would to his mother or little sister. Y/N thinks nothing of it, she much prefers the space.

It isn’t until she begins unpacking one of her bags that she notices a wrapped gift on her nightstand with her name written on a note that sits on top of it.

You’re not a prisoner anymore x

With furrowed brows, she tears the paper off the gift and opens the box. A phone sits waiting for her, her family’s phone numbers saved along with Harry’s, Mike’s and Anne’s already. She feels tears sting her eyes and with a trembling thumb, she calls Maria.

In the week of Y/N’s new life, she’s grown accustomed to her new place of residence. She’s gotten used to the penthouse by now, knows where everything is if she needs anything.

She’s spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen (after the first few days of refraining from using anything), making cookies and brownies for her and Mike to snack on.

She’s mainly tucked herself away in the library, often draped across the chaise with a soft blanket and a good book.

That’s about all she’s grown accustomed to, though. She hasn’t seen her husband, at least, not properly. She’s been asleep when he gets home and asleep when he leaves.

Y/N tries to consider herself lucky. She’s thankful that she hasn’t had to interact with him, save for the two days in passing when he offers her a tightlipped smile before scurrying out of the door.

She doesn’t know why his lack of presence brings a sense of uneasiness, not after she’s gotten to know Mike just a little bit over the past seven days.

Y/N tries not to dwell on the fact that she knows Mike’s favourite frosting flavour but has no idea what her husband’s birthday is. She doesn’t know why part of her wishes to know Harry better, wishes for some type of emotional intimacy between them both.

Y/N knows she needs to accept the fact that she’s safe with how things are, not wish for possible problems that could endanger her in the long run.

But then, she supposes she’s never not been endangered, so what does she know? Maybe she wishes for the sense of comfortability with her new spouse because he’s already offered her something she’s never had before: safety.

Maybe she supposes safety and comfortability are meant to come hand-in-hand. Or maybe she’s just lonely, craves the intimacy she no longer has with her cousin.

Either way, she doesn’t get that relief of intimacy from Harry. Instead, she learns an odd quirk of Mike’s every couple of days and loses herself in the stories that occupy her mind.

The library has become somewhat of a safe haven. And despite having the means to remain in contact with Maria, Romero tends to keep his daughter on a tighter leash now and Y/N often worries with the wonder if it’s her fault.

She thinks Giovanni may have said something to intervene, and she’s been letting blame sit idly on her shoulders as the week slowly strolled past.

It’s been hard for Y/N. She’s been confined to the many walls of the penthouse, despite having the ability to leave (with Mike, of course, something Harry made very clear). But she doesn’t want to leave her new home with her guard.

She wants her husband to show her around and maybe show a little attention to her. She tells herself it’s because she needs the reassurance that she hasn’t done anything wrong, that she hasn’t upset him.

She needs him to do something that suggests he doesn’t have a reason to hurt her.

It’s fucked and she knows it. That hearing nothing is considered bad news to her. Y/N hates not knowing, hates uncertainty. She should be well used to it by now, that’s all her life has ever been.

But things are drastically different in New York with Harry, even if it’s only been a week and she hasn’t seen him.

It doesn’t matter that she feels lighter at the fact of no longer being in Giovanni’s reach or hold. She needs Harry to communicate. She needs to know she’s not doing anything wrong.

But Harry’s a busy man, has business to attend to and bullets to fire. He doesn’t have the time right now to reassure his virgin wife of anything.

And why should he?

Not only did she directly disrespect him but she somehow, someway crawled under his skin and made him grow defensive of the frail woman. Weakness is something he can’t afford.

But it’s not that he hasn’t wanted to.

Women cowering under his influence has never been something Harry has enjoyed, but she isn’t just any woman anymore; she’s his wife, bound by love and honour and duty, she’s his wife.

Perhaps she’s in the same boat. Putting a label on a relationship tends to force some sense of kindred feelings on people.

A marriage is the union between two undying souls, for kindred lovers and harnessed spirits. A marriage is a symbol of devotion, trust and love. Everything their relationship is not.

Maybe that’s why he silently observes her while she sleeps, making sure her breathing is steady and comfortable, and why she misses his presence when he’s gone and wants to know more.

Stories of other lovers are what seem to take her mind off things best, but also have her brain reeling and mustering up impossible scenarios in the light of day, encouraging them to run wild through her head in the dead of night.

Y/N doesn’t know whether to be thankful of them or not--whether it gives her a sense of false hope or weightless relief.

Today is no different from the past six. She wakes alone with no idea where Harry is or what he’s doing.

After her shower and getting ready for the day, she finds herself in the library, lounging across the chaise with Jane Eyre in her hands, but she can’t seem to grasp the words on the first page.

It’s with a sigh that Y/N puts the book back and allows her fingers to brush against the spines of endless stories and fantasies.

There’s not a speck of dirt on the pad of her finger when she comes to the end of the shelf and she wonders if it’s because Harry secretly loves to read or because a maid frequents.

She can’t help but suppose it’s the latter. The thought of Harry reading is somewhat amusing to Y/N, but she knows it’s not something she can just rule out. She doesn’t know the man.

She’s huffing with boredom when she’s ready to leave the room, but as her eyes flitter effortlessly across the clinically white bookcases, she catches something golden that’s tucked away at the far end of the room, shoved beneath a lip at the bottom of a case.

With a tilted head and gently furrowed brows, she goes to inspect it, pulling out a large photo album.

It’s dusty, looks like it hasn’t come out to reminisce old times in a while and Y/N blows the thick coating of fine powder off. There’s nothing but soft, intricate golden leaves designed and embroidered across the expanse of the outer book and it feels heavy in her hands.

Maybe not the weight of the book itself, but the weight behind it.

She doesn’t know what compels her to leave the library with it wrapped in her arms, what forces her to sit on the couch with it out in the open on the coffee table in front of her.

Y/N feels sick at herself for even opening it, she knows old photos are precious past memories that she suspects someone like Harry would not particularly wish to share with his new wife.

It doesn’t stop her from looking, though – doesn’t stop her heart from aching and swelling at the sight of a three-year-old Harry wandering around butt-naked in a backyard with a cheesy grin on his lips and a green bucket hat on his head.

She keeps looking; flipping the pages with a gentle smile but it quickly fades with one of slight confusion.

The only people in the almost hundred photos are the same three: Harry, Anne, and a mysterious man. Y/N’s never seen him before but he looks familiar, she can’t help but see traces of Harry in him.

She supposes maybe it’s Harry’s uncle; maybe even a family friend and Y/N’s just thinking too deep into it. She needs to stop allowing her mind to think everything to be a fucking conspiracy.

She wants to appreciate the pure vulnerability she’s able to see in regards to Harry, even if it is just through photos that are almost twenty years old – older than her.

She doesn’t know whether she’ll get to see a side of him that isn’t stone cold and doesn’t absolutely petrify her.

Knowing some part of him used to be young and innocent offers a sense of relief, a reminder that he has some sanity about him; whether he wants to admit it or not.

She gets to the end of the photo album when she learns the strange man's name. On the back of a photo of the unfamiliar face and Harry digging dirt in the garden, dressed in overalls with a beer in the man’s hand and a sippy cup in Harry’s, there’s a little note written in what she supposes is Anne’s calligraphy.

Danny and Harry -- summer 2000 x

Y/N finds herself mumbling his name under her breath, brows furrowed as she scours her brain. She’s heard that name before, she’s sure of it.

She doesn’t have much time to continue her mindful search before the creaking of the living room floorboards quirk in her ears and Mike is slowly swaying into the room.

He’s dressed in a slick suit, something that Y/N has tried to tell him isn’t necessary and he has ignored, and his hands are stuffed in his pockets with a stoic expression on his regularly threatening face.

“Where’d you find that?” his low voice asks and even though it’s just about audible, it manages to sound through the room and ricochet against the walls and beams.

Y/N nearly jumps in her skin, despite already knowing of his presence.

She feels no threat from Mike--she knows he’s here to protect her and both he and Harry have made that very clear--but he’s still very intimidating in the way his posture holds him and his general blank expression.

It’s something about his eyes. Icy blue but she knows something dark burns behind them.

She clears her throat and quickly closes the book, tucking loose curls behind her ear. Y/N pushes the album to the centre of the coffee table and sits further back on the couch, as if to make a point--she’s just not sure what point she’s trying to make or prove.

She clears her throat.

“Uh, I found it in the library,” she explains lamely and Mike notices she can’t make eye contact with him.

He also knows she isn’t lying.

Over the week he’s been guarding her, he’s learnt all her ticks and tells. Y/N isn’t a liar, she’s just constantly in fear and silently requires the reassurance that she hasn’t done anything to upset anyone.

Mike hums, nodding his head, knows she has more to say; he knows what photos are in that book.

“There’s uh, there’s a lot of pictures of Harry with his Mom and some man… Danny,” she says carefully, articulating her words in a way that isn’t going to seem out of place or something he’ll consider mentioning to Harry to have her scolded and punished.

“That’s for Harry to explain, if he ever wishes to,” he responds cooly, hands still shoved in his pockets but Y/N’s eyes are fixed on the book and she wonders if she has the balls to try and push further.

“It’s just… he looks like him, you know? Looks like he could be a relative,” she speaks freely, though her throat feels like it’s being constricted.

She tries to word it casually, like she’s making an innocent observation but they both know it’s more than that. Mike doesn’t say anything for a few moments, allowing her to understand that he isn’t about to say anything in regards to the photos.

“Are you missing yours?” He asks, her eyes meeting him with a frown and he shifts his weight from his feet, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest.

He clears his throat.

“Your family, I mean… are you missing them? I know it's a long way from sunny California,” he tries to lighten the mood for her sake; he doesn’t particularly want her to grow agitated with him for not telling her part of Harry's past.

Y/N purses her lips and maybe keeping quiet would’ve been a better idea but Mike tends to run his mouth before really thinking out situations that involve sad emotions.

“Not really. I feel safer here than I ever have back in Cali,” she admits through a pathetic laugh, like she’s trying to cover up the hurt.

“Your Dad?” he asks in a gentle tone, one she’s never heard before but she’s only known him a week.

She smiles weakly, nodding her head and Mike hums, adjusting his suit as he stands taller. Y/N’s gnawing at the inside of her cheek and picking at the skin around her nails -- nervous habits, Mike’s come to learn -- so he takes a step closer to her and clears his throat once more.

“Come on. Let me take you for lunch and show you around New York a little,” he offers, a hint of a smile on his lips but Y/N thinks she might be seeing things.

She isn’t used to this type of kindness from men of any ages. She frowns harder.

“Is that a good idea? Won’t Harry be mad?” she twists her hands nervously.

“Harry entrusted me with your life, Y/N. I’ll always keep you safe when he’s not here. And you’re not a prisoner anymore. He’ll never treat you like one.”

It’s a little after three when Harry feels a nervous twitch in his cheek and a tick in his fingers. He’s been gnawing on his bottom lip for the past twelve minutes and both Gemma and Anne have noticed.

His mother is concerned for him while his younger sister offers a look of disgust and is five seconds away from chastising her brother about how chapped his lips will be.

“As much as your sister and I want to stay, Harry… we can’t. You’re going to have to prove to Stefano that you can do this. We believe in you.”

Her gentle voice tries to coax him back into the room but the only thing that does is when the elevator sounds just seconds later and he stands from the couch.

Harry doesn’t fucking know what’s gotten him in such an aggy and irritated mood. His palms are sweaty and he doesn’t know why. He tells himself it’s because Y/N’s never been out before and that she and Mike have been gone for almost three hours.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust either of them; he trusts Mike with his life and he trusts that Y/N won’t try something stupid. Ideally, Harry would have liked to have been the one to take Y/N out first, maybe to prove something to the people watching his every move, he’s not sure.

Part of him feels a little guilty. He hasn’t seen her for more than five minutes since she moved to New York and he feels a little bit sick. He’s taken her from her family and everything she’s ever known.

As her husband, it should be his duty to care for her and ensure she doesn’t feel alone in this transitioning time. But Harry has to remind himself that this isn’t any regular marriage and there are no loving feelings shared between the two beneath their label.

But that doesn’t make it easier for Harry to try and understand why he feels the way he does about the matter.

When the elevator doors slide open, she’s got a shy smile on her lips and her shoulders are drooped in a relaxed state. The sight is a jolt of relief to Harry.

Wife or not, he never wants a woman to feel unsafe or intimidated in his presence or his men’s. He takes a brief moment to quickly get a good look at her.

She seems a lot lighter in the way she carries herself since she arrived at her new home. In a pretty beige pinafore with a ribbed white turtleneck underneath, she looks pretty -- very pretty.

Her hair falls in loose curls that sit just past her shoulders and her plump lips are painted pink with a subtle gloss.

When her eyes flitter up from her feet, she finally notices him watching her, a warmth rising to her cheeks and she shuffles in the penthouse behind Mike.

Her eyes are too glued on Harry, worried she may have done something wrong, for her to notice the presence of Anne and Gemma.

It isn’t until Anne is cooing at her and pulling her into a motherly embrace that she breaks her nervous gaze on her husband and shakily returns the hug to her mother-in-law.

“Was worried we wouldn’t see you before we left, love. Mike took you out for lunch, Harry said,” she smiles warmly, holding the girl by her shoulders and Y/N nods, lips pursed inwardly.

“Before you left? Where are you going?” she asks, ignoring the latter part of her question but she doesn’t mean to… she wonders if Harry will scold her for it when they leave.

Anne lets out a soft huff.

“Back to England, love. Now you’re married, Harry’s got his trial period as Capo to prove himself in the event Stefano is no longer able to reign as Capo,” she explains briefly, hands waving a seemingly dismissive manner, like she doesn’t much care for the topic.

But Y/N sees the glimmer of fear in her eyes.

She nods her head and smiles softly at the youngest Delluci who’s already gleaming up at her. Y/N doesn’t know what it is, but knowing Gemma appears to like her makes her feel a little more at ease.

“Will we be seeing you soon?” Y/N queries shyly, wondering if Anne can sense her need of having them around.

She does, and she reaches for the young girl's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“I hope so, darling.”

She zones out as Harry kisses their cheeks goodbye and sees them to the elevator, she’s too busy twiddling her thumbs and preparing herself for the numbing loneliness she'll be forced to face again tonight.

“Mike, you’re off for the night,” Harry’s low voice squeaks in her ears and Y/N’s head perks up, brows furrowed with sweaty palms.

“Do you not have work?” she blurts out before she can even think about what she’s doing.

Her face pales, head lowering as her gaze fixes on the floor. If she spoke like that to Giovanni, he would’ve kicked her to the ground by now.

Harry hates the way she quickly reels into herself, a vile taste on his tongue at the thought of her thinking he’d ever lay a hand on her like that.

He shakes his head and lowers his voice to a softer tone, ignoring the squinted look Mike gives him.

“Not tonight, I figured we could spend some time together,” he starts, dipping his head slightly as Y/N slowly raises hers to look up at him through mascara-coated lashes.

Mike bites back a smirk. In all his life, he’s known Harry to only ever use that soft tone with the women of his family: his mother and sister. He leaves the couple without another word and when Harry hears the elevator doors close again, he continues.

“I feel bad for not spending any time with you and leaving you all alone since we got here.”

Y/N feels part of her heart swell at his confession and she feels her cheeks blush harder than before. She offers a shy chuckle and shrugs her shoulders.

“Not all alone, Mike’s kept me a little company,” she’s nervous and she wonders if this is actually his way of making sure he gets laid tonight.

She doesn’t want to sleep with him again, doesn't want to go through the pain of remembering it this time.

She can feel herself beginning to panic, the sweat in her palms increasing by the second. Maybe if she plays along it won’t hurt so much, maybe he won’t be so hard on her.

She doesn’t want to think of him as such a person to do such a thing, but he’s a Made Man and Y/N is his wife. Her permission doesn’t matter.

He seems to notice her apprehension and takes a tentative step closer, trying to sag his shoulders to make himself look smaller; less intimidating.

“I thought maybe we could cook together? Get to know each other a little more,” he suggests and with a brief second of her gnawing on her inner cheek, she agrees.

They settle for making pizza. Harry’s kneading the dough as she stirs the tomato puree in a small bowl. She’s cut the pepperoni and mushrooms, a little plate full of peppers and spices ready to be sprinkled on when the dough is thick enough.

Y/N takes her time to admire Harry.

He’s got his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie long forgotten on the couch and the first few buttons by his collar are undone, dark and sparse chest hair peeking through.

He looks good, she can’t lie about it. And there's something about seeing an easy smile on his lips that makes him seem all the more normal, she finds herself feeling comfortable in his presence, safe.

In the hour of prepping, they’ve learnt little bits of information about each other. Harry learnt that Y/N’s favourite colour is yellow because it brings her a sense of light. She told him that her favourite movie is Romeo and Juliet, “Cliche, I know,” and that ever since she was little, books have been her little escape from how bad her home life has always been.

He learnt about her relationship with her brother when she was growing up and how it all fell to shit when he was initiated, when he sided with their Father and left her alone.

It isn’t all one sided with learning new information. Y/N learnt about Harry’s ability to hold his breath for seven minutes, how he taught himself to play the guitar at a young age, and as much as he was tempted to tell her he once killed a man with his guitar string, he didn’t.

He lets her revel in the innocence he offers her in sheltered childhood memories. Like how he used to read Gemma bedtime stories and train with Mike and Jeff every evening.

It’s when he mentions how he once made homemade pizzas with Anne when he was younger and she thinks he’s opening up to her.

She doesn’t understand that he only tells her these things to make her feel a little more comfortable. She mistakes his consideration for trust.

“I uh, I found some old photos in the library this morning. A bunch of ones of you and your Mom,” she begins in a shaky tone and Harry hums, sprinkling the cheese over the tomato based path she created for him.

She dares to snatch a peek at his face, fearing the worst -- but he’s calm and concentrated as he evenly distributes slices of pepperoni in the cheese’s wake.

“And there was a man in them, too. You look kinda like him, you know,” she continues, fiddling with a couple of olives between her fingers and she’s too caught in the way they roll against her fingertips to notice his mood falter and body stiffen.

So she continues.

“Is he your uncle? I didn’t see him at uh, at the wedding,” she cranes her neck just enough to wince at his reaction and he’s sprinkling chopped onions and mushrooms with a little more force than he did with the cheese.

Y/N swallows.

“No. He was my father,” he tells her.

His voice is rough and short -- a quip, less than a casual reply. Y/N frowns at his bluntness and the new information, dropping the olives in the ceramic bowl and twisting to face him.

“What?” she asks, brows furrowed. “But I thought that—“

“That Stefano is my Father? No, my step-father. Why else do you think you and I are Styles-Delluci?”

His replies are short and blunt and he doesn’t miss the way she sinks into herself out of fear and embarrassment. Nothing more is said on the matter, Harry opting to change the subject and attempting to lighten the mood to the best of his ability, but Y/N doesn’t budge.

He’s come to learn that when she fears she’s upset someone or gotten herself in some kind of trouble, she tends to bottle herself up and doesn’t allow forgiveness upon her.

Or maybe it’s that she doesn’t believe the forgiveness is ever genuine and Harry starts to wonder if she’s ever even been forgiven before. The thought rattles something unsettling within the pit of Harry’s stomach.

They wait for the food to cook in silence and eat in silence, opposite ends of the dining table. Y/N keeps her gaze on her food while Harry keeps his gaze on her, but neither says a word.

Harry cleans the dishes while she showers and as they climb into bed together for the first time since she’s been there, their backs stay faced to the other as sleep consumes them.

omg please do let me know what you think so far of the series? the next part is out next week and it's another long one, too. feedback is massively appreciated!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines

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daaydreamy · 2 years

Text

update there’s nine harry’s now

#⋆˚୨ my silly little online diary ୧˚⋆#ten if we’re gonna add mafiarry

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cupidsdolll · 7 months

Text

It Could’ve Been You - coming soon

grumpy!Harry x sunshinelfem!reader. smut, angst, fluff

"Why do you break girls' hearts?" She asks, the anger long gone, replaced with sympathy and tiredness.

"Simple, so they don't break mine first."

"So dare I ask, did this ever stand a chance of being more than sex?" She can't help but ask, her eyes flitting away from his intense gaze as she chews on her bottom lip.

"Darling, I think we both know the answer to that. Never even crossed my mind. You were just a good fuck."

Rewrite The Stars - 5.7k. boyfriend!mafiarry x fem!reader. angst, fluff.

It seemed as if the sky screamed with Harry.

The rain was pouring down heavily, the clouds dark and the wind was unforgiving as it blew harshly against the trees and the ground below them. The lighting strikes were loud, bright flashes of light burst from the sky randomly and loud rumbles of thunder were deep in his ears. Mother Nature has to be upset as well, crying with and for Harry and his loss. He can’t believe it, the love of his life. Gone. Her breathing is shallow and her eyes are just barely opened, she doesn’t have much life left.

“You fucking promised! You can’t leave me! Don’t hurt me like this… please” Harry’s voice cracks as he sobs over the body in his arms.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #masterlist

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freedomfireflies · 2 months

Note

any chance we can get asher back for mine!harry blurb? i miss my pookie :(

Summary: The one where you're not feeling so hot and Harry and Asher just want to help.

Word Count: 1.1k

Content Warning: 18+, very brief smut, very brief daddy kink, lots of fluff, not suitable for Ramadan!

“That’s it…good. Take it…fucking take me, mama.”

With every thrust and drive of Harry's hips, you can’t help but whimper. Nails scratching down his broad back while his nose dances along your cheek. You feel whole. Connected. In tune to his pleasure as you tighten your legs around his hips and kiss him.

“So fucking wet, sugar,” he exhales. His thumb finds your clit and he rubs in fast, determined circles. “S’it feel good? My baby’s cunny just needed some attention, hm? Needed me to fill her up?”

You nod—about the only coherent response you can offer—and melt into the feel of his mouth moving to your chest. It feels good. This is what you needed. You’ve missed him. And you needed someone to scratch this itch and make things right again.

And then, a throat clears.

Not yours. Not Harry’s.

Asher’s.

He’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, watching. His kind eyes are now suspicious and deviant. And he’s not looking at Harry. He’s looking at you.

And you know why.

Harry doesn’t mind the audience. He continues, strong hands cemented to your hips as he tugs you up in order to get a better angle. “You all right, Ash?” he calls.

Asher raises his chin. “Tell him,” he says to you. Resolute. Unwavering in a way that suggests he won't be letting this go.

You hesitate, stomach dropping as the threat of punishment hangs heavy in the air.

Harry smirks. “Tell me what?”

You shake your head. “Nothing,” you whisper before shooting a pointed look toward the door. “Nothing.”

“Sweetheart,” Asher warns, crossing his arms before leaning against the frame. “It’ll be worse if I have to tell him.”

Now Harry seems to understand and begins to slow his thrusts, offering you a curious expression meant to calm you. “What’s wrong, mama?”

You chew on your lip. You don’t want to tell him. You want this and you attempt to clench around his cock in order to get him to continue.

He smiles.

“She had a fever this morning,” Asher finally says and you bite back a groan. “She’s been dizzy all day and nearly fainted earlier. I told her to stay in bed and rest. Not do anything too strenuous. But I have a feeling she didn’t mention that to you.”

Harry’s grin instantly fades into disappointment and you know, undoubtedly, that you’re in rather big trouble now.

The one thing they prioritize more than anything is your health and safety.

“Sugar,” Harry starts, and you feel your heart skip, “are you not feeling well?”

You squirm beneath him. “I’m…I’m fine. I’m okay to do this—”

“Were you sick this morning?”

“…I was just…I mean, maybe a little, but—”

“Did you know you were going against Asher’s request when you begged me to fuck you?” he says firmly, and your skin feels like it’s on fire. You hate upsetting him. “Were you purposefully disobeying him?”

Shit, shit, shit. “I…I wasn’t trying to, I just…I missed you.”

And it’s the truth. You have missed him. You weren’t trying to be defiant, but you love Harry and you wanted to feel him. And you figured an orgasm could be just what the doctor ordered.

His features soften now as he dips down to kiss your nose. “I know, mama. I’ve missed you, too. But you know better than to disobey, don’t you?”

Regretfully, you nod.

“Then, I’m gonna ask you a question and I expect the truth. Is that understood?”

Another nod.

“Are you unwell right now? Do you feel tired or feverish or even the slightest bit uncomfortable?”

You could lie. You could tell him that you’ve been fucked back to health. That you rested and now you’re replenished.

But he’d know. And you’d know. And Asher would know.

So, you thread your fingers through his curls and whisper, “I’m…a little tired. And sore."

His expression falls. He’s gutted to know you're in pain but proud of you for finally admitting it. “Good girl,” he says before he kisses your cheek and begins to pull out. “All right then. Are you gonna let us take care of you now? The right way?”

Almost begrudgingly, you nod once again and melt into the mattress as he and Asher discuss the best way to help.

They run you a bath and help carry you to the tub. Harry joins you in the warm water and pulls you between his legs so he can sweep a washcloth up and down your clammy skin. Helping you feel clean and calm.

And when you're through, Asher is there with a big, fluffy towel to wrap you up in. Drying you off gently before bringing you back to bed and kissing your temple sweetly while tucking you beneath the covers.

“Thank you,” you say faintly as he runs his thumb over your cheek. “Even though you’re a snitch.”

He laughs. “Mhm. And I’d do it again.”

With that, he leaves you and Harry alone for the evening, something Harry is more than all right with.

He crawls into bed beside you, quickly pulling you to his chest before taking your temperature and offering you medicine and water.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish,” you whisper as he’s turning out the light.

However, even in the dark, you can anticipate his frown. “Sugar…finishing is not the goal for me. You know that. I like to finish with you, but I don’t fuck you for that. I fuck you because I love you. I want to be close to you. I want to feel you and make you finish.”

You run your fingers down his chest and sigh. “I know, I just…I like when you do. I like that I can do that for you.”

You feel his lips brush across your forehead before he’s wrapping you between his arms. “I know, mama. I’ll make you a deal. Once you’re well again, I’ll fuck you as many times as you want. Make you cum over and over and over again. Until you’re all sensitive and overstimulated.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And you’ll take it, won’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.” He chuckles before there’s a long, silent lull. “I love you. You know that?”

Your heart just about explodes out of your chest. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Another kiss. Soft. Gentle. “Horny little thing. Even got Asher to tell on you.”

“I know,” you laugh. “I was kind of surprised. But to be fair, I didn’t really disobey him. I was on bed rest. We were doing missionary, and you were doing all the work. All I had to do was lay there.”

Harry laughs and the sound is beautiful. “And you’re sneaky, too, hm?”

“Hey, an orgasm a day keeps the doctor away.”

“All right, that’s enough out of you. Go to sleep, yeah?” He pinches your hip. “We’ll discuss this when you’re better. But something tells me Asher won’t be so willing to let you off the hook.”

You smile.

“Good.”

Okay fine I missed Asher, too 😭 HE IS CUTE WHEN HE WANTS TO BE!!

~ Mine Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @acesofspadess @stylesfever @caynonmoondreams @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart

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justlemmeadoreyou · 6 months

Text

Sorry I'm being annoying again 😭😭

These are based on these asks:

Thank you to all adorable and beautiful people for sending these in! Sorry I'm a bit lousy with writing, but I hope I don't disappoint! ❤️❤️

taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @avalentina

#poll #harry poll #my poll #my polls #polls on tumblr #tumblr polls #polls #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles writing

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jarofstyles · 2 years

Note

#8 “open your mouth for me, baby” 🫣 w/ domrry

DBJSDVSDBHS YESSS. MAFIARRY THIS TIME BABY

Check out our Patreon!

Cw: harry is in the mafia and mention of violence

——

“On your knees, just how you like, sir.”

“Yes, that’s what i like, my pet. Good job.” His soft praise sent a warm shock through her spine, perking up as she looking up at him from her position on the floor. Pleasing Harry was always something she loved doing, but especially when he was in these moods.

Work was hard, and she had been able to pick up on it immediately when he had come home. Washing the remnants of his dirty work off his hands, he had asked her to meet him in the bedroom. Times like this, Y/N was aware of just how much of a help she was to him. Being able to channel his aggression in a way that didn’t involve physical harm, it was something Y/N was honored to provide. The man who was such a gentle giant to her alone had his control in the bedroom and she was happy to let him do as he pleased.

His bruised knuckle ran over her untouched cheek. Warm and soft, he admired the contrast of them. His gritty, dirty, threatening aura to most turning to powerful and soft with her. Wanting to channel his needs into his very willing and very loving woman, it changed his life. No more using punching bags until they broke, no more physical fighting. Just the rough sex, the benefits bringing them even closer than either had imagined.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day, sir.” She whispered, nuzzling into his touch. “How can I make it better?” The softness of her gaze ease the tightness he felt in his chest. His girl had a compulsion to fix it and who was he to deprive her from that?

“I think there are a few ways you can help me, my love.” His voice was dark and sticky in her brain, every word slowly coating and sticking to her. “First, I want you to take me out. Can you do that for me?” His hand carded through her hair as it abandoned her cheek, keeping his grip gentle. he didn’t want to think about anything he did today. All he wanted to think about was the pretty mouth that had a hunger for him.

“Yes, sir.” Her breathy reply was immediately paired with action, hands fumbling with his belt and tugging it from the loops. Letting it fall to the floor without a second thought, her mouth was watering for him. For his pleasured groans and praises, the weight of it on her tongue. The button was popped open after a few tries with her shaky hands, the sound of the zipper filling her with excitement as she could finally pull the bottoms off of him.

Harry hissed at the cool air hitting his cock, not fully hard yet but enough that it shocked him a little. “Cold in here, isn’t it baby?” He muttered, eyes on her. “Why don’t you open your mouth for me, baby? Keep me nice and warm in your mouth. Make me feel better.”

There was no need for a verbal reply, though, considering as soon as she got the go ahead he was being taken by those soft hands he loved so much and her lips were wrapped around him. If she was being honest with herself, she felt a bit guilty about being excited considering this mainly happened when his days were rougher- but god, did it feel good. Letting the weight settle on his tongue, the lips curled around her teeth a bit to make sure there was no pain, slowly taking him further into his mouth.

Tension left his body as she did as she was told, the comfort of his girl’s hot tongue running over the underside of his cock and keeping him warm and wet making up for the shitty day. “That’s it, pretty thing. Always know what I need.” He groaned, pulling her head a bit and getting himself deeper in her throat. He knew what she could handle after all this time. The slight choking was met with a click of the tongue, letting her adjust.

“That’s a girl… work through it, know you can. Keep me nice and warm.” He let his head hang back as he felt her throat contract around him, thrusting lazily to get deeper as she drooled around him. He could feel it pooling, dripping down to his balls in the filthy feeling he loved so much. “Just keep that mouth open for me, and I’ll make it worth your while later.”

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cupid-styles · 2 months

Note

do you have any protectiverry Fics to recommend :) I love you work and I hope you are having a gorgeous day

love uuuu

bodyguardrry by @jawllines (there’s 5 parts, check her masterlist for the others but it’s titled under “Harry is Y/N’s new bodyguard…”)

another bodyguardrry fic by @moonchildstyles

you might find some here in this bodyguardrry list

or here if you like mafiarry

#bestie asks #fic rec

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 2 years

Text

Compromised - Part 12**

We're almost done!!!! This one is sweet and fluffy and there is a bit of smut. THE REUNION WE ALL WANTED TO HAPPEN!

WC: 6.1k

Fic Masterlist is Here

It had been several weeks since Harry and Y/N had been at his second home and in all honesty it had been a glorious and blissful experience. Y/N had feared that she would’ve grown bored of it by now, but she had never experienced something like this before. The things she felt for Harry were all new and the more time she spent with him the more they developed. She never thought she’d be the doting and sickly sweet girlfriend, but she fell into the role fairly easily, especially since Harry was still recovering from his injury. He was taking full advantage too, but Y/N didn’t mind.

“Hey baby.” Harry hummed as he wandered out to the garden where she was watering her plants. She had decided that she would try to plant some herbs a few weeks back and so far they looked like they’d survive.

“Hi.” She smiled as he stopped beside her.

“Everything’s looking good.” He complimented and she nodded.

“This is a first for me. Usually I kill things.” She informed and he chuckled, he wouldn’t be if he knew that she was being literal.

“Well, you’re doing amazing, baby.” He assured and she smiled over at him, “I was thinking about something.” He said and she glanced over.

“OK, what about?” She asked as she turned off the hose.

“Axel and Liam said that there’s been no suspicious activity around here since we arrived; they’ve kept an eye on the place remotely. I think it’s helped that they haven’t really been coming by. And well, presumably they still don’t know where I am.” Y/N nodded, “And honestly, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought and I think I feel OK with having my mum and sister over for dinner one of these days.” Y/N’s face morphed into a surprised expression.

“Really?” She asked and he smiled and nodded.

“I decided that now is probably the best time for this because, well, things are peaceful right now and I don’t know when that’ll happen again. I can’t hide forever and I just know that when I get back out there all the shit I’ve been hiding from will make itself known. I need to see them and make peace with how things have been while I have the chance. I want them to meet you. I want them to know that everything’s going to be OK. I need to make sure that they’re OK too.” He said and Y/N nodded in understanding. If she could check on her family she definitely would. “Would you be OK with that? With inviting them over?” He asked and she smiled.

“Yeah, of course. I would love to meet your family and I want you to see them while things are good.” She expressed and he just leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“Oh that’s just perfect!” He said excitedly and she smiled wide.

“When do you want them over?”

“Well, I think I’ll text my mum now from my private phone.” He said and she nodded, “See what day works for them. We still owe Mitch and Sarah a dinner too.” He reminded and she nodded as she recalled that bit.

“Right! OK, well you text your mum and I’ll go grocery shopping when she confirms. Just let me know what I should make for dinner.” She smiled and he nodded. He hugged Y/N as best as he could with his injured arm, but he was so happy she was willing to do this with him.

“Perfect! And ummm, when you come back inside can we watch a film while you redo my toe nails?” He asked more timidly and she smiled and nodded.

“Of course, baby. Just pick your color.” She assured and he grinned a bright and toothy grin before hurrying back inside.

Harry was a lot more nervous than he let on as he made his way back into the master bedroom and dug out his phone. He hadn’t used his usual phone in case it was being tracked somehow. After all, that was the phone his associates and others knew about. He had about forty missed calls from Sally on it the last time he turned it on to check and he powered it down immediately after seeing that. He knew that he had to go back to his true reality soon, so he needed to take advantage of the anonymity while he had it. He needed to make things right with his mother and Gemma. It was weighing on him because he knew that the moment he stepped back into his world it was very unlikely that he would survive a week out of it. That “gala” event was in about 8 weeks, he knew there would be hell to pay for disappearing the way he had. It had been nearly a month of him hiding out, but he needed to be fully recovered because there was no way he could defend himself in a world where someone was trying to kill him in his current condition. He needed to wait and hope that now, the people on his side were not so angry with him that death seemed to be the most adequate punishment. He hoped. But he was mentally preparing for that being the consequence of what he had done. He tried to push out all negativity as he started typing out the message to his mum.

Hi mum, I know that you might be upset at me given you haven’t responded to me the last few times, but I’m really close by for a bit of time and I would love to see you and Gems. I miss you. Please let me know if you would like to come by for dinner sometime this week. I really want to you to meet someone I’ve got with me. Please think about it, mum. Please.

I love you.

That’s what he sent and hoped that this message wouldn’t be ignored this time. It was of the utmost importance.

************

“Like it?” She asked quietly as she finished cleaning up the edge of his pinky toe with a cotton swab with acetone, just to get it all precise.

“I do. Do you?” He asked and she smiled up at him.

“Yeah, s’a pretty shade of yellow.” She confirmed with a smile as she closed the little bottle of nail varnish and set it down. He patted the spot on the couch beside him and she hurried on up and set a cushion from the couch on his lap before laying on it and getting comfortable. His fingers of his free hand wove through her hair and she hummed at the relaxing and comforting action. Her mom used to play with her hair as a young child to help lull her to sleep. “Did you already reach out to your mom?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah. She hasn’t answered yet.” He informed and she nodded in understanding.

“I’m sure she will, H.” She assured and he hummed in response. He didn’t want to get too hopeful. He stayed quiet and she spoke up again, “How’s your shoulder feeling today?” She changed the topic and he was more than grateful that she had.

“It’s not as bad. I think we could do some more exercises and stretches for it.” He said and she smiled. He had been very adamant about not having his muscles atrophied from lack of use. He was a fitness buff and he had been researching about mobilizing and strengthening his arm after the trauma it had suffered. It was healing up nicely and she was proud of how determined, but patient he was with the process of it.

“That’s good baby.” She hummed before turning onto her back to look up at him. He had some stubble growing in around his lips and while it looked a little messy, it was kind of hot.

“What?” He asked with a grin.

“Nothing. Just this like scruff you got going for you, it’s hot.” She smiled at him and he chuckled.

“Hot, huh?” He grinned and she nodded before biting her lip to stop herself from saying anything else. He was about to throw in a little tease to start something that he very much wanted to continue and then his phone dinged from under the decorative pillow beside him on the couch and he reached for it and pulled it out. Harry felt his whole world pause as he saw a notification banner from “Mum”.

“It’s her?” Y/N asked and he nodded, swallowing hard and then glancing down. She sat up from the laying position on his lap and sat beside him, waiting for him to open up the message. He was a bit frozen and she “tsk-ed” as she planting a reassuring kiss on his cheek, “It’s OK.” She said to him softly and he glanced to her. She had never seen so much fear in a person’s eyes. He looked so small and young and it was a new thing for her to experience him being so insecure.

“What if she says no, or what if she asks me to leave them alone altogether?” He expressed and she frowned.

“Based on what you’ve told me about them I doubt they’ll break your heart like that.” She tried to reassure and he suddenly felt nauseous at the notification from his mother.

“Can you look for me?” He asked and she nodded, her lip bitten nervously under her top row of teeth as he handed over the phone. She typed in his password and she went to his messages and took a deep breath before opening it up.

Which Dalmatian was your favorite from 101 Dalmatians?

Y/N read the question aloud with a confused tone and Harry frowned at the response. She was awaiting a response from him.

“I think she wants to make sure it’s me.” He said and Y/N nodded, that made sense, only something he’d know. “Fuck… what was his name? I don’t remember.” He groaned, starting to freak out a bit.

“We can google it, babe.” Y/N assured and he shook his head.

“I was obsessed, if I take too long she might think it’s not me or that it’s a trap or that something’s wrong.” He rushed out, his chest starting to heave with panic.

“OK, I get it. Describe it to me.”

“He was one of the puppies, he had the spot on his eye? Was it spot?” He asked and she shook her head.

“No his name was Patch. I am certain.” She said to him.

“Are you sure?” He asked worriedly and she nodded.

“I swear. Do you trust me?” She asked.

“With my life.” He whispered and she offered a soft smile before typing that in as the response and hitting send. Immediately a call started coming in from her and Y/N smiled as she handed the phone to Harry who looked down at it with a blank expression.

“Answer it.” She assured with a smile and he seemed to get back down to earth from whatever thoughts he had been pulled away into and dragged his finger across the screen, putting it on speaker.

“Hello?” He asked and then he just heard a sob break through the speaker.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s really you!” She heard his mother cry and he frowned.

“It’s me. Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He asked right away.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong, I just wasn’t sure it was you.” She explained sniffling, “I had just been getting texts from you for so long that I just thought maybe someone was keeping up an appearance to not get me suspicious that something had happened to you. I wasn’t sure what to think and I… I’m so sorry for ignoring you, my sweet boy.” She cried and Y/N glanced up to Harry as his own tears started to roll down his cheeks.

“Yeah, it’s me, mum. I swear it is.” He sniffled and she sighed in relief.

“You really want to see me?” She asked.

“Of course I do! Well you know that I don’t want to put you both in any kind of danger, but I’ve pulled back a bit and things are safe right now. I want to see you and Gems before they go back to the normal way.” He explained.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She sighed, “Of course we’ll see you. When’s a good time?” She asked and he looked to Y/N.

“Tomorrow?” She mouthed silently.

“Can you come over tomorrow for dinner? I’ll send you the address.” He asked.

“Yes, yes. What time?”

“We can do 7, so it gives Gem a bit of time to settle in after work.”

“I’m cooking for you.” She said right away.

“No mum, we’ll take care of you tomorrow night.” He said.

“We?” She asked, “You did mention there was someone you wanted me to meet, right?” She asked.

“Ummmm, yeah. S’my girlfriend.” He said and he heard Anne giggle excitedly.

“I’m so happy you’ve got someone with you. I can’t wait to meet them. And if you won’t let me make you a meal for tomorrow I’ll bring dessert, alright? At least that.” She insisted and he smiled.

“Yeah, alright then. If you insist.” He said and Anne chuckled, “Ummm, we should still keep the line clear as much as possible just in case, but I’ll send you the address and see you tomorrow?”

“We’ll be there, H.” She promised and Y/N smiled at the reassurance on Harry’s face.

“Perfect. I love you, mum. See you soon.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” She sniffled once more and then they hung up and Y/N just reached forward and helped wipe away some of his tears with her fingers as she smiled at him. She was happy that Harry would get to see his family. She wished that she had the same opportunity, but while it was his, she wanted to ensure that everything went according to plan.

“I can’t believe they’ll actually be here with me.” He said softly and she smiled.

“I’m really happy they will be, H. Can’t wait to meet them.”

“They’re gonna love you. I just know it.” He hummed, “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Of course. I always will, baby.” She hummed before cuddling into his chest.

***********

The prospect of seeing his mother had Harry absolutely on edge. The entire day he had been completely unsettled and running about doing a bunch of stuff that Y/N insisted she would get to before they arrived. He still couldn’t fully use his arm and overexerting it could cause more damage if he wasn’t careful - which was what she kept chasing him around the house to remind him about. She did give him things he could help out with while she cooked. He remembered that Gemma’s favorite meal as a kid was lasagna and so he asked Y/N to help make that up for dinner. And when they set the lasagna in the oven it was time to get ready for the dinner.

Thankfully, Harry was at a point where he could shower himself, finally, he felt that he had recouped some of his dignity back. Even more so when he felt Y/N’s arms wrap around his torso and for her front to press to his back. They still hadn’t had sex yet. He wasn’t even sure how, but it was hard for him, not having full mobility. They had gotten close and done other things, but when it’d start heading in that direction he would always deflect. His excuse was that he didn’t want to give her a bad experience because he wasn’t at his best yet. She would assure him that it didn’t matter and that she knew he was still recovering, but Harry had a fragile ego and if he had to wait to fuck her how he knew he could, then he would. He was still getting her off and she him as well, but just not the sex part. And it was hard when she’d do things like this.

“Baby…” he sighed and she smiled and pressed a kiss to his back as he felt his cock starting to grow heavier and harder.

“Yes?” She asked innocently as her hands trailed down his abs.

“You’re being a tease.” He warned as he suddenly turned to her and she smiled up at him.

“It’s not teasing if I intend on following through with it.” She said softly and he smiled at her, “I know you’re a little nervous, maybe I can help take the edge off.” She hummed as her index finger traced the shape of his abs down to his navel and then lower. He moaned as she reached down and wrapped her fist around his tip, giving it a gentle squeeze before stroking down his shaft.

“Yeah, baby that’s it.” He panted as he slumped himself against the wall and she looked up at him with hungry eyes as she picked up her pace. His eyes traveled down to watch her fist stroking at him and he groaned before tossing his head back again, his fists bunched up at his sides as he started being built up closer and closer to the edge. His chest was growing red and his body hot, his breathing was getting shallow from the steam in there as she kept pumping his length in her fist. She pressed closer to him, tiptoeing to kiss at his jaw and neck, careful not to leave any marks until she migrated lower, sucking roughly at his chest to leave a little bruise blossoming on his right pec before sucking his nipple into her mouth.

“Shit.” He panted as his hands grabbed her hips. His stomach and chest felt like they were on fire from the lack of deep breaths he was taking as his pleasure started to build. The way her thumb rubbed against his tip and her wrist flicked and twisted to add a new sensation had his toes curling and his legs feeling feeble.

“Feels good?” She asked glancing up at him and he nodded furiously, “Good, baby. Getting close for me, huh?” He nodded again, moaning as her grip tightened just a bit, “Good boy, want you to come for me. Want everything you’ve got, baby.” She encouraged and he swallowed hard.

“I need t’sit.” He gritted out and she guided him over to the little ledge in the shower and she knelt before him as she continued stroking. His legs were parted and she moaned at the sight of his muscular and inked up thighs. She couldn’t resist as she leaned down and sunk her teeth into the meaty flesh before sucking a patch of skin between her lips a bit roughly to leave a little mark there. Then she glanced up at him and sunk lower and his jaw tensed as he felt her tongue lap along his balls before she gently sucked one between her lips and his toes curled as she sucked with a bit more pressure, “Oh fuck yeah…” he slurred on a moan, “You’re gonna make me come, baby. Gonna make me come so hard!” He panted as he got closer and closer until his thighs were trembling and she replaced her fist with her mouth, sucking eagerly at his tip, her suction creating a delicious pressure that seemed to be pulling the cum out of him. “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” He warned and she sunk lower on him and his fingers tangled into her sopping mess of hair as he burst in her mouth. His vision was splotchy and the blood was roaring in his ears as he felt her swallowing down every bit of cum he spilled into her hot little mouth. She was gentle and cautious as she eased him through his orgasm. When she finally pulled him out of her mouth she rested her cheek against his thigh, looking up at him with a pleased smile.

“Feel better?” She asked and he nodded with a satisfied little smile on his face.

“Kiss me.” He requested and she pressed herself up on his thighs and planted her lips against his gently.

“C’mon, let's finish up this shower and then get ready.” She whispered and he hummed and held her close before they continued what they were to do before the dinner.

***********

Harry was a complete mess of nerves as the minutes before his mother and sister’s arrival diminished. He felt completely anxious and completely out of control as he just waited to hear a knock at the door or a ring of their doorbell. He was also fighting not to do much, he didn’t want to worry his mom and opted to not wear the sling he would usually have his arm in lately, he also just needed to be sure that he could properly hug her and Gemma when they arrived. Y/N was finishing up the set up of the small dining table located in their kitchen and Harry was just in there blabbing on and on about his worries for how wrong this night could go when suddenly a ring sounded through the home and he perked up.

“Shit, shit, they’re here!” He panicked as he looked to Y/N. She rushed over to him and grabbed his face gently in her hands and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, they’re here. And they’re here because they can’t wait to see you, baby. It’s a good thing, yeah?” She asked and he nodded, “Do you want to greet them on your own first?” She asked.

“I don’t want to be alone.” He said.

“OK, let’s go then.” She offered a small and reassuring smile. She turned to head out of the kitchen and right before she made it past the entryway he was tugging her back and crashing his lips onto hers. She let out a little surprised sound but easily fell into his kiss.

Harry’s heart was pounding with nerves, but his body felt warm and comforted with Y/N in his embrace. It’s like the world had completely halted and it was just them two for that moment in time. He absolutely loved her for how she had been there for him and helped him the last few weeks, and for being here with him as he made amends with arguably the most important people of his life on that night. The realization of what he felt for her hit him so suddenly that he parted from their kiss very suddenly and she smiled.

“C’mon. Let’s get the door.” She insisted as she tugged him along through the house and down the small hallway that led to the front door. She urged him onward with a reassuring nod and he approached the front door. Harry’s mouth felt unnaturally dry, his heart was pounding, and his hands felt clammy as he turned the deadbolt and then moved down to the lock on the doorknob before exhaling quickly and opening up the door.

The moment Harry saw his mother and sister actually standing on the other side of the door his heart became completely overwhelmed and he immediately grabbed the dish they had brought dessert in and set it down on the little bench they had by the door before he broke into a sob and the two women hurried inside before hugging him tight. She could hear them all cry as they huddled together, it had been years. There were sniffles and mutters about how much they had missed each other and how much they loved each other. How much older and grown-up Harry looked. It was beautiful to watch, but instead of just standing there idly, Y/N rushed off to grab a box of tissues for the three of them. This was their moment, she didn’t want to intrude or rush them as they finally got to see and hold each other after so long. It had only been a couple of minutes before Harry glanced over at Y/N from over his sister’s shoulder before pulling back.

“Ummm, mum, Gems,” he sniffled, “I also want to introduce you to my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said with a small smile and the two women turned towards her, both just as gorgeous as he was.

“Hi.” She barely squeaked out as she raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at them. She had never met any guy’s family in this capacity. It was nerve wracking. She was now feeling like her head would explode from the anxiety and thoughts forming in milliseconds. She felt worried that they wouldn’t think she was pretty enough or good enough for him. That they would see the bad things or tell him later on that he could do better. She was trying so hard not to show the shift in her mood when suddenly Anne had walked up to her and hugged her as well.

“Hello, darling. I’m Anne.” She hummed and YN hugged her back with a nervous smile on her face as she looked to Harry who chuckled before draping an arm over his sister’s shoulder, she was also smiling at Y/N, “It’s wonderful to meet you.” She assured as she squeezed a bit tighter and Y/N did the same before they pulled back.

“It’s great to meet you.” Y/N giggled as her nerves dissipated.

“And this is my sister, Gemma.” He said as he let her go and Gemma also went in for a hug from Y/N.

“t’s great to meet you as well.” She hummed as she pulled back from the hug. “We made lasagna.” She said to Gemma with a smile.

“Actually Y/N made lasagna, I taste tested.” Harry said and she looked over at him with a smile.

“He made the pasta.” She assured and the women smiled.

“We can head on back if you’re ready to eat?” Y/N asked looking to all of them. She felt awkward still and when they all nodded she led the way back to their kitchen.

“Everything’s so neat and homey.” Anne pointed out.

“You taught me well.” Harry hummed and Y/N smiled as she spared a glance back and saw him wrapped around his mom as they walked through the living room. It was sweet, the way he was so close to her.

As soon as they got into the kitchen Gemma handed over the dessert they had brought and let Y/N know it would need to keep warm in the oven. Anne immediately insisted on helping, but Y/N waved her and Gemma off, assuring them that she would handle everything and allow them catch up with Harry. She was assembling the food on the plates as she overheard them chatting about life, what had been going on, how they were doing. Watching him get to do this with his family made her feel a bit jealous that she wouldn’t get to do it with her own, but it was beautiful to see. He looked so happy that was all that Y/N cared about. Everything was pleasant, the meal, the conversation, the way that Harry’s hand was just glued to hers as they all spoke made her feel that she was part of something more.

“So dessert?” Harry said during a break in conversation and Anne smiled.

“Made your favorite, bread and butter pudding.” She smiled and his eyes practically lit up when he heard that.

“Baby, you’re going to die when you try this.” He turned to Y/N and she giggled in excitement.

“I can’t wait!” She chirped.

And well, Harry was right, it was absolutely delicious. Now that they had sufficiently caught up, the conversation topic shifted to Y/N. She was nervous all over again and she had a death grip on Harry’s hand as the questions flew towards her. She was getting by and then there is came up.

“You’re clearly American, did you make the move out here alone? Or did you come with your family?” Gemma asked with a curious smile and Y/N’s smile faltered and she squeezed Harry’s hand once again.

“Uh, let’s not talk about that.” Harry cut in and Y/N looked over to him with a sad smile.

“It’s alright.” She said quietly and looked back to Gemma who was looking rather apologetic, “My family’s…gone.” She said simply, “They were wonderful people, though and I miss them everyday.” She elaborated.

“I’m so sorry.” She said and Y/N shook her head.

“Don’t be. It’s nice to talk about them.” She assured with a smile.

“How did you and Harry meet?” Anne changed the topic and Y/N smiled and looked to Harry.

“I went in for a tattoo consultation.” She smiled and Harry did too.

“That’s sweet.” Gemma cooed and Harry giggled almost like a giddy little school girl.

“Yeah…and then turns out we lived on the same street.” He said and then they started talking about the few run in’s they had.

“How did he ask you to be his girlfriend?” Anne asked and Y/N’s face wanted to run bright red as she recalled the moment this all occurred.

“Ummm, it was nothing fancy. He just asked.” She shrugged and Anne shook her head and Gemma started protesting this.

“Mum, taught you better!” Gemma teased.

“Hey, hey, hey, she said that she didn’t want any of the formality of it.” He defended himself and Y/N nodded to confirm.

It was getting later and no one wanted this reunion to end, so Y/N put on the kettle to make some tea and they all sat around talking and laughing some more. Anne, Harry, and Gemma took a lovely picture to commemorate their time together as well. At some point Gemma asked Harry if she could speak with him for a little one on one, so Y/N decided she would just get to cleaning up and Anne insisted on helping her out to give her kids some time alone. Y/N was washing the dishes while Anne dried them and they were dwelling in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Y/N spoke up.

“I’m really Happy that you and Gemma were able to come. Harry’s been a nervous wreck about it for a while and I’m glad he actually reached out, he’s been meaning to since we’ve been here.” She explained.

“Well, of course. Anything for my little boy. Well, he’s not so little anymore, but you know, he’s my baby.” She said and Y/N nodded with a smile.

“It’s also sweet how well he and Gemma get along. I didn’t have siblings so I never really got to have that bond with anyone, just a cousin who was almost like a sibling. But, I am a bit envious of how well they get on.” She shared with a smile and a quick glance over to Anne who was looking a bit nervous before speaking.

“Ummm, I know this might be a bit out of turn, but do you… know about why Harry can’t see us?” She asked carefully and Y/N nodded seriously, “I don’t know know… specifics of what it is that he’s involved with…” she sighed nervously and Y/N shut the water off.

“He’s a good man, Harry. And he’s so wonderful to so many people and-”

“I know.” Anne interrupted with a weary smile, “I know who I raised my son to be and I know that he never meant for any of this to happen. I just needed to know if the story you both told us about how you met is true? Or are you also involved in what he’s involved in?” She asked cautiously and Y/N’s eyes softened, “I just want to know that he’s safe with the person he’s chosen to be with.” She said gently, “I’m not judging your choices, it’s more for my peace of mind! I hope I’m not offending you or overstepping.” She said quickly and there was an edge of fear to her tone and worry in her eyes. Worry for her son and who it was that he was spending his days and nights with. Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked into Anne’s eyes with an easy smile.

“You’re not.” Y/N assured, “And you’re a wonderful mother for caring the way you do.” She encouraged her, “And I promise you that, that is actually how we met.” She confirmed, “Actually, I’d seen him tattooing at some expo in America before I met him. So I knew of him already and he’s so talented!” She shared with a smile, “Was trying for months just to get the consultation with him. Maybe like six months? He’s in high demand.” She elaborated, “And when I went into it, I mean, it kind of smacks you in the face how handsome he is,” Y/N smiled a bit timidly, “But he was really lovely. And quite honestly, I didn’t expect to care for him the way I do. He’s my first boyfriend, actually.” She disclosed and Anne smiled at her confession, “After I lost my family, I’ve always fended for myself, you know? I felt that I was my own problem, no one else’s, but Harry makes me feel like it’s OK to need somebody. He makes want to be better and he makes me feel valuable, safe, and cared for.” She told Anne, “I came to find out what he was involved in and well, the person I see and have grown to… love…” she paused with a crease in her eyebrows as the realization hit her right in that moment. She looked into Anne’s eyes with a sort of nervous look in her eyes. Anne’s own eyes then softened as she realized what was happening right before her eyes and she reached for Y/N’s hand and squeezed it a bit for some reassurance.

“I’m so happy he has you.” Anne said softly with a smile, “And I can tell that he feels the same way about you. Thank you.” She said and Y/N’s eyebrows creased and she shook her head.

“No, thank you.” She insisted, “Without you I wouldn’t have my best friend.”

“Oh, darling.” Anne shed a few tears before hugging Y/N. Y/N relished in her hug, there was absolutely nothing like a mother’s embrace and Y/N hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time she got to feel this.

“Y’know, there’s not a bad bone in his body. He doesn’t deserve to go through this all alone just because of a mistake he made when he was a kid.” Y/N said and Anne nodded, she couldn’t agree more, “I want to be there for him and make sure that he’s OK.”

“Thank you. And yes, take good care of my boy.” She whispered.

“I will. I promise.”

Their goodbye was just as teary as their greeting, if not more so. Harry didn’t know when he would see them again or if it was even possible, he obviously was hoping for the best, but he needed to be realistic. It was nearly 2am when they finally walked out the door with a final glance back before they drove off. They were so close, but it might as well have been a galaxy away from him. Y/N held him tight as he cried. They were sitting on the couch with her in his lap and his face buried into her neck, all hot and sticky from his tears, but she didn’t mind it one bit. Her heart hurt for him, seeing him this way made her feel sick to her stomach. She loved him and upon realizing that earlier, it made her understand a lot of the things that she was feeding into and feeling.

“You’re gonna see them again, baby. You will.” she hummed comfortingly as her fingers stroked through his hair lazily. He was hiccuping from how hard he was crying and she frowned as he struggled to catch a proper breath. She pressed him to sit upright and his swollen and glassy eyes met with hers, “H, baby, I know that this is probably the worst possible moment to… say this to you, but I…” she hesitated for just a second before deciding that she needed to tell him how she felt, if not she would surely implode, “I love you. So, so much and I will do everything I can to make sure th-” her words were cut off as his lips collided with hers. She felt his arms wrapped around her waist tightly and hold her closer as their lips melded and smacked together.

“Love you too.” He mumbled against her lips and into their kiss, “With every last bit of me. Love you so fucking much.” He confessed.

Part 13

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