#harry styles x ofc

harry-e-styles:

harry-e-styles:

harry-e-styles:

Only Angel  Harry Styles X Reader

Overview: A night you and Harry will never forget, which included a black satin slip and a hotel room in the city that never sleeps. 

Soft smut

A/N: LISTEN TO ONLY ANGEL WHILST READING THIS IT BRINGS THE VIBE PERFECTLY.  Thought I’d write something a little different today. It’s my first time I’ve written something like this but I like it! Hope you do too. Just gotta respect and love the definition of perfection: Mr Harry Styles. 

Like and comment! 

Word count: 2400

Harry was dripping in sweat. He could feel the back of his jacket stuck, and when he tried to shrug it off, he could feel the shirt peel away from his back. It was another outfit that was going to have to be dry cleaned, but he didn’t care. The crowd had been one of the best of the tour yet, and he could still feel the pure adrenaline scorching through every pore, making him skittish as him and the group of staff and friends followed him down the winding corridors of the arena. You had said that you were going to get him a little later at the hotel, so he wanted to get out now to avoid getting stuck in the New York traffic. 

“Brilliant as always,” Beth the stylist raised her water bottle to him as he entered his dressing room. "Thanks,“ he smiled. "I’m sorry, I’ve got another outfit to be cleaned if that’s okay." "You can wear the trousers and shirt back, there’s no point in those being rushed cleaned. Give me the jacket, I’ll get it sent out tomorrow with the others." "You’re amazing.” Harry tried to unbutton all the small rose buttons that kept the bottom of the metallic rose jacket tight to his torso. Luckily, the shirt underneath was white, so the sweat wasn’t that obvious, so he would be able to blend into the crowd a little more comfortable in case he had to make a quick getaway. Unluckily, the jacket was fiddly, and he was in such a rush, his fingers kept slipping, and he started to get agitated. "Come here,“ Beth waved him over and then bent down to help, her fingers a lot more nimble and calm. 

"You’re in a rush to get out of here.”

“Y/N is meeting me at the hotel, I don’t want to keep her waiting." 

"Ohh,” Beth smirked and raised an eyebrow “you’ve got plans or something?" Harry was trying not to get his hopes up too much, but yes. It was all he’d been thinking about during the last songs, and he had made sure to not prolong the encore any more than it needed to be. By the time he was singing Kiwi, he had felt his gut twisting so much in anticipation that he had struggled to get some of the lyrics out. 

"I just don’t want to get sidetracked by anybody from Sony,” he said instead. “I’m here tomorrow, they can catch me then. Oh,” he was running around the room now, free of his jacket, picking up his phone charger and the keys to the hotel, “could you tell Mitch and the guys that I won’t be able to go for drinks tonight? I did mention it earlier, but I would hate for them to think I’ve forgotten.”

 "It’s okay, they know that Y/N is here. Now go,“ she pushed him playfully out the door, "There’s a taxi waiting for you at exit five. I’ll see you back here at three tomorrow." Harry did a thumbs up 

"You’re an angel, Beth.”

 "Tell Y/N I said hi!“ Beth yelled down the corridor at Harry’s retreating back. Harry was already scrambling with everything in his hands while sending you a quick text: Will be with you soon. As promised, a black car with tinted windows was waiting at the exit. The driver was leaning against the bonnet, but as soon as he saw Harry, he jumped up and ran to open the door. 

"Where to Mr styles?” he barked with a strong New York accent.

 "The Conrad please Micheal,“ Harry smiled. The gates were already rattling open as Michel gunned out into the alleyways behind Madison Square Garden, able to change routes quick as a flash when a massive wave of people burst out from the arena. Even though the windows were opaque Harry shrank slightly in his seat, reading the text you had just sent with a small smirk. Don’t be too long….

"How long, Micheal?” Harry called.

“20 minutes Mr styles,” Micheal looked through the rearview window and spoke over the noise of the city around them. 

20 minutes. He could survive that.

 But as the minutes counted down, Harry’s leg jiggled more and more, and the veins on his arms started to protruded as he fought to keep his mind and body under control. It felt like hours when realistically it’d only been minutes when Micheal pulled into the side entrance of the Conrad hotel. Already there was another large crowd of fans and photographers at the front entrance which could prove a problem tomorrow morning, but it meant that tonight no one was going to be leaving his hotel room. Good. He didn’t need to leave with the plans he was envisioning. Wishing Micheal good night Harry darted out, smiled briefly and nodded at the usher waiting at the door, and hopped into the elevator waiting open for him. He clicked the floor number, the doors closed, then clicked it three more times as if to speed it up. There was a ding, and the doors opened, and Harry tore down the corridor to the large double doors at the end. He skidded to a holt and breathed for a second. She might be exhausted or asleep. Don’t just tear in there and assume that she’s going to want to jump on you. Even though a small selfish part of him protested, Harry beat that back. She’s here, that’s the best part out of all of this. 

When he opened the door, Harry did not notice the candles or the bath full of bubbles, or the glasses of champagne looking over the glittering view of central park. All he could see was you, and the black slip dress. 

His jaw dropped. He blinked, shook his head, then looked again. The slip was satin and rippled gorgeously over your body, so you looked like liquid midnight. Lace edged the skirt and the bust, drawing his eyes to your chest, dropping his phone on the floor in hysteria when he saw that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Hi honey,” you smiled sweetly, feigning innocence by crossing your arms behind your back. “Did you miss me?" 

Harry fell to his knees. Breathing hard, he started rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, then through his hair, as he tried to comprehend at what he was looking at. "Fuck me,” he whispered.

 "I heard the show went really well,“ you went on while surreptitiously pulling the back of the dress, so the hem slipped a little higher up your leg. "I could hear the screams from here at one point." Harry wasn’t listening. As you took a step forward, he seemed to almost whimper as he looked at you, his pupils so dark in the dim light that for a moment, he appeared to be controlled by the image of you. He started crawling towards you, slowly with anticipation, trying to find the right words to say. He had lost the feeling in his legs; they didn’t seem to need blood with the way his gut was roaring. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

"Aren’t you going to say you missed me?” You teased, pointing a foot out as if to stop him from coming closer, enjoying the way his eyes seemed to throb out of his head with excited shock. Slowly, Harry pushed your foot down, closing the gap, so he was knelt down on the floor in front of you. He reached out and placed both of his hands on the back of your calves. The skin was soft from being recently shaved, and it was heavenly to touch. Taking his time, he started to trail his fingers slowly up, fluttering at the back of your knees, before travelling up further to the soft mound of your thighs. He moved his thumbs to part your thighs slightly and then plant one light kiss on the inside of your leg, his eyes never leaving yours. This time you were the one to gasp, and seeing you from this angle was enough to undo Harry right there. Further and further his hands went up, trailing the thigh, then the curve of your bum where they rested for a moment. Instinctively you squeezed your legs together, and Harry enjoyed knowing he could still do that to you. He liked seeing you like this though; powerful, in charge, confident in who you were. That alone was driving him mad. He grazed your skin, going up and down with the tips of his fingers. His kisses peppered further up, touching each freckle, whilst you let one hand play with his hair, pulling it each time you felt his breath against your skin. He knew the rings he still wore were cold, so he took them off one by one, letting them drop onto the floor and roll away. You were still waiting for him to say something, but now you were also struggling with keeping your control, not wanting to break away from this moment just yet. Harry held onto the hem of the slip and used it to pull himself up, transferring his hands back to your bum and thighs when he stood over you. 

“I didn’t feel anything underneath the slip love,” he was finally able to croak out. You grinned and deliberately looked him up and down, letting your eyes devour the sight of the man you’d been thinking about ever since he left. 

"That’s because,” you leaned into his chest,  your boobs pressed next to his raised heart rate, “I’m not wearing anything." Harry let out a ragged sigh, letting his head fall back as he fought every urge not to rip the slip off you right then. Instead, he leaned closer, his mouth to your ear, and lowered his voice, so it seemed to rumble in your ear. "God, I’ve missed you." You went to move your hands up to straps to take off the slip, but Harry shook his head. 

"Not yet.” One arm moved around your waist, keeping you close to him as he gently swayed you back and forth. He was retaking control, and you let him. As he swayed, his hand drifted up and down, moving higher up your spine each time until he cupped your neck. His shirt was still sticking to his back, so when you mirrored his arms, the curve of his lower back into his shoulders was hard against your fingers. And then, not able to hold it any more, Harry gently brushed lips against yours. The overwhelming surge of impulse took over, and the kisses quickly changed from soft and sweet to hot and desperate. Harry felt as if he had woken up from an illness he didn’t know had drained him as he kissed your neck and shoulders, seeing faint marks from when he’d done this before. Gripping your hips, Harry suddenly lifted you up, smirking in delight when you sat comfortably around his torso, wrapping your legs without hesitation around him. He walked over to the bed and deliberately put a knee up so as he fell, he could cup you against his body. You moulded perfectly together, whispering to you all the while about how much he’d missed you. 

“You’re killing me,” he laughed against your cheek when you deliberately squirmed against him. “How do you do this to me every time?"  His hair was already wild from performing, so it was so curly it tangled in your fingers, and you hummed in delight at how messy he looked. Harry went to move down, but couldn’t help himself but kiss you on the lips again, the sound of breath coming from his nose loud in your ears. He laced his fingers between yours while biting the skin on your neck.  

 Harry started to move the slip up your body, running his hands over your thighs and then your hips, kissing the mole at the spot that rested just below your hip line. You readied to raise your body to his mouth, but he shook his head again, looking up at you in glee. The slip went higher, over your stomach now, and you both were surprised with the groan of delight that escaped Harry’s lips as he nipped the natural roll that rested just under your boobs. He chuckled slightly in surprise, widening his eyes for a moment, but didn’t stop as he massaged and gripped your sides, his mouth travelling up from your belly button to the valley of your chest. When he finally got the slip off your body, he sat up, his legs straddling you, so you were lying on the bed beneath him. He started to unbutton his shirt, letting it slowly fall open. He rolled his shoulders back, loosening his muscles and rolling his neck around, deliberately showing off the broadness of his shoulders as he shrugged the shirt to fall off behind him.  He drank you in, feeling your hips move, so you leaned up to look him in his crotch, making him gulp. There was nothing bashful about you, just dishevelled hair and skin unmarked like summer clouds. You had enjoyed seeing Harry’s tattoos being revealed with every open button, until all you could see with the familiar markings on his chest and bicep, highlighted by the golden glow of his skin from the American sun. He kept his necklace on though, enjoying when he leaned back over you the way your eyes closed momentarily as he let his dangle over your face. He bunched up the stain slip and held it over you, gripping his tight in one fist. "Never get rid of this,” he instructed. You smiled. You moved one hand to his waist, looking for his nod to continue. When he did, your hands worked quickly until it was just you two, united at last, and not even the noise of New York City could drown out the cries of his name. They echoed for hours later until Harry didn’t want to hear his name screamed any other way. 

U N P L A N N E D,the meeting vol. 2

Harry woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing around 6am. He reached for it quickly, pressed it to his ear as he squinted his eyes to adjust to the light that poked through his curtains.

His own house, which he decided was his second favorite place to wake up in Los Angeles now that he’d experienced rolling over to see Y/N with her eyelashes fluttering against a pillow. He was sure that would be burned into his memory for a long time to come. 

Now though, a week after he kissed her in the kitchen and again in the living room and again in her bedroom, his heartbeat rose when he answered the phone. 

“‘Lo?”

“Hi, sorry to wake you up–it’s Y/N.”

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine–how do you pick up so quickly, anyway?”

“You’re in my favorites,” he said, a hoarseness in his voice when he adjusted in bed. “Rings super loud even if my phone’s on do not disturb.”

Maybe that was a bold confession. Harry blamed the half-asleep state and tried to focus on the words she said.

“Listen, I accidentally told Glenne and Lexi and Heidi yesterday that it’s a girl.”

“Oh–okay.”

“You’re not mad?”

He cleared his throat. This didn’t exactly seem like something worthy of a 6am phone call, but the sound of her voice sent a warmth through Harry that erased any resentment. “No, I mean–I know we didn’t say when we were going to tell people, but, s’exciting. Were they excited?”

“Super,” he could hear the smile on her face, the comfort in her voice. “We looked at cute clothes.”

This woke him up. “You went clothes shopping without me?”

“No,” she laughed at his tone. “We just looked. But we can go together soon, if you want.”

He let his head fall back to the pillow. He wasn’t about to say it, but he would do anything she asked at this point. “Mmmm, I dowant.” 

“Okay, well, go back to sleep,” she said, voice quiet in the early morning hours.

“Okay,” he said. “You too.”

She hung up, Harry stared at the ceiling and made a mental note: wake up at Y/N’s more.

But week fifteen was quiet. Harry listened over and over to the songs that he’d already finished for the album, desperately trying to decide what was missing and what it needed. Y/N was busy at work and somehow, Harry had managed to convince her to have her mother down so their families could meet. 

Mimosas and brunch at Harry’s? Glenne was thrilled and even Jeff had relented, okay, you’re right, it’s a good idea.

So now Gemma sat on the couch and his mother paced nervously near the foyer. 

“I see their car!” Anne said, a bounce of excitement when she peered out the window. A cloudy summer day in Los Angeles, Gemma had complained all morning about how the weather herewas supposed to be betterthan London.

“Don’t freak them out, mum–”

“Please don’t be weird” Harry laughed, his own anxiety crested when he came to stand beside her. Sure as shit: Y/N, Lexi, and Y/N’s mother stepped out of the car, Gemma came to stand behind Anne and even Glenne seemed intrigued from the kitchen. 

Jeff, who already had a mimosa in hand, laughed at the excitement in the room, though Harry wondered if he was just putting on an act. 

“Alright,” Harry turned to see his family, a hand on the doorknob before he tugged it open. “Act normal. Cool, natural, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anne waved, a toothy grin when Harry finally let them in. 

Y/N was nervous, either Harry had gotten better at reading her or the anxiety was written on her face clear as day. Probably both, he decided, when he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. 

She swatted him away quickly and Lexi laughed. Y/N’s mother smiled at Harry and offered a hand.

“So nice to finally meet you,” Harry greeted, a rumble of nerves in his stomach when he wondered: should I have hugged her? 

“Thanks for having us,” Y/N’s mom replied, a serving dish in her hands. “I made these–they’re lemon!”

“I love a good lemon pastry!” he smiled at her, stepped aside and shot Y/N a wink when he revealed the crowd standing behind him. Anne and Gemma had taken a few steps back, almost like now they realized they actually didneed to play it cool. Harry saw his mom’s eyes sweep Y/N’s figure, now obviously pregnant.

“Y/N,” he motioned to his family. “This is my mum, Anne, and my sister, Gemma.”

“Hi–nice to finally meet you in person,” she smiled nervously.

Anne’s arms opened instinctually, a smile on her face when she pulled Y/N closer. “Lovely to meet you, we’re so glad you could all come.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Y/N’s mom smiled behind her, Lexi took the pastries into the kitchen, the moms hugged when Y/N moved on to Harry’s sister. 

Harry watched the exchange for a second, his sister opened her arms and Y/N joked about her nausea, it’s been easing up the last two weeks. 

“I’m definitely having sympathy nausea,” Lexi laughed, stepping aside before Harry pointed around at the entire group and did a rundown of names. He brought them all towards the kitchen, Glenne pointed out all the food she’d made and Jeff pointed out the things she’d gotten catered. 

A breakfast casserole, mini quiches, small bacon finger sandwiches. Harry slid the pastries right next to the sliced banana bread that Glenne promised she made from scratch.

“Most importantly,” Lexi picked up a bottle of champagne that Harry had opened before their arrival. He reached for orange juice in the fridge, turned around and passed it to Glenne who was waiting with an eager smile. 

When she poured a drink for Y/N’s mother, Harry could sense the tension had broken a bit. Maybe it was the way Y/N’s shoulders appeared to relax, or maybe it was simply that a glass of champagne with a splash of juice was a peace offering like no other. 

He looked over at her, the corner of his mouth pulled up without thought and hers did too. He was only tugged out of the moment when he heard his mother’s voice. 

“Wait–he’s not drinking?” Anne asked, happily accepting a glass passed down the line from Glenne.

“You say that like it’ll be impossible,” Harry shot her a look. Did she really have that little faith in her son?

“S’a big undertaking, no?” She let her eyebrows rise, shot a smile in his direction before looking to Y/N. “A bit harder for you, right?”

She let out a dramatic sigh, “I’ve never wanted a mimosa so bad.”

“We have mom-osas,” Glenne said with a playful grin, jiggling the container of juice around as if Y/N would fall for it.

“That sounds mediocre at best,” Y/N rolled her eyes, pulling a laugh from all of them–even Jeff. 

Glenne was more than happy to accept the compliments about her cooking, gushing on and on about how helpful Jeff had been to make sure she could bring everything here and still keep it warm. 

Harry wasn’t shy about reminding her that he’d been just as instrumental to their brunch debut: he had the oven preheated and serving platters ready. He supplied the champagne and paid for extra catering. 

Gemma was quick to nudge him: get over yourself! 

He sat next to Y/N at the dining table and let the encouragement from his family pull the excitement out of him: we’ve got another doctor’s appointment next week, we’ve got to start doing some shopping for clothes. We can’t wait to meet her.

The morning went well enough, funny stories were exchanged and there was already a lot of talk about baby showers and birth plans and Harry wished for a moment that he could have a second alone with her. 

He’d been reeling since he spent the night at her place–what did it mean, why did he like it so much? Was she just as confused or was she annoyed that they’d now crossed whatever invisible boundary had been drawn in the sand from the moment she showed up at his front door with the paperwork from Dr. Weston?

But now wasn’t the time or place to address it, so Harry ate a lemon pastry and told Y/N he’d call her that night, a farewell hug at the door. This time, Y/N didn’t swat him away when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

Four pairs of eyes on him when the door latched shut and he turned around. 

“…Yes?”

Gemma looked to Anne, Anne looked to Glenne, Glenne looked to Jeff.

“I think it was very successful,” Anne broke the silence first, a smile when Gemma nodded. 

“Most importantly she seems like she can put you in place if need be,” his sister teased. “And we all know the need will be.”

“She can definitely handle him,” Glenne agreed, heading back towards the kitchen to clean up. 

Anne disappeared upstairs to use the bathroom and change out of her Sunday best, Gemma rounded the island and sat at a stool. “What’s your take on all of this, Glenne?”

Harry let out a sigh–one he didn’t bother to hide from his sister and two close friends.

“I’ll ignore that,” Gemma shot him a glance.

Glenne wiped the counter down with a sponge when she nodded confidently. “She’s a good human. Good job, good values–can be a tad bit anxious but–nothing tooneurotic.”

Harry smiled at the way Glenne spoke about her, a warmth in his chest when he found a seat beside his sister. 

“And you’re being nice to her?” Gemma narrowed her eyes.

“Nice to her? ‘Course I am–”

“You’re taking responsibility, figuring out how things will work?”

“What do you mean how things will work?” 

Jeff laughed at that, a shake of his head as if all of these meetings were a waste of time. 

“Custody, fiances, living arrangements,” Gemma shrugged her shoulders, Harry could always count on his older sister to be practical. 

“We’re figuring that out,” Jeff answered for him. 

“What he said,” Harry pointed a finger across the kitchen.

“Speaking of figuring things out,” Jeff’s eyebrows were raised now, he took a dish from Glenne and found a spot in Harry’s fridge. Once he turned around, he put his hands on the granite counter and took a deep breath. 

“Have you slept with her?”

“Well…yeah,” Harry made a funny face, Glenne and Gemma both let out a snort of a laugh when Jeff rolled his eyes. 

“I mean recently–post pregnancy?”

“No,” Harry said, eyes looking over to Glenne. What did she know? Was she in on the secret?

Her eyebrows lifted and she broke eye-contact, okay, Harry thought. That’s a yes. Gemma caught it too. 

“Why do you look guilty?” Gemma’s eyes went wide in excitement. 

“Yeah, Glenne,” he watched her with a threatening glare. “Why do you look guilty?”

Glenne rolled her eyes at Harry. “Don’t do this to me.”

“What do you mean?” Jeff was suspicious now, less excited than Gemma but just as confused and eager to know more.

“This isn’t fair,” Glenne looked between the three of them. No way was she about to rat out her friend and possibly create more drama than there already had been.

“Glenne…” Jeff eyed his girlfriend and hoped to God that she’d spill it. Getting information from Harry thus far had been like pulling teeth, Jeff decided, so if his girlfriend post-mimosa was the way he was going to get the actual truth, he’d take it.

“Harry…” Glenne tossed the metaphorical hot potato back to him. 

Gemma was amused by all of it, another sip from another mimosa and a smile when she waited for her brother to crack.

“We have not slept together.”

“But?” Gemma pressed.

“But,” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know if I would call it a totally platonic relationship at this point.”

“Oh Jesus, Harry–” Jeff couldn’t keep the anxiety in. A sigh escaped his lips and Harry’s brow furrowed low on his forward. 

“Oh Jesus, Harry, what? You really hate the idea of us together that much?”

“That’s not what he means,” Glenne tried to break the tension. “Right Jeff?”

Harry watched his friend expectantly. “Well what does he mean, then?”

“I’ve said it a thousand times, I just want you to be careful.”

“Harry–careful? With his heart?” Gemma fought the smile on her face, “the boy who made a cake for his year four crush and spelled out her name on top with little candies?”

Glenne thought this was cute, a clicking of her tongue when she pictured it that pulled an eye roll from Jeff.

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I like her–Y/N’s great–which is even more the reason why I don’t want you to fuck it up. Things could get messy and–”

“I don’t know why you’re saying all of this as if it’s news to me,” Harry shot him a look. Did Jeff really think he was that stupid?

No, he didn’t. Jeff didn’t think Harry was stupuid at all. But Jeff knew his friend well enough to know that he’d develop feelings for Y/N and things would be blissful until the going got rough. And Jeff, despite not being a father yet, knew that it would. 

“We care about you guys,” Glenne held up her hands in an attempt to slow the conversation. “We just want what’s best for both of you and the baby–okay? Let’s all remember there’s a baby involved in this.”

“Hard to forget,” Harry said with a quick sigh. 

__

Harry tried to act cool when he walked into Lexi’s birthday party, like his eyes didn’t scan the room immediately for her or like he hadn’t been sitting around checking his phone every half hour to see if she’d finally called. 

It’d been a whole week since their mums met, a whole week of Harry replaying the day and wondering what it would be like one day when one of them had a baby strapped to their chest. 

They’d texted a bit–the usual, how’s your day? How’s your week? What have you been up to? 

He knew she was busy at work with the impending departure of her boss, figured that maybe this was her pattern: get close, pull away. He wondered if they’d be doing that dance for the next 18 years. 

So Harry greeted Lexi with a kiss on both cheeks before he found a seat beside Y/N, a single kiss to her cheek and a hand on her thigh beneath the table that she didn’t shrink away from. 

“How’re you? How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” she said, a small smile in his direction before the waiter appeared behind them.

“Water’s fine,” Harry said. “M’all set.”

She smiled a little, rolled her eyes as if Harry was being dramatic or something. “Go ahead.”

“No,” he turned back to her, brows furrowed together. “If you’re not I’m not.”

“Ican’t,” she corrected, “there’s a difference. Water with lemon, please.”

The waiter disappeared and Jeff called Harry’s name–they laughed about an email miscommunication from the other week and when he turned back to see Y/N, Harry could tell something was up. “S’everything okay?”

“What? Yeah, what do you mean?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, rested an elbow on the table and let his mouth get close to her ear to talk over the noise of the restaurant. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, not since our mums met.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said casually. “Levi’s last day is this week, so there’s a lot happening.”

“Alright,” he relented, unsure how far to push it. See, that was the thing. Harry didn’t know Y/N that well–he didn’t know her well enough to sit there and take the stand that something was off and demand any type of answer. He threw in a final observation: “You just seem distant.”

She didn’t reply, patted his thigh under the table and thanked the waiter for their drinks once they were delivered. She yelled across the table to Glenne with a smile on her face and sang happy birthday when they brought Lexi a slice of cake. 

When they all made their way out to the parking lot, the night is just getting started, Lexi reminded, Harry walked beside Glenne towards his car. 

“I’m gonna head home, I think,” Y/N said from behind him, her pace slowing after she said something to Jeff.

Glenne pouted when she turned around to see her friend. “Aw, what? Why?”

“I don’t feel well,” Y/N admitted, a lurch in Harry’s stomach at her words. “Just a headache, so, I don’t want to be a party pooper.”

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, his hands in his pockets when he scanned her face. 

“No–I came with Lexi but I’ll just uber.”

“I can drive you,” he shrugged. “S’not a big deal.”

“Yeah, sweetie, let him take you,” Glenne nodded, folding her arms when she pouted again. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”

“It’s fine,” she brushed it off. “I think it was just the noise of the restaurant.”

Jeff nodded, kept quiet when Harry pulled out his own keys and nodded towards the Tesla Y/N had become quite familiar with.

“M’over there,” he said when he looked over to Jeff and Glenne. Any protests? No–Harry looked to Y/N.

“Okay, well,” she said. “I’ll talk to you both later.”

She gave them each a hug, fell into step beside Harry when Glenne called over her shoulder. “Let me know when you’re home!”

The parking lot was wet, asphalt still damp from a passing shower earlier in the night. When Y/N climbed into the passenger seat of Harry’s car, he turned to see her. “How bad is your headache?”

“I’ve had worse, but I’ll probably just go to sleep when I get home.”

He watched her again, pushed his lips out in thought but then started the car. “Why don’t you come to mine?”

“It’s late,” she said, a tiny shrug when he glanced over and smiled at her. Did he need to be more direct?

“I know–I mean, you can stay over if you want.”

Silence, he put the car in the reverse and turned left out of the lot. 

“I have extra rooms,” he added. 

“I’m alright, I can just go home.”

He looked at her quickly, a sideways glance out of guilt. He wasn’t trying to pressure her, didn’t want to make her uncomfortable and he certainly didn’t expectanything. But at this point Harry felt like it was almost pointless to pretend he didn’t like her, didn’t want to know what it was like to hear her whisper in his dark bedroom. He was also nervous that at any second something could go wrong and Harry just knewthat Y/N was downplaying whatever physical ailment had washed over her during dinner. 

“I know you can go home. I just–I don’t know. I’m not trying to be paranoid but if you’re not feeling well I’d rather have you be somewhere where I can–y’know–take care of you.”

She glanced over at him quickly. “Okay,” she said, leaning back in the seat and closing her eyes. “Fine.”

“Well I don’t want to force you,” he said, his voice smaller now, almost embarrassed. 

“You’re not,” she sighed, “I’m just trying to not puke in your Tesla.”

He laughed, “say the word and I’ll pull over.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, she cracked a smile at his joke and that gave Harry the confidence to lead her upstairs and into his bedroom, you can have a change of clothes and then we can watch a movie or something.

She stood in the center of the room when Harry disappeared into his closet. He knew the pair he’d give her: the gray ones with the knotted drawstring that he’d had for almost five years. Worn in and comfortable, the ones he always put on when he didn’t feel well.  

“Here,” he said, coming back out with the sweatpants in hand. “These might be big on you, but, they’re my favorite pair–” he looked up, saw her eyes welling with water and felt his stomach drop. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, laughed a little like she was being silly or stupid. “Nothing.”

“Y/N, what’s up?” He stepped closer to her now, dropped the pants on his bed and brought his hands to her shoulders. “You’re freaking me out.”

She rolled her eyes and used her thumbs to wipe away the moisture. “I’m just sad.”

“Sad?”

“Sad,” she nodded, a big sigh like the emotion had been trailing behind her all night.

“Why are you sad?”

“I’m tired and scared and confused.”

Harry watched her for a second, the words hung heavy in the room when he contemplated the right response. Comfort her? Hug her? Words of affirmation or reassurance? He didn’t really know what the rightthing to do was–so he settled for what felt most authentic. 

“I know,” he said, pulling her into him. “Me too.”

She stayed like that for a second, breathing against his chest with his arms wrapped around her. After a second she pulled away, looked up at him and wiped the water from the corners of her eyes again. Harry felt the urge to kiss her, tell her he’d been thinking a lot about painting the room down the hall a light shade of pink. 

Those weren’t the only dreams Harry had been having–which is why he was so caught off guard when she stepped forward and kissed him, their bodies melted together instinctually and, for a second, Harry was sure this was another daydream he’d conjured up while sitting in traffic on the 405. 

He guided her over to the bed, a smile on his face when she let him tug her dress over her head. But the anxiety echoed and it sounded a lot like Jeff–not exactly the sound Harry wanted playing in his head when he was potentially about to get it on. 

Was this wrong? Was this messy? Was this a mistake?

Maybe, he decided, but it didn’t stop him from moaning into her both when she wrapped her hand around his length. She was hesitant a little too, nervous like last time but somehow more familiar with his body and the way she left a trail of goosebumps on his skin.

When his fingers slipped between her legs she smiled into him, her back arching up to meet him. A laugh escaped her lips when she felt him grind up against her. He pulled back, looked down at her and smiled. “Do you want to?”

She nodded, the most unraveled and beautiful Harry had ever seen her. “Please,” she said through breathy pants when he teased at her entrance, “please, just do it.”

“Alright, Nike, relax,” he joked, another kiss when he leaned down to hover over her, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes. He pressed into her slightly and let out a low hum. “You feel so good,” he said, settling into a rhythm.

“And we don’t have to worry about a condom,” she wiggled your eyebrows at him, gaining a throaty laugh.

But then he froze, his eyes went a bit wide and his lips parted. “Is it–uh–are we allowed to do this?”

“What do you mean?” She asked, hips involuntarily rocking into him. Her eyes were closed, focused on the way their bodies felt together.

“We’re not going to like, hurt her, right?”

“No!” She said, her voice high and squeaky when she stifled a laugh.

“Well I don’t know,” Harry laughed, almost embarrassed once he started moving against Y/N’s center again. “I’ve never had sex with a pregnant woman before,” he tried to justify his concern. 

“Good to know,” she nodded a bit sarcastically, tugged on his arms to bring him back down to her. 

It went like that for a while, a playful air to a moment Harry was sure would be locked in his brain for the rest of eternity. He loved the way she said his name, breathless and desperate when she found the release of orgasm. He picked up the pace and finished shortly after, flopped onto the mattress beside her when she giggled. 

“What?”

“You called me Nike.”

“That was a good one,” he smirked. “M’quite clever.”

They both stared up at the fan on the ceiling, it circled and circled and Harry felt a little silly for being as nervous as he was. He’d done this countless times–but never before with the acquaintance turned friend turned maybe something more that was pregnant with his child.

“I don’t really remember the first time, but, I think that was better.”

“Me too,” he laughed. “And we know that we didn’t get you pregnant this time.”

She giggled and rolled over to see him, close enough for Harry to see the freckles on her nose when she thought aloud: “maybe we shouldn’t have done that.”

“We could probably say that about a lot of stuff right now.”

She nodded, let out a sigh and reached over, tracing her finger over the black ink on his chest. He watched her for a moment, noticed the way her lips curved up when she stole a glance at him.

“Were you avoiding me before tonight?”

Silence, a playful look of guilt on her face when her eyebrows arched. “Maybe.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t know what we’re doing.”

He smiled a bit. “Neither do I, trust me.”

“I don’t want to fuck this up.”

He nodded, was about to say that they wouldn’t–that they’d figure it out and everything would be fine, but something on the floor vibrated beneath her dress that now lay crumpled on the floor. She reached over and grabbed for it, slid a thumb across the screen. “S’Glenne,–hey, sorry I didn’t call, I’m home.”

Harry’s brows went north at her lie, she gave him the finger and mouthed be quiet. 

He watched as she nodded along, told Glenne she was feeling a little better already. Her expression changed after a second, though, frustration or anxiety or something crossed her face and Harry felt his forehead wrinkle with curiosity. 

“We just had coffee, Glenney, we were just talking about some logistics.”

Coffee? With who? 

“No, sweetie, everything’s fine.” 

Was Harry supposed to pretend he wasn’t listening? He was naked atop his own bed, letting his eyes trail around the room when he let out a whistle. 

“Alright,” Y/N said, stifling a laugh. “Well I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay? Tell Lexi I say happy birthday again!”

They said goodbye and she hung up, a bit of a bashful smile on her face when Harry let out a laugh and sat up. 

“She sounds trashed.”

“She’s getting there,” she said. 

“What was she asking about?”

She blew air between her lips, reached for the t-shirt he’d brought out for her and tugged it over her head. “I had coffee with Jeff the other day.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Why?”

“Just to talk,” she paused. “Glenne said there’s a photo, like, a paparazzi photo.”

“Fuck.” Jeff must have been annoyed.

“Yeah, but it’s fine.” 

A text dinged on her phone, she inspected the screen and then flipped it around to show Harry the photo in question. 

There was no way Y/N hadn’t known this was coming–and, Harry realized, there was no way this was her first time in a pap pic. She was friends with Lexi and frequented cast parties. She’d been to parties before with Jeff and Harry and their other friends who drew attention like that. 

“What’d you–uh–what’d you talk about?”

“Just logistics,” she gave him the same answer she’d given Glenne. Harry felt his lips curl up at the sides, bullshit.She brought her eyes up to his, a quick realization that while Glenne had been buzzed enough to buy it, Harry wasn’t. 

“Yeah?” He challenged, “what kind?”

She looked around the room, let her shoulders rise and fall with her breath. “Just–”

“Not letting things get messy?”

She was quiet for a minute, eyes on the hardwood floor until she chanced a look in his direction again.

“He’s giving you the same lectures?” He smirked, wiggled his eyebrows and then let himself flop back on the duvet, another laugh escaped his lips and floated up to the ceiling.

She stood with her hands on his hips, bit back the smile that mirrored his. “Guess they have a point.”

He nodded slowly, like he was thinking about it. Like he was ready to make his case or justify his own beliefs. Instead, he looked over at her. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

So she followed him downstairs and sat at the island, the same place where Glenne had poured mimosas for their mothers and Gemma put him on trial. Neither of them mentioned the sex or the sweatpants and neither of them dared to ask what any of it meant.

Harry flipped off the burner when the kettle came to a boil, poured its contents into a mug when the teabag rose up to the surface. “Have you thought at all about, uh, moving in?”

He pushed the cup across the granite, got honey from the cabinet overhead and refused couldn’t bring himself to look at her. 

“Sort of.”

Okay, so she wasn’t going to give in that easily. Harry cleared his throat, came around the island with his own mug and sat beside her. “The photo made me think about it, s’all. S’probably more private here.”

“Yeah.” She took a sip and was quiet for a second. “I don’t want to be in the way, you know? I think that might make things messier than…they already are.”

He waited, moved his head side to side in thought. Maybe it was selfish, his desire to have her close or be under the same roof. He didn’t want her to do anything that made her uncomfortable, and he certainly wasn’t trying to twist her arm. 

In Harry’s eyes, having her here made sense. If they were going to do this together, it’d be easier for her to sleep in a room down the hall than across town. It didn’t have to be now, and it didn’t have to be forever.

“Yeah–no, I just, think it’d be nice, you know. We can get ready more that way and once she’s here it’ll be easier. There’s enough room if your mum wants to come or if my mum wants to, y’know, to help out or something.”

“S’a good point,” she said, a small nod when he brought his eyes up to look at her.

“Yeah?”

A shrug of her shoulders, a playful smile before she rolled her eyes. “Yeah.”

“So–do you want to?”

“We can try it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Try it.”

But Harry knew that this was a slippery slope. He knew that sharing a kitchen and an address was a big step, one that came extremely fast for two people who had justchosen to sleep together for the first time without the aid of whatever cocktails they’d nursed that fateful night. He knew that his heart pounded every time she walked in the room, he felt his stomach flip when she called. 

But he didn’t know where this was headed or how to figure that out. So instead of getting nervous, he decided he’d get excited. There was plenty to do to prepare for a new chapter that neither of them had expected. And Harry knew that if he couldn’t control something, he had to make peace with it. Which is why he stared at the ceiling that night wishing sleep would come, a terrifying and thrilling thought circling his brain like the fan that spun overhead. 

Harry was falling. Hard.

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AN: WOW. I mean, we already knew Harry was falling hard, but at least now he knows it too. Sorry I’ve been a little MIA pals, some exciting personal news coming soon!