Ok Well Can I Suck Anthrorry Off While He’s Eating His Take Out?
Ok well can I suck anthrorry off while he’s eating his take out?
the feminine urge to deepthroat the hot liberal arts phd student with bad vision, a pretty smile, and a bad attitude </3
Y/N sitting beside him on the couch, watching him hunch over a bit as he shovels lo mein into his mouth like he hasn’t had a meal in days, using the end of the chopsticks to push his glasses up his nose as his sharp jaw flexes alluringly with his chewing. Despite the fact that Harry’s attention is glued to the ancient artifacts flickering across the screen of his TV, he can still feel her staring at the side of his head intently, and he lets it go on for a few more seconds before he finally intervenes. He glances over at her with his cheeks puffed out with food, his eyebrows raising curiously as he talks through a full mouth. “Can I help you?”
Y/N’s fingers halt their motions, freezing in place from where they had been playing with a loose thread hanging from the couch pillow cradled in her lap. Her response dismissive and airy. “No, I’m alright.”
Harry swallows the bite he’d been working on, blinking at her in an unconvinced fashion. “Then why are you glaring at me like I shat on your favorite copy of The Crucible?”
Y/N casts her eyes towards the ceiling in mild amusement at his vulgarity, returning her gaze onto him with a flat expression weighing down her features, refusing to let him see even a sliver of the genuine fondness she holds for his antics. “I wasn’t glaring, I was observing.”
“That was some intense observing, then.” He huffs, picking up a vegetable dumpling from the black plastic container snuggled inside the hole between his crossed legs, dipping it in its designated sauce before stretching his arm towards her across the sofa, wiggling the appetizer temptingly. “Dumpling?”
Y/N’s lips twitch with endearment as she glances between Harry and his offering. “I’m good, thank you. Already stuffed myself full of noodles.”
“Your loss.” He shrugs his brows indifferently, shoving the dumpling into his own mouth instead before reaching for his drink. “Golden Palace makes the best. The best Chinese food in general, actually. I’d slut myself out for Mei’s sesame chicken.”
“Isn’t Mei, like, seventy?”
Harry waves his bottle around apathetically. “What’s your point?”
The sincerity behind his demeanor is utterly comical, and Y/N has to purse her lips in order to avoid bursting into laughter. “You’d pimp yourself out to someone’s grandma for a serving of chicken?”
“Not just any serving of chicken,” Harry motions to her correctively with the neck of the glass cup, “Mei’s chicken. I’d whore myself out for the egg drop soup, too.” Harry’s brows suddenly cinch downwards as some unspoken inconvenience, and he sucks at his teeth in disappointment as he brings the beverage up to his mouth. “I should’ve ordered a bowl. Remind me to next time we visit.”
Next time we visit. Y/N doesn’t know why, but the way he’d so casually included her into his narrative— the way he’d nonchalantly suggested that he sees them getting takeout together again sometime soon, as if it should be obvious that they’ll be spending more time with one another for the foreseeable future— makes her stomach knot into a silk bow. She’d love nothing more than to make this type of quality time a regular occurrence; she could watch him moan over egg rolls forever, honestly, as long it’s him. And Chinese food escapades aside, she loves how much she’s learned about him in the past couple of weeks as they’ve gotten closer. She loves noticing new little details about him every time they hang out, because it feels weirdly intimate somehow. From an outside perspective, Harry appears so regal and blasé, and due to this, she initially figured that getting to know him would be a challenge; getting him to open up seemed like it would be as easy as prying an iron door open with her bare hands. But since they’ve met, she’s been proven wrong in the most pleasantly unexpected manner yet.
Y/N has slowly begun to take notice of the little things regarding Harry, which has helped her build a profile on him that she can reference whenever she’s alone and finds herself daydreaming about being in his company instead. One of the first things she’d learned about him is that he doesn’t take sugar in his coffee or tea; he only likes honey, for the added earthy notes it brings to the table, and because it’s how his mother used to make him warm drinks when he was young. His favorite flavor of ice cream is cookie dough, but he’s a strong advocate for mint chocolate chip, as well, despite the controversy that surrounds the flavor (“It doesn’t taste like toothpaste, people just have immature palates. Just admit you have the tastebuds of a two year old and move on.”) He abhors sweaty hands, and sleeping with socks on, and 0.9 mm mechanical lead pencils because, “the lead is way too thick and makes my handwriting look like utter shit. It’s especially hard to write lowercase Es because of that tiny space in the loop. I just use pens, and when I do use pencils, I stick strictly to 0.5 lead. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Harry color coordinates his closet and drawers, he arranges bookshelves in alphabetical order, and he has to take melatonin supplements periodically in order to regulate his sleep schedule, but he despises swallowing pills so he buys the gummies instead. But he doesn’t eat the green ones, he says they taste like sewage. He uses a tea tree oil and rosemary shampoo because he likes the way it makes his scalp tingle, and he types faster on his phone than on his laptop, so he does a lot of his coursework on his device and then edits it on his computer. He opens the balcony door when it rains because he likes smell of the wet trees, and he likes the rumble of thunderstorms as long as they’re distant and nothing extreme. He hates sourdough bread, he loves goat cheese and raspberry marmalade on his toast— not jam, marmalade, because apparently there’s a significant difference— and his favorite comfort food is pho from that restaurant that’s a five minute walk down the street. He can’t sit or sleep in a silent room; the suffocating deafness of it drives him insane, so he always turns his fan on from the second he gets home to the moment he leaves, that way there’s always some background static present to keep him from going mental.
He likes sleeping naked, though he always keeps a pair of clean boxers folded neatly on his nightstand beside his glasses so he can pull them on first thing in the morning. The smell of citrus Lysol makes him physically sick to the point of gagging, courtesy of when he drank some as a child after mistaking the liquid for lemonade. He’d been rushed to the emergency room and had his stomach pumped, which resulted in his distaste for hospitals, as well. His favorite flavor of soda is pineapple, but not the Fanta kind. He likes a brand of Mexican soda called Jarritos, and he’s been buying it from the same small Mexican market for the last four years, since it’s the only place relatively near him that carries it. He frequents the store so often for the same product that the owner— Eduardo— had eventually begun to set aside a box of that specific flavor just for him, for when he comes around to restock at the end of the week. Y/N had called it an unhealthy obsession, but he claims it’s just “customer loyalty.” Leave it to him to come up with the perfect philosophy to weasel himself out of trouble.
Harry’s voice breaks her from her thoughts. “You’re observing me again.”
Y/N blinks back into reality, mumbling a gentle apology under her breath as she admires the handsome— yet insufferably smug— grin painting itself across her companion’s face, highlighting his defined cheekbones and the dimples that wink into existence at the corners of his mouth. He looks so pretty, and she gets the sudden overwhelming urge to smother him in kisses until he can’t breathe, just to watch him giggle and scrunch his face at her doting. That wholesome instinct quickly molds into something much more crass, however, when he shifts his legs out from under him, slouching deeper into the couch as he spreads his thick thighs open suggestively. His lean tummy ripples with his actions, his strong chest heaving slightly as he maneuvers himself into a comfortable, exposed position that leaves his intentions open for interpretation.
Harry reaches forward and sets down his container of half-finished food, tossing both of his arms over the backrest of his sofa as his hips burrows into the cushions below, his biceps flexing as he folds one up to bring his drink to his mouth. He tucks the rim past his lips, tilting the bottle up and taking a slow swig of the pineapple beverage, his Adam’s Apple bobbing almost mockingly as the entrancing jade of his eyes twinkles at her sultrily over the end of the glass jug. He removes the spout with a wet pop, using the knuckle of his forefinger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, balancing the bifocals accordingly to get a good look at her through the lens. Y/N can tell her neediness has leaked into her appearance from the way he addresses her next, cracking a sly smirk as he locks gazes with her deeply for a prolonged second, proceeding to then glimpse down at where her thighs are clasped together tightly. His accent comes out low and throaty, just how he knows she likes it. “Wanna come sit on my lap? We can cuddle while we watch the rest of the documentary. Or we can make-out. Your choice.”
In that moment, Y/N decides that playing into his little charade isn’t within the scope of her patience right now. So instead, she decides to drop any act of civility she has left and voices her thoughts in a clear and unapologetic manner, with absolutely no remorse in sight. “What I want is to suck you off.”
Much to her surprise— and irritation— Harry doesn’t seem even the slightest bit fazed by her straightforward crudeness. In fact, the way in which he shrugs one shoulder easily and tilts his head to the side knowingly gives off the impression that he was expecting this type of reaction from her, and that only grates her even further. He knows how much she wants him, and yet he continues to toy with her like she’s a fucking doll set out for his entertainment, making her fold and bend to his will just so she can get a chance to experience whatever it is he promised, which will come after they’re acquainted enough to his liking. And as much as she hates this evil little waiting game he has going, she can’t deny how attractive she finds it, and it’s nearly enough to drive her mad.
Harry rumbles a quiet, concise hum in her direction, batting his lashes at her teasingly as he taps his pinky against the bottle in his large hand, pressing his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “I know you do, sweetheart. It’s kinda cute, honestly.”
Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the condescension behind his tone. “That I want to suck you off?”
“How desperate you are to do it.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah. You are.”
“Why?” He gives her an artificial pout, oversaturating his words with a sugary lilt just to taunt her emotions. “Because I won’t let you fuck me?”
“Because you’re making me wait as some twisted form of entertainment.”
“It’s a bit fun, though, innit?” Harry motions between them vaguely, his two front teeth digging into his lush bottom lip. “This little back and forth thing with have going? I push, you pull, you push, I pull, so on and so forth. I leave bruises all over your neck with my teeth, but stop when I reach the collar of your shirt. You leave hickeys down my stomach, but have to stop when you reach the waistband of my trousers. I grab your ass while we’re kissing, but refuse to spank it even when you beg me to. You grind against me and feel me get hard between your legs, but you know you won’t be able to do anything about it so you just have to accept whatever you get and handle the rest on your own. It’s good build-up, I think. It’s gonna make it worth the wait.”
Now Y/N is actually doing what he’d accused her of doing earlier: glaring at him. “Bold of you to assume I’ll stick around that long, considering how often you get on my nerves.”
Harry belts out a confident laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re not going anywhere, Austen. We both know that.”
She tilts her chin up in a spiteful challenge. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because if you were serious, you would have left ages ago.” Harry spreads his legs even further apart, drawing her attention to his groin, exactly as intended. Even in his briefs, she can’t tell he’s well-endowed, and she can’t stop the way her mouth begins to water on impulse. “S’kinda funny.”
“What is?”
“How you’re dick-whipped when you’ve yet to receive any.”
“Get fucked.”
“We’ll see.”
More Posts from Watermelon6ugar and Others
Where have h and bambi have had public sex and how do people tease them for it??
Well the worst time was in a back room at a photoshoot.
People heard them and Bambi had to go through the rest of the day trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Meanwhile, Harry, who had completely freaked out at first, got kind of smug and took the teasing as compliments.
“I will never visit you at work again,” she said on the drive home, arms crossed, her face screwed up.
“Why are you mad?” he teased. “You initiated it.”
“I’m mad at myself!”
“Aww, don’t be.” He poked her cheek and she pretended to bite his finger off, both of them laughing.
“How mad at yourself are you?” he asked, eyes on the road.
“Mad enough to say fuck it and suck you off while you’re driving.”
His eyes grew wide as he swallowed and she burst out laughing and pinched his cheek. “Just kidding. I don’t wanna kill us both.”
“Well,” he exhaled sharply, “I’m here for good time not a long time so...” As he pretended to unzip his trousers, she cracked up and swatted him on the arm.
“We’re shameless,” she said in between giggles.
“That’s why we cannot be with anyone else but each other,” he replied, an eyebrow arched. “Disappointed?”
“Very,” she said, but she was grinning.
my bday just got a whole lot better🥵🥵🥵🥵 HIS PANTS ARE UNDONE I CAN'T
You know you want it…
that makes four.
PART 8 - playlist
You fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist, tugged at an earring and smiled when a group of unfamiliar faces passed by. Jeff’s birthday parties were always well attended, but this year felt different since you knew you would--and planned to--bump into Harry.
You sipped on the drink in hand--vodka with soda and some kind of juice mixed in by the bartender who complimented your necklace.
Now, in the upstairs private dining room at a restaurant in Malibu, you ignored the face Tristan made when he took a sip of his own concoction. “This has too much grapefruit juice--do you want to switch?”
“Sure,” you pushed yours forward and swapped, already taking a sip when Tristan eyed you suspiciously.
“Wait, don’t you hate grapefruit?”
“I don’t care,” you shrugged, another scan of the crowd. He wasn’t here--at least, not yet. Tristan cleared his throat and let out a sigh.
“Okay, is this how the whole night is going to be? You just anxiously waiting to confess your love?”
“I’m not going to confess my love,” you clarified. “I’m just going to chat with him, see how he’s doing and if his house is finished. Take the temperature, y’know.”
Everyone had pretty much stayed out of it. Even Jeff, for the most part. Aside from showing up in your kitchen with a bag of donuts to bribe your kids, he’d left you alone and didn’t pester you over and over about making a big mistake.
You could admit it now, partially, when you were alone at night wondering if you’d grow old in this house and be single forever. You could admit it when you drove to the office and wished there was someone to come home to, someone who’d cook dinner, and listen to how annoying Tristan had been in the afternoon meetings or at events like this.
In the back of your head it was a truth you’d always known: life with Harry in it was better than any alternative.
But now you could admit it.
Which is why your heart dropped to the floor when you saw him hug someone on the other side of the room in greeting, Tristan pulled you by the shoulder behind a wall and you both peered around the corner, watched as he found Jeff and clapped him on the shoulder in celebration.
Was it childish? Was your hardcore crush that had somehow turned into more a complete waste of time? Maybe. You’d been telling yourself for so long that nothing could ever come of sex with someone eight years younger that you didn’t even give enough room for the possibility to breathe and potentially flourish.
“I’m going to need another drink before I have to face him.”
Tristan laughed. “So are we going to hide over here until that happens?”
“Maybe,” you shrugged. “But you can go get me another one to make me chill the fuck out.”
“Do you parent your children with that mouth?” he teased, taking your almost drink.
You nudged Tristan toward the bar and kept watch, Harry mingled with people you knew and some you didn’t--made his way around the room and up to the bar twice. You wondered if he’d meant all of the sweet things he said: I wanted to defend you, I’ve been waiting for this to happen.
If you’d known back then how you felt now--alone, sad, and filled with regret--you would have played your cards differently. But how were you supposed to know that something like this, something unexpected and strange would feel so right and could actually be what you needed?
After you finished the drink that Tristan returned with, you smoothed out the dress you were wearing and asked: “anything in my teeth?”
“No, but you look like an angry chihuahua.”
“Funny. Okay--if I look like I’m failing, come intervene and pretend to be super drunk or something.”
“I will not be doing that.”
“Okay,” you nodded, knowing it would be a tough sell. “Wish me luck.”
“Be brave!”
You elbowed into the crowd and snuck by groups of people, mumbled apologies as you tried to keep a new drink from spilling over the sides. He was with Jeff, a cocktail in hand when you came up behind him. Jeff’s eyes landed on you and then he tried to cut Harry off.
“Harry--”
“I just think it’s a bad idea, you know?”
Jeff’s eyes were wide when he greeted you. “Y/N--hi, we were just talking about the album.”
“Hi,” you bit out, forced a smile and tried to ignore the anxiety that buzzed down your spine.
They were talking about you, right? That level of intensity in Jeff’s eyes used to be reserved for nights when you’d snuck vodka from his parent’s liquor cabinet and now one of them came home earlier than expected.
You swallowed, wondered for a second if you should turn around and leave, grab Tristan and head for the door and hope you never had to see him again. “Sorry, I’m interrupting, I guess.”
“No,” Harry shook his head, stepped aside to let you move closer. “We were just talking business. How are you? I didn’t know if you’d come tonight.”
You didn’t know what to say to that, blinked a few times in confusion. You knew Jeff first--he was arguably your friend and Harry’s manager. If anyone was going to have claim over Jeff, it was you. You had thirty-two years of proof to back that up.
Jeff could sense this, he laughed a little and offered you a sarcastic grin. “Of course she’s here--she’s the sister I never wanted.”
You faked a laugh in his direction but then looked back at Harry, who’s eyes were glued to yours like his life depended on it.
Jeff nodded at his failed joke and the tension in the air, took a sip of his drink and looked between the two of you.
“Could Harry and I maybe talk for a minute, Jeff?”
He widened his eyes, wrinkled his forehead in surprise but then nodded quickly. “Yeah, sure--I’ll just--I’ll be over there.”
He hurried away, looked over his shoulder when Harry pursed his lips in a firm line and tried not to laugh at Jeff’s awkwardness.
“Hi,” you said quickly.
“Hi,” he smiled a bit. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“First time we’ve been at the same party, after all these years.”
He furrowed his brow. “M’starting to think Jeff was purposely keeping us apart.”
“That would explain a lot,” you laughed. “How are you?”
“Good,” he nodded. “How are you?”
“Also good,” you lied. “Yeah--busy, you know. The girls have a lot of extracurriculars but--”
It felt strange, interacting with him without the interruption of hands grabbing for snacks before dinner or pleading questions to stay up later and watch TV. He seemed to watch you closely, his lips set in a firm line when you trailed off.
“Right, is the body wash doing well?”
“Great, yeah, sales are through the roof,” you lifted your hand to gesture along with your words, then immediately felt stupid when he let out a tiny laugh that made your heart swell and break in the same moment. You had to spit it out, take a leap of faith and hope that you wouldn’t crash to the ground in failure.
“But, I actually just wanted to let you know--”
Of course--with your luck and your karma and apparently the entire universe now conspiring against you and Harry--someone put a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey!” he turned to greet them, clearly excited and surprised. “Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming!”
A man and woman, around your age, fancy clothes. They both hugged him, smiled apologetically at you when he angled his shoulders to face them and ask a thousand questions: when did you get to LA, how long will you be here, are you free for dinner this week?
You shifted on your feet uncomfortably and this prompted Harry to snap back to reality. “Sorry, Y/N, these are my friends Percy and Lillian,” he turned back to them. “You guys should go get drinks, the bartender is amazing.”
They nodded, moved in that direction when he called after them. “Get me another, just a sex on the beach.”
You pulled your head back and eyed him. “You drink sex on the beach?”
He laughed and looked back down at you, “I love peach schnapps--but, sorry, that was rude of me--you were going to say something?”
“Right,” you nodded, wind gone from your sails as you rerouted. “I just wanted to let you know that CeCe’s ballet recital is coming up. She’s been begging for you to come. I can text you the details?”
“Oh, right!” He smiled. “Yeah, text me, I’ll definitely be there. And I’m still good to do dinner with them this week if they’re up for it?”
“Oh, they’re up for it,” you admitted.
“And CeCe’s birthday is Thursday, right?”
“Right.”
“Great,” he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, the Brit in him slipping out before he stammered. “Sorry--I just--I should go catch up with them.”
He rushed off at that, smiling when he rejoined his friends by the bar, completely unaware of the awkward conversation he’d just narrowly missed. Tristan, whose lips were wrapped around a paper straw, sidled up beside you with a disapproving look on his face.
“I can’t hear anything over the noise in here but I’m going to guess you didn’t actually tell him how you feel.”
“No,” you shrugged, “of course not. He and Jeff were definitely talking about me when I walked up and so that was weird and Harry said something about it being a bad idea. And then I was going to but those people showed up and then I panic-invited him to CeCe’s ballet recital!”
“Where Luke is supposed to be?”
“Where Luke is supposed to be,” you confirmed. “Because I’m a fucking idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he frowned. “But that definitely just created more stress for you.”
“I know, it was dumb but I haven’t had more than one glass of wine in a few weeks and now I just think I should go home.”
“Boo,” he frowned. “Don’t be a party pooper. Have another drink and judge people with me.”
“I can’t even enjoy that right now because I’m so stupid.”
“Oh my god,” Tristan groaned. “Just go interrupt and tell him you love him or something!”
“You what?” Jeff was behind you when you turned around quickly.
“Nothing,” you shook your head, another sip to drown out his laughter on the other side of the room.
“You love him?”
“Why’d you ask what if you heard her?” Tristan made a face.
Jeff was serious, though, he wasn’t taking any bait. “Y/N, are you in love with him?”
You let out a groan and stomped a foot on the ground. Maybe it was the alcohol or the close proximity to someone you didn’t want to love, but you whined and answered him. “I don’t know, Jeffrey, okay? Now is not the time to discuss all of this.”
“You have to tell him that.”
“Yeah, well, why do you think I asked you to give us some time to talk?”
He pointed a finger to the floor. “You were going to tell him here?”
You rolled your eyes at all of his questions, and apparently, his shock at this discovery. “No, I don’t know. I was just going to see if he missed us or something, I don’t know!”
“Oh, he misses you,” Jeff nodded with confidence.
“Well whoever those people are showed up,” you gestured in their direction, threw your chin towards the girl who had better eyebrows than you and a smile as wide as the Mississippi. “Kind of interrupted.”
Jeff looked over and nodded, hands on his hips when he let out another breath, apparently still taking all of it in.
“Wait--speaking of interrupting, what was he saying when I came over? You did that whole wide-eyed shut the fuck up look you used to do when your mom would walk in the room.”
He sipped his drink casually when he recalled the moment. “It was nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“It was nothing, Y/N!”
“He said something was a bad idea.”
“Yeah, music shit.”
“Or Y/N shit?” Tristan challenged, a flick to Jeffrey’s shoulder with his free hand.
Jeff rolled his eyes at both of you. “How many drinks have you people had?”
“Enough to handle being in the same room with him right now.”
“Wow,” Jeff nodded, unimpressed. “You really do love him.”
You smacked him in the chest playfully and ignored his statement. “Are you going to tell me what you were saying about me?”
“Oh my god,” he complained, a grand gesture to let you know just how annoying you were. “He just said that it feels really weird to not live with you guys--I told him to tell you that and he said he thinks that’s a bad idea. But then you interrupted us, so that’s all the intel I have.”
“See?” You turned to Tristan, “I knew this was all stupid. I would have told him that I miss him and he would have shot me down.”
“You don’t know that,” Jeff held up his hand.
“Then why did he say it would be a bad idea?”
He shook his head in disbelief, made a face like you were stupid. “Maybe you don’t know this, Y/N, but he was really hurt when you asked him to move out. I’ve seen him break up with people before but--that rocked his world.”
Jeff referenced the event like it was a distant memory, like it was more than two weeks that now stood between you and the fateful launch party.
“Well he hurt me when he was late and didn’t tell me. I don’t want to live my life always wondering if he’ll show up--I already did that with Luke.”
“He’s not Luke,” Jeff said seriously, his demeanor suddenly shifting. “But if you’re going to treat him like he is, then nothing will ever work between you two.”
You shrunk back, even in a half-drunk state you could tell you’d struck a nerve in Jeff. Tristan sipped at his drink again and the silence between the three of you felt deafening.
“I just think you need to be honest with him. If you have feelings for him, tell him.”
“That was the plan tonight,” you admitted. “Maybe it will work some other day.”
“Well you need to figure something out soon. I’m sick of both of you being so scared to admit it to the other.”
“You’re filling in the blanks for him,” you reminded. “He said it was a bad idea.”
“Because he doesn’t want to get hurt again,” Jeff nodded.
“Well neither do I!”
He slung an arm around your shoulder and let out a deep breath, shedding the anger that had previously laced his voice. “I know. Shockingly enough you both want the same thing and are afraid of the same thing. But one of you has to be brave enough to take the risk.”
Tristan tossed back the rest of his drink at that, when both you and Jeff looked over to him with amusement, he shrugged. “I need to be drunker if we’re going to keep talking about all of this deep shit.”
**
CeCe turning seven made you feel ancient. So ancient, in fact, that you woke up Thursday morning with a splitting headache and a sore back. The alcohol from Jeff’s birthday probably took a few days to work itself out of your body, so you spent the first half of the week drinking your bodyweight in water and popping advil.
You weren't sure what you’d done to deserve it, but CeCe’s birthday request was simple: bring a friend to a trampoline park, with Harry, no mom.
At first you were sad. She didn’t want to spend time with you? Was Maeve’s pre-pubescent attitude rubbing off on her at the ripe age of seven?
But then, when she screamed at her sister the night before because she was wearing purple which meant Maeve couldn’t wear purple, you were glad to have the night to yourself and even more glad to dump their bickering on Harry. If he was so keen on being in their lives, he’d get all of it: the bickering, the yelling, the occasional shoving and hair pulling.
He was timid again when he arrived to pick them up, like he didn’t know how to interact with someone with whom he’d once shared a bed. Booster seats strapped in, snacks packed in a bag you prepared for him, money, water bottles, a change of socks in case someone’s got dirty. Pizza, CeCe had been begging, and soda, and then ice cream on the way home.
He nodded when you ran through the plan again, a small smirk on his face that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ve got it.”
“What are you smiling for?”
“Well, I mean, I know what I’m doing, Y/N--s’not the first time.”
“I know, but she’s seven now and her friend still needs to be home by 9pm and make sure Maeve doesn’t have too much soda or else she’ll be texting on her stupid phone all night.”
“I thought you were taking it from her at bedtime?”
You sighed, about to reply before he cut himself off and backtracked.
“Sorry--not my place, I don’t--anyway. Okay,” he looked down at the four girls. Maeve and Hayley, CeCe and Lily. How on earth he felt comfortable bringing the four of them in public was unknown--probably would be until the day you died--but you practiced going with the flow and let out another exhale.
You were trying to play it cool in more ways than one. Cool mom, not anxious about sending her children off with a famous celebrity who had somehow doubled as the world’s best babysitter or stand-in father-figure. And then casual, nonchalant previous hook-up who didn’t have any feelings about interfacing with Harry despite all that had occurred between you. You’d practiced in your mirror a few times before she showed up, but nothing prepared you for the climbing heartbeat when he rested a hand on CeCe’s head lovingly.
“Okay, Maeve, call me if you need anything. Hayley--your mom already texted me so I’ll keep her updated if you guys are going to be late, but text her when you get to the trampoline park, okay?”
Hayley nodded and Maeve rolled her eyes. CeCe brushed hair out of her face. “Are we good? I have jumping to do.”
Harry stifled a laugh and looked back to you. “We’re good. I’ll text you, enjoy your night.”
They piled in and buckled before you could even shut the garage door and head inside. You poured some wine and stared out into the backyard for a moment, wondering how on earth you’d settled in this house and into a life you almost didn’t recognize. Just a year ago you were finalizing your divorce, trying to figure out where you’d end up, watching your father decline in health as Maeve started wearing a training bra.
Now they were choosing Harry over you and suddenly your family felt more incomplete than it ever had, simply because he moved out.
But instead of sulking in regret, you put on a movie and ordered your own take out. At only 7pm you were already struggling to keep your eyes open, but a vibrating from the end table pulled you back to the movie you were already bored of.
You grabbed your phone and saw it was Harry--a knot in your stomach twisted and tugged when you answered.
“Hi,”
“Hi, uh, everything’s fine, we’re okay, but Maeve maybe broke her arm? I don’t know--Lily’s mom is on her way to come get her and Hayley, so that’s good, but Maeve needs to go to the emergency room.”
“What the fuck happened, Harry, how did she hurt herself?”
You were already up and on your feet, flip flops on and keys in hand when you tugged a sweatshirt over your head but kept spouting off questions.
“Were you not watching them? Is she okay? What hospital?”
“She landed on it wrong, it might just be a sprain or something! Just come and I’ll tell you everything, okay? She’s alright, the EMTs already wrapped her up--”
“She’s going in an ambulance?!”
You were in the car now, heart beating rapidly when your mouth felt dry and the ignition turned on.
“I’ll meet you at the Cedars Sinai in Tarzana, okay? Breathe, Y/N,”
You hung up without another word, blew a red light on the way there and wondered if this was your punishment for being the worst mom ever. Had all of your bad decisions somehow come back to bite you in the ass, or break Maeve’s arm?
Was letting Harry take them to a crowded trampoline park a mistake? Did he get recognized and mobbed and Maeve was a casualty? The questions flew through your head as you flew down the freeway, but you couldn’t shake one particular thought: thank God Harry was calm.
If you were going to be this elevated and out of breath before you even found them in the hospital, someone needed to keep his cool and be able to remember the doctor’s orders.
You pushed into the emergency department of the hospital he’d directed you to in under 13 minutes. A sticker on your chest and a nurse who brought you down a hall to a room with a curtain pulled shut. When she opened it, Maeve was in the bed and CeCe was sat in a chair beside her, Harry paced back and forth.
His eyes were wide when he turned to see you, but you didn’t acknowledge him.
“Sweetie? Hi, what happened, are you okay?”
Harry moved closer to you, but gave you enough space to inspect your daughter.
“I’m fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes when you pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m fine, too,” CeCe said in the corner with an attitude. “It’s still my birthday, you know.”
“How could we forget?” Harry offered her a smile.
“What happened?” You turned around and asked this with force.
“What do you mean what happened? I told you on the phone, she was jumping and messing around and she just landed on it wrong. It was an accident.”
“I’m fine, mom--it hurts but I’m fine, you don’t have to make this a big thing,” Maeve argued again from behind you. You held out a finger to silence her, this wasn’t the moment for her to get involved.
“Were you watching her closely enough, Harry? How many kids were around? You can’t just let her go off and mess around at a place like that, there are so many limbs flailing about, it’s dangerous.”
“There wasn’t anyone else in there,” Harry shrugged.
“What do you mean?”
He sighed, almost like he didn’t want to admit it. “I rented it out--I didn’t want anyone else there to, you know, steal the spotlight in case they knew who I was.”
You paused, looked from him to Maeve to CeCe and back. “You rented out a trampoline park for a 7-year-old’s birthday party?”
“Well, she’s not just any 7-year-old,” Harry smiled a little.
“No I’m not!” CeCe sang with excitement.
You gave him a smack across the arm. “Harry!”
“Oh my god, can you relax?” Maeve groaned.
You turned around to tell her to shut it--with a smile, of course--but the doctor pushed her way through a curtain and smiled.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Patel, you’re the mom?”
“Yes,” you nodded, crossed your arms and watched as she pushed x-rays up onto a screen.
“Good news is that it’s not broken all the way through, but there’s a fracture. We’ll do a cast for four weeks and do another x-ray then, see how it looks.”
“Okay,” you said, taking it all in. “But she’s alright? She’ll heal okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” Dr. Patel smiled. “The fracture is right here,” she pointed to the screen when she shoved the x-ray up in front of the light. “Four weeks and I’m sure she’ll heal perfectly. She needs to rest, for sure. Ice it tonight, there’s a pediatric orthopedist I recommend for the cast, we can get you an appointment tomorrow. Advil to handle pain over the next week or so but she should feel much better in a few days.”
“I told you,” Maeve snarled.
CeCe was happy sucking on a lollipop, a sticker on her shirt said Birthday Girl in sparkly pink lettering and you didn’t know if it was from the trampoline park or a friendly person in the Cedars Sinai emergency department.
Harry also had his arms crossed over his chest. Dr. Patel smiled and reported that a nurse would be in to give you discharge paperwork and verify an appointment time for Maeve’s cast. When you turned around to see her again, Maeve said: “don’t be mad at Harry.”
“Of course,” you rolled your eyes.
“Of course what?” Maeve asked.
“Of course you say don’t be mad at Harry--”
“Why would you be mad at me?”
“I don’t know! Cause she broke her arm on your watch,” you said, aware of how your emotions were getting the best of you. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do in front of the girls, maybe this was just another reason why you were winning the award for worst mom of the year.
“Fractured,” Maeve corrected.
“It’s not my fault,” Harry said quickly.
“Well you were the adult there,” you shot back.
“Don’t fight on my birthday!” CeCe whined.
“Typical parents,” Maeve rolled her eyes.
“He’s not your father,” you spit it out without thinking, words that caught everyone off guard and soon hovered in the air overhead when the room fell silent.
Maeve made a face, Harry let his gaze fall to the ground, his lips pursed into a thin line when he looked back up and changed the subject.
“CeCe, I heard there’s ice cream downstairs in the cafeteria if you want some?”
She perked right up at that, stood from her chair and then took his hand to head out of the room and down the hall.
Once it was just you and Maeve, she looked at you and waited.
“What?”
“You’re not going to yell at me?”
“I don’t exactly have it in me right now,” you admitted.
“I know Harry’s not my dad, just to be clear.”
You sighed, about to reply when she cut you off.
“But it feels like that sometimes. I mean, dad’s never around and Harry’s been around so much and you two--”
“I know,” you nodded. “I get it. Believe me.”
It was confusing, and if it was confusing for you, you could only imagine how confusing it was for them. Harry had become a fixture in their lives and someone they could count on, even more than they could count on their own father. And in Maeve’s defense, Harry did act like a parent in a lot of ways. Carpools, cooking, chasing them around the yard--you couldn’t be mad at Maeve for noticing the ways Harry undeniably fit into your family. She wasn’t the enemy, even when she called you on your feelings for him or pointed out the obvious chemistry. She was just observant and hopeful and innocently hoping that Harry would stick around forever. You could relate.
So it wasn’t worth getting worked up--the nurse came in and went over the aftercare plan and Maeve was in better spirits when Harry and CeCe returned with a dish of soft serve with her name on it. She complained in the parking lot that she wanted to ride in Harry’s car and when they both chose to ride with him, he shrugged innocently but promised he’d meet you at home.
He was only a few minutes behind you, let himself in the side door with both of them trailing him when you put the lid on your take out and slid it into the fridge.
“Sorry for interrupting your alone time,” he said with a nod at the half-empty bottle of wine on the island.
“Mommy, do I get another birthday since Maeve ruined mine?”
“I didn’t ruin yours,” Maeve gave her a light shove with her hip. “You got to stay up way past your bedtime, see? It’s already almost 11pm.”
“Which means both of you need to get up there and brush your teeth,” you informed them. “Say goodnight to Harry.”
CeCe filed over first, wrapped her arms around his legs and squeezed. “‘Night Harry thank you for ice cream and jumping!”
“You’re welcome, lovie,” he said, a hand on her head to smooth down her hair.
“Thanks for letting me ride in the ambulance by myself, mom never would have let me,” Maeve said when she wrapped her good arm around him.
“You went alone?” You stopped wiping the counter and looked up at them, somehow that detail got lost in the shuffle and just now clicked.
“And she’s fine and she’s home now, so,” Harry bit back a laugh when you exhaled with force.
“Okay, I can help you brush up, Maeve--I’ll be up in a second.”
CeCe took off at that, her feet disappeared up the stairs when Maeve looked at you, then Harry, then back at you. “I can do it, or CeCe can help. I’m fine, if you want to--I don’t know. Goodnight!”
Was she trying to give you two a minute alone? You made a face when she climbed the stairs but then found Harry smiling at you.
‘“What?”
“She’s trying to give us a minute alone,” he nodded, somehow aware of the thoughts in your head. You felt your cheeks flush at the immaturity of the moment, somehow your twelve-year-old was more in tune with the awkwardness in the kitchen than you were.
You stifled a laugh and stood frozen in place, unsure of what to say or how to behave. A part of you wanted to admit everything: the regret, the remorse, the way you wished he was down the hall or in the other room or simply a phone call away.
Blurting all of that out in your kitchen felt stupid and unpolished, so you put your hands on your hips and shifted your weight from one foot to another. Harry looked at the clock on the wall.
“Do you, uh, want a glass of wine?”
Maybe it was a stupid offer--it was late, the girls had to go to sleep--but something in you wanted to tug him close and ask him to never leave.
He hesitated for a moment, scanned your face, but then nodded. “Sure.”
He watched you reach for glasses and moved to sit at the island. When you corked the bottle and poured, he cleared his throat.
“I, uh, stand by the fact that Maeve getting hurt wasn’t my fault--” he smirked a little, “but, I’m sorry and I’m glad she’s okay.”
“Me too,” you agreed, pushing a glass towards him. “I guess that’s why they make you sign a waiver.”
“I know you think it’s dumb that I rented the whole place out, but I think it was a smart move, that way Maeve doesn’t have to be all embarrassed about being taken out on a stretcher.”
He ran a hand through his hair and laughed, the image of your embarrassed pre-teen brought a selfish smile to your face. He held his glass up and waited for you to clink yours against it. “To Maeve’s speedy healing and to CeCe’s seventh birthday.”
You sighed, “I can’t believe she’s seven. Makes me feel ancient.”
“You’re not ancient.”
“I have a twelve-year-old and a seven-year-old. I think that makes me ancient.”
He rolled his eyes at your theatrics. “How do you think people with twenty-year-olds feel?”
“Even worse,” you grimaced.
He smiled up at you when you set your glass back down. “Sorry we didn’t really get to talk at Jeff’s birthday--I know I was busy and distracted.”
“It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you knew about CeCe’s recital.”
“It’s on my calendar.” An awkward beat. “Is Luke going to be there?”
“Supposedly, he should be.”
Harry nodded, took a loud sip and looked around the room.
“How’s the house coming?”
“Good, yeah--been moving a lot of stuff in. Haven’t stayed over yet, but probably next week. It’ll be weird to live alone, though, haven’t done it in a while.”
“The girls really miss you,” you nodded, a playful eye roll to gauge his reaction. “I haven’t heard the end of it.”
“They do?”
Hope in his eyes when you nodded.
“Of course they do,” you laughed like it should have been obvious, like he should have known about their constant begging to see him or their recounting of happy memories. Remember when Harry said, remember when we, I miss being able to…
“I miss them, too.” Quiet for a moment when he looked at the wine in his glass. He looked up slowly, met your gaze before he shrugged like the words were casual or unimportant. “I miss you.”
When you didn’t say anything he stood up, a step closer to you while you tried to gather your thoughts, your words, offer up anything other than a blank stare brought on by butterflies and beating hearts.
“Mommy, are you coming?” CeCe was at the top of the stairs, her face barely visible around the corner and through her messy hair. “Maeve can’t brush my hair.”
“Coming,” you nodded, eyes on his for a second when he let out an exhale, you lowered your voice to speak only to him. “Sorry.”
He nodded, chest deflated when he took a step back. “S’probably for the best, right?”
Your lips parted to speak, but he turned on his feet and grabbed for his keys on the counter.
“CeCe--I’ll see you next week at the recital, okay? Keep practicing those pirouettes!” He made a funny face at her, a toothy grin when she giggled and then he waved over his shoulder. A half-empty wine glass on the counter was soon the other reminder of his presence when you climbed the stairs.
**
Getting CeCe dressed and ready to go was always a nightmare. Getting Maeve dressed in something that would compliment her cast, not clash with it, was a new dilemma that had you praying the next three weeks would fly by.
With the school year coming to a close and both of your children eager for summer to hit with full force, they were in better spirits despite the clothing dilemma that had plagued your house before CeCe’s recital.
She was three minutes late but still let you kiss her on the head when you pushed her off to join the other leotard-clad kiddos backstage. You found your seats with the Azoffs and Tristan, wondered if Luke or Harry would actually show up like they’d promised.
“‘Scuse me, sorry, m’just heading right there,” you heard his voice before you saw him, felt your shoulders rise up to your ears when you felt Tristan shift beside you to make room for him. He was cutting it close and by the look on his face when your eyes met his, he knew it.
“Hi,” he said it quietly, almost uncertain if you’d reply or give a greeting at all. You offered a tiny smile, Tristan patted him on the thigh once he took his seat.
“Harry!” Maeve grinned when she leaned down and saw him. “Mom, can me and Tristan switch so I can sit next to Harry?”
You were caught off guard by her question, fumbled with the program in hand when Tristan answered for you.
“Of course,” he said, stood and side stepped your daughter as she climbed over your lap.
Maeve threw her arms around Harry when she was close enough. “I have so much to catch you up on with Hayley!”
He smiled at that, hugged her back and then brushed hair out of her face when she sat. “We’re due for a guitar lesson, we can still work on strumming even with the cast on,” he told her. “Maybe we can catch up then.”
He glanced in your direction, another awkward smile when you felt the let down wash over you again.
You tried--you had made so much effort to shift your definition of family to let him fit in it. But sometimes people were too different and goals were too different and sometimes family doesn’t mean happily ever after, just like you always knew.
And you’d tried to tell him, piece together words to explain how you felt and what you wanted, but things always got in the way. Maybe the universe was trying to save you more embarrassment or maybe that was just an excuse you landed on to save yourself any more sleepless nights.
“He smells so good, by the way,” Tristan whispered into your ear, gaining an eye roll from you when the curtain opened. The audience erupted in applause, the sounds of happy parents filled the auditorium when a herd of first graders fell into place in pink tutus.
“There she is!” Maeve pointed up at the stage, a grin on her face so wide you could count her teeth.
CeCe’s face lit up when she found you all in the crowd, but when her eyes settled on Harry, she couldn’t hide her excitement. She waved and jumped up and down a little, gaining composure only when the music started to play.
She twirled around with grace, much more than you’d seen her carry in the backyard during squishball or the knock down, drag out fights she’d been known to have with her sister. She made it through the dance numbers with ease, and you didn’t even realize you were nervous for her until Tristan pried his leg free from your grasp: you’re hurting me.
There were only a few minutes of awkwardness when the show ended. Maeve told Harry about a science project and he shifted on his feet, stealing glances in your direction every few seconds. He excused himself to the restroom only seconds before CeCe burst through the door with a grin on her face, glitter on her cheeks and a ribbon in her hair.
“Did you see me mommy?!”
“I did see you!” You knelt down to squeeze her tight. “You were graceful and poised and you looked absolutely stunning! We got you flowers,” you motioned to the roses in Tristan’s arms, he smiled when he handed them over to her. They were almost as tall as she was but she wrapped both arms around the bouquet.
“You did really good,” Maeve admitted. “And the tutu looks great.”
She was distracted now, her eyes found Harry in the crowd as he walked back from the bathroom, both hands in his pockets until he heard her call his name. “Harry!”
“Hi lovie,” he knelt down and opened his arms. “You did so well! Did you have fun?”
“So much fun!” She giggled. “I didn’t know if you’d come!”
“Of course I came,” he said, his smile faltering a little when he looked up at you. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
You bit your tongue, now wasn’t the time to break your own rule: no shit talking in front of the girls. Sure, it was a rule you first adopted post-Luke, but now it almost felt like talking badly about Harry would hurt them more to hear than if you bad-mouthed their own father.
Maeve looked excitedly in your direction. “Mom, can Harry come to dinner tonight with everyone?”
He stood up now, hand on top of CeCe’s hair when he waited for an answer from you.
You were torn, bit at your lip for a second before you realized you needed to spit out some kind of answer. Your heart wanted him there and with you always, an addition to your family that you never knew you needed or wanted until he was literally under your roof. But your head was nervous, certain that the only thing that would come from this was more heartbreak and more confusion--and that was something that nobody needed.
“Yeah, sure--of course.”
CeCe clapped and jumped up and down again, looking up at her sister. “We can play squishball! I’ll race you to the car!”
They took off, climbed into the backseat and laughed the whole way home when you tried to prevent the headache that you could feel coming on. Jeff beat you back, Shelli and Irv too--soon the grill was on and Jeff wore an apron with handprints from three Christmases ago. Best Uncle Ever.
A few of CeCe’s friends and their parents tagged along, and soon you were handing out glasses of wine to other moms and wishing it didn’t hurt to see him help Maeve put her hair up in a pony-tail.
You kept yourself busy as host, do you need another drink, thanks for coming, we love the neighborhood. Anything to keep you from staring at him from across the backyard wondering what on earth he meant when he said s’probably for the best.
But he was calm, talked with Jeff and Irv and stood by the grill to help pass around plates when dinner was ready. He helped CeCe cut her burger in half and laughed when Maeve pulled out the waterproof wrap she’d convinced you to buy on Amazon so she could still go swimming.
He didn’t speak to you, though, quick glances your way when you’d reply to someone else--talking up and down and all around each other as if direct acknowledgement might cause the house to catch fire.
It was unavoidable, though, when he wandered towards the front of the house with his head buried in his phone, unaware that he’d caught you in a private moment.
The beep of Luke’s voicemail had your blood boiling, and you’d probably leave a string of threats had Harry not looked up and realized, finally, it was just the two of you in the driveway.
“Sorry,” he said awkwardly, eyes glancing around to confirm that no one else was nearby.
“No, it’s fine.” You pulled the phone away from your face and hung up. “I was just trying to get a hold of Luke. He said he’d come but then he didn’t show up. Now he’s not answering my calls, so--”
“Seems like nothing’s changed,” he nodded, disappointment in his voice when he shoved a hand in his pocket.
You let out an awkward laugh both at Harry’s sentiment and presence. “Yeah, well, I don’t know if we can ever really expect it to, right?”
“Right.”
The music from the backyard wafted over the roof, a car drove by outside the gate and he looked at you for a second before forcing out more small talk.
“How’s work been?”
“Good,” you nodded, an uncomfortable burn in your chest when you realized he now fell in the category of people who don’t know. He didn’t know how your meetings went, he didn’t know what you wanted for dinner. He didn’t know what Maeve was learning in math and he didn’t know about CeCe’s loose tooth.
“How’re things with you?”
“Good--my house is done, and I’m pretty much all moved in, so that’s nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of quiet, you know. No yelling down the hall or noise from the backyard.”
You forced a laugh, “must be nice.”
“It’s miserable, actually.”
You looked up at that, caught off guard by the emotion and seriousness in his voice. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” he laughed like you were crazy, kept himself in check but then shrugged. “I just--I don’t know. I miss being here with you three.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been kind of shitty here without you, too.”
He took a step closer to you at that, eyebrows knit together on his forehead like he’d been waiting to ask: “Why did you make me leave?”
You searched for an answer, let out a few squeaks when he seemed to hang on every word. “Because I didn’t know what was happening, everything moved so quickly between us and--”
“You were scared?”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”
He let out a sigh. “I know what happened between us was weird and unexpected, but that doesn’t make it wrong.”
“I know,” you nodded, honesty pouring out of you like floodgates had been opened. “I think I just pulled back when I panicked and--I don’t know. I tried to avoid what ended up happening.”
The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, another step closer. “Which was?”
“You leaving and all of us being heartbroken.”
He smirked, parted his lips to speak but you cut him off. “Instead of waiting for it to possibly happen, I became the queen of self-fulfilling prophecies.”
As if on cue, CeCe burst through the front door as she searched for you. When she looked up to see both of you in the driveway, she smiled. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” you rolled your eyes and laughed, surprised again by her wit and charm.
“CeCe,” Harry kneeled down, held out a hand to usher her over. “Do you remember what you told me about your art project when we went for pizza, that night a few weeks ago when you got a blue gumball from the machine near the bathroom?”
“Hmm,” she thought on it for a second. “The one with Mrs. Platsky?”
“Yeah--that one.”
“What about it?” She asked.
“Can you tell mommy what you drew?”
“Well, first she asked to draw what we thought of when we thought of ‘home’ a while ago, like a few weeks ago, I think. But then the next week she helped us make family trees and I drew mine with purple leaves,” she smiled excitedly and giggled when Harry nodded.
“Do you have that somewhere?”
“Yeah, in my backpack probably!”
“Do you want to get it so we can show mom?”
This made her nervous, she looked down to her feet, still in ballet slippers. “Well, yeah, but mom said we had to stop acting like we were a family.”
He looked down at her and then up at you, a small smile on his face when she shrugged one shoulder. “I was never acting, for the record.”
You held back a laugh, rolled your eyes at his smooth remark.
“Okay, I’ll go get it,” CeCe nodded, apparently that was enough for her. She ran off, back into the house to search for whatever it was, and for some reason, tears filled your eyes when he stood back up and looked at you.
“I don’t know what your definition of family is, but I can tell you mine.”
You tried to wipe at your eyes to hide any evidence of emotion, but he caught your hands and held them in his.
“I think of people I love, people I feel like I can be myself with. I think about this house, and your daughters, and I think about you. I think about the stupid fights that they have and I think about how happy I would be if I got to see them go off to prom or to college or on their first date--but that one makes me really nervous, actually.”
You laughed at that, the crack of a smile on your face brought one to his.
“I also didn’t expect this to turn out the way it did, but I don’t care if you’re thirty-two and I don’t care if you have children, because I love them, too. And I would rather be here in this house with a nontraditional definition of family than on my own in Malibu.”
You nodded, let him wrap his arms around you when you felt your forehead hit his shoulder. And because there was no privacy in this house or in this family, Maeve also burst through the door and smiled wide.
“Are you guys hugging?!”
“Does it look like we’re hugging?” Harry teased, opening an arm so Maeve could squeeze her way in.
She wrapped her arms around you, “I’ve been waiting for you guys to figure it out.”
“I found it, I found it!” CeCe came running out again, by now Jeff had wandered out too, Irv and Shelli looked on while Zoey came out to the driveway with Benny on her hip to see the commotion.
Harry knelt down again, helped CeCe unroll a piece of construction paper that had, as promised, purple leaves.
“Here’s you, mom, you’re up here near Grandpa,” she smiled. “Then daddy’s over here, and Harry’s here, then Maeve is next to me. Then Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv are here with Uncle Jeff--and then Benny’s here, I drew a little baby, see?”
“I do see,” you placed a hand on top of her head, smiled through tears as she pointed around to all of the people who loved you, all of the people who you could be yourself with, all of the people standing around watching as CeCe proudly displayed her family tree.
“Mom,” Maeve tugged at your arm again. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot with everyone here, but I think now would be a good time to tell Harry you like him.”
Shelli let out a laugh, wrapped an arm around Irv when Tristan shouted: “I agree, Y/N, I think now’s a good time.”
You looked around at all of them, half embarrassed, but settled and content and actually happy. Then your eyes settled on Harry, a coy smirk as he looked at you expectantly.
“Do I really have to say it?”
“Mmm,” he nodded, “I think you do.”
“Fine,” you sighed, motioning a hand around the driveway. “With everyone as my witness, I think you’re pretty cool.”
Maeve cleared her throat, “and you love him.”
You tried to fight a smile, looked at Harry when he grinned down at Maeve. “You can tell your mom I love her, too.”
CeCe had crawled her way up to Jeff’s shoulders now, a big smile on her face. “Oh just kiss already!” she giggled.
Harry’s eyes went wide in her direction, “how did you know I wanted to do that?”
“I’m just smart,” she shrugged. “I know lots of things.”
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AN: FRIENDS! Thank you for always joining me on the journey I create. All of the comments and messages and reblogs mean the world to me and I feel so lucky that people want to read the random shit I write and make up in my head. I've added a playlist for this chapter you can find here in case you want to really feel the feels during this one. Stay tuned for more stories!!!!
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cuore mio
from the series theadora.
for anon. smut. oral (f receiving), spitting, daddy kink, public sex.
"They're– Harry," she pushes his head away, and Harry lets out a groan, lips still puckered and wet from his kisses. "They're there..."
He looks up at the crowd in question.
Everyone's either drunk or too hot to care about anything around them. They're either singing, reading, or just taking a nap. He bites his bottom lip, looks around the small deck area they're on, and spots her beach towel she's been using as a pillow as she sunbathed before Harry interrupting her.
She watches him yank the towel away from where it's been sitting, and he opens it.
"What are you doing?" She laughs, eyes darting between the towel and Harry's boney fingers as he places it over their laps. "We look suspicious as fuck."
"They don't care," he murmurs into her neck, grabbing her by the side of it to move her closer to his face.
His kisses are slow, practiced, and wet. He smells of the beach, and the sunscreen she'd put on him a few hours ago.
And a bit of sweat.
She grabs him by the back of his neck, suddenly feeling too brave, and he opens his mouth, tongue finding hers as he sucks it into his own mouth. He smiles into the wet kiss, smiles at the noises she's making, knowing full-well he's got her under his spell.
Harry moves to her chin, then the side of her chin, her neck, then back up. He kisses her cheek with open-mouth kisses, and she giggles, hands grabbing him roughly, pressing him into her.
He lets out a growl when her hand touches his belly, then his cock over the shorts he's wearing. "You're so fuckin' hot," he whispers, forehead pressed against the crook of her neck. "So fuckin' hot."
"You are," she whispers, eyes trying to find his gaze.
He looks feral, eyes darting between each and every feature on her face.
He looks like a man on mission.
His hands say so.
"Yeah?" He bites the side of her neck. Hard. "I'm hot?"
She nods, watching his hand disappear under the towel.
She knows what's coming.
His warm hand cups her pussy over the tiny bikini bottoms she has on, and he lets out a moan, clearly not liking the fact that he has to work with yet another layer.
"Yes," she nods, voice quiet. "You're so hot, H."
"God– fuck," he bites into her shoulder, teeth almost breaking the skin. His fingers work the bikini bottoms and finally, they're pushed to the side, creating access for his long fingers. "You're so fuckin' wet."
She hides her face in the crook of his neck, smelling him, the smell of beach and sweat, and Harry retracts his fingers, quickly bringing them up to his mouth. He looks up at their friends, then back at her, and puts his fingers in his mouth, then moves his hand back under the towel.
She opens her legs wider, as discreetly as she can, and he breathes into her neck while his fingers rubs her pussy. He finds his rhythm quickly, the way she likes it, and she can't help but grab his other hand and place his fingers into her mouth. He rubs her pussy with his middle finger, bringing her slick up and down, and she bites his fingers in hopes of staying quiet.
She feels the coil in her stomach, so deep inside, and when he finds her hole, his palm pressing against her clit every time he pumps his fingers in and out, she feels like something gives up inside her. She feels hot, too hot, and she feels as though she's going to pee if Harry doesn't slow down.
She says as much while he licks the underside of her ear, lips then finding her earlobe and sucking on it as his fingers fucks into her harshly.
"Slower," she manages to whisper into his fingers. She licks them, kisses them, and Harry can't help but nod, hand going to wrap around her neck in a practiced manner.
His thumb strokes the side of her neck while he fucks into her with his long fingers, wet lips kissing and sucking on her warm, probably-sweaty skin.
"I love you," he chokes out, palm still creating friction against her clit. "I love you so much," he whispers, lips finding hers again.
She answers back, with her own kisses, wet mouths creating obscene sounds, and they're lucky Xander has decided to play music very loudly in the distance.
"Harry," a breath leaves her mouth, teeth clinking together, and he nods.
"Oh God," she fights his kisses, feeling too much all at once, and she leans her head back as Harry follows.
It's like he can't get enough of her mouth.
He abuses her lips with his, wet kisses all over her face, her mouth, and she feels his spit running down her chin, so she lets out another moan, hips already bucking up to meet the thrust of his fingers.
She feels it on the tips of her toes, her hands, her stomach.
Her cunt.
Everything feels on fire.
She's on fire.
"Gonna come for me?" Harry asks, voice raspy and low, and he licks the saliva that's running down her chin back into her mouth. He's clearly not looking for a response as he kisses her.
She can't help but nod weakly still, hand pressed against his. Then, she moves it to his upper body, fingers finding his pecks as she strokes the hair on his chest, then holds onto his necklace as he keeps fucking and rubbing her cunt.
"Come on," he nods, hair falling against his sweat-covered forehead. "Gonna come for me? For Daddy?"
"Oh fuck– fuckfuckfuck I'm coming, I'm coming!"
"Yeah, that's it," his abuse on her cunt becomes rough, almost more focused. Feral. He fucks another finger into her pussy as she squeezes around his fingers, and she moves her hips against his palm as she begins coming undone. "That's my girl. That's my good fuckin' girl," he bites her chin, making her lean into the touch. "Doesn't even care that we're in public..."
She feels like she's in a dream, Harry's fingers still deep inside her.
"No..." she moans– whispers more like.
"No," Harry agrees, forehead pressing in the crook of her neck. He licks there once, then leaves a kiss. "She doesn't care. You'll give it to me whenever and wherever we are, won't you, baby?"
"I love you," she nods, feeling cold all of a sudden, despite his fingers being inside her.
She feels him smile against her neck, and he looks up. "I love you. So much."
"Yeah?" She feels the need to ask. Again.
"I love you so, so fuckin' much," he kisses her cheek, his free hand wiping the saliva off her chin, and cheeks. "You're my heart."
"I am?"
"You are. You are everything."
I can’t believe I’m expected to do things.. I am full time busy being mentally ill
UNCASVILLE
Prompt (from kofi commission): “Maybe a little blurb of HSLOT and reader on a day off exploring the city.”
warning: smut
i write for FREE - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.
Just like this one-shot, you can commission me for any writing - available through my kofi page!
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-
Lucy really - like really couldn’t believe her own eyes right now.
She had saved up her money to take a train into Uncasville for Love on Tour which was happening tomorrow and she was spending the day exploring the city.
She really didn’t know how the odds were in her favor to this extent.
She had just gotten a seat at a tiny pizzeria in the city - stuffed in a back corner because she was by herself when the booth next to her is seated.
And it is none other than Harry fucking Styles and his stunning wife sitting across from him - the long seat was shared and she could have reached out and touched YN.
Harry had removed the hood of his hoodie then his beanie, then his sunglasses before handing them to his wife to put in her bag.
They were both dressed extremely casual.
Harry is a puffer jacket, black hoodie, and grey athletic shoes and YN in a familiar hoodie with the words DAMN. that she recognizes as her husband’s with cropped black leggings and nikes. **
Lucy is desperately trying not to stare as she sips on her water and she can’t believe her hands are shaking - they’re right there.
“Will you rub my thighs when we get home? They’re so fucking sore from that workout,” YN complains as soon as she plops down in the booth - her foot coming to rest on Harry’s thigh under the table.
His large hand, Lucy notices there are no rings right now except for his wedding band, squeezes her ankle and thumbs at her as he glances over the menu.
And when she hears his voice for the first time in person, holy shit, it’s deep and raspy but somehow smooth as silk with his accent.
“When have I ever said no to rubbin’ you down?” He smirks in a way that reminds Lucy of a schoolboy who just said a dirty joke.
“That one time in Glasglow,” She raises her eyebrow teasingly, making it seem like it was an inside joke which it definitely was because Harry blushes.
“I tried to get t’get it up, I was bloody smashed,” He defends, smirking micheviously when he pinches her and she jerks her foot off with a scowl, “Don’t forget I still helped you out plenty.”
“Mm, don’t recall,” YN obviously lies, biting back a smile as she scans over the menu, “What did I get here last time?”
“Y’got tha’ spinach pizza and we shared those garlic knots,” Harry hums, pouring them both water from the pitcher provided.
Jesus, he’s probably one of the most famous men on this earth with world tours and movies and companies but he still remembers what his wife ordered a dingy restaurant in Connecticut?
“Oh yeah, that was so good. Will you split those with me again?” She asks, putting back down the menu and sipping her water - well, chugging it really until it’s gone.
“Of course. I told you tha’ y’need to drink more water while we work out,” Harry frowns, pushing his glass towards her for her to sip on.
And it was just that, they were so domestic and so obviously in love - he had heart eyes for her and he was so attentive.
After they order, Harry’s phone buzzes and he huffs before he fishes it out to answer, “Wha’ Jeff?”
YN happens to glance over as she admires the art on the wall and Lucy quickly distracts herself with her book that she has open in front of her.
“No. I told y’that I’m not workin’ today. YN and I just want to-“
He’s cut off by whatever his manager is babbling about with a furrowed brow, his hand coming up to roll his bottom lip with frustration.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine, yeah,” Harry mutters hurriedly trying to get off the phone, “Alright, s’fine. As long as I’m home by five. Bye.”
YN looks back to her husband, “What did he just talk you into?”
“Meeting with Sony about the new album,” He sighs, running a hand through his curly locks, “Said I should be out by four.”
“Okay,” She agree calmly, nudging her foot against his with reassurance, “It’s fine.”
“I love you,” Harry replies with a small smile, secret and just for her, “Best partner I could ask for, so good t’me.”
Lucy resists the urge to pull out her phone to snap a picture or record their conversation - she was better than those intrusive fans.
They deserved privacy from the world like everyone else, sure she was eavesdropping but she promises herself that she won’t share this experience with anyone.
When their food comes, they both chow down on the pizza and garlic bread - talking animatedly throughout their meal.
She learns that Sarah and Mitch have had their baby on tour the whole time and Harry loves playing with him.
That Anne was coming to all the Los Angeles shows and staying at their house with them - planning a surprise party for her belated birthday.
That YN was flying out later in the month to support Gemma at a clothing campaign she’s doing with a British brand.
Then Harry shoves the last piece towards her, groaning, “Eat tha’, m’so full.”
For how lean and in shape Harry is, Lucy was surprised by how much he could eat and was quite impressed - boys and their metabolisms.
“I can’t, I’m stuffed,” She shakes her head, pushing it back towards him with a heavy exhale as she pats her stomach.
“M’gonna stuff you,” Harry mutters with that same wolfish expression before he stacks their plates and finishes his water.
“Don’t make promises you won’t keep,” YN purses her lips, reaching in her bag for his beanie and sunglasses.
“Oh, I’ll keep it, darlin’,” Harry gruffs with a low, bravado and a dark look at her even when she rolls her eyes.
And the Harry is handing the waitress his black American Express before signing the bill with a large tip.
A fan approaches with her cell phone out and in the couples face, “Excuse me? Can we take a picture? I’m going to the concert tomorrow!”
Lucy can automatically see them both tense up, opposite from how relaxed they were a moment beforehand.
Harry plasters on a smile but he kindly shakes his head and says, “Not today, sorry.”
The girl visible gets upset, frowning as she remarks that she’s his biggest fan and that she’s spent so much money on his merch.
“Okay, just one,” Harry replies tersely, he seemingly agrees because it’s easier than engaging in a fight with the ‘fan’.
Then the girl scampers of with a prize picture on her phone, already sharing it to social media most likely, with not care that she disrespected his boundaries.
“You’re okay,” YN murmurs as they gather their things, she steps over to him and tugs him into a hug which he welcomes fully, “Tonight, just me and you at the apartment - movies and snacks. Just us.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait. I need tha’. Just me n’ you,” Harry agrees a bit happier and he tilts his wife’s jaw up for a kiss before squeezing her one more time.
Lucy knows and has seen pap/fan pictures and videos of them being affectionate- remembers how bitter fan girls always say their relationship is exaggerated or even fake.
Well, there is absolutely no way they could fake the love that they have for each other, it was obvious to Lucy how in love they were.
She watches as they leaves, doesn’t miss how Harry lands a smack on her bum before intertwining their hands.
Lucy sticks to her words, never tells anyone but her mom about what she witnessed in that little pizzeria in Uncasville .
-
As for Harry and YN, when he arrives at the meeting headquarters, he’s bombarded by paparazzi but scurries inside.
YN - back at their hotel room, orders all his favorite snacks, sets up all the fluffy blankets and pillows on the living room couch for when he comes home.
She can tracks his movements on her phone so when he’s heading home, she jumps in the shower because she knows he will join her.
Which he does, as soon as he finds her, he strips out of all of his clothes - leaving his vintage bomber jacket and jeans on the floor as he crowds into her despite how massive the shower is.
He hugs her from behind and lays his forehead on the back of her head, “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” YN replies, putting her hands over his on her belly, “How was the meeting?”
“Stressful,” Harry sighs, pulling her back until she pressed up against his hard chest, “Already talking about the third album’s tour dates. S’just so much considering tha’ I’ve only toured the US for this one and have so many more dates in other countries.”
“Not surprised,” She replies with an edge of irritation, they always stretched him so fucking thin.
“Hey, hey darlin’,” Harry coos softly, kissing her hair, “As long as I have y’with me, m’good. S’gonna be okay, lovie. Don’t get all pouty on me.”
“I hate sharing you. I have to share you nearly every night with tens of thousands of people,” YN mumbles, turning around to smush her cheek against his peck, chest against his.
Harry can’t help but twitch at the feeling of her pert nipples on his skin but he chuckles deeply, “Darlin’, I come home to you, yeah? Every night, m’in our bed. I got a ring on m’finger letting everyone know who I belong to. S’just me and you, has been since we were sixteen.”
YN begins to pepper kisses on his neck as he massages at the little bit of pudge he can never get rid of on his hips.
“Sweetheart,” He groans loudly when her hand dips lower to grasp him in her grip and give him a few tight tugs, “How could y’think I belong to anyone else? S’your cock, baby.”
“Mmm, it is,” She agrees demurely, thumb rubbing at the sensitive spot beneath his crown before dragging over his drippy slit.
“Yeah, right like tha’,” Harry babbles, pushing into her hand to get a rhythm going - pants coming out from his plump lips as his eyes watch in rapt.
“Only I get you like this,” She states, almost to herself, as she sucks a gnarly hickey onto his chest near his sparrows - just to prove a point.
“Just you, you’re so good - fuck,” He hisses when she rolls his balls expertly with her other hand before he’s snapping out of it and shoving her off.
“Harry, what-“ She begins to ask, confused but she’s spun around once again and he pushes her against the cold tile - shushing her squeak at the coldness.
“Gonna let me ‘ave it?” His sex voice is in full force as his lips brush against her ear - she can feel how hard he is as he rubs up against her bum.
“Please, H,” YN whines impatiently, spreading her legs a bit further and pushing back until he snugs inbetween her cheeks.
“Yeah, s’okay. Let me give it to you,” Harry murmurs as he bends his knees a bit and grips her waist to position her until he’s slipping into her warm heat.
“Yes, shit,” She huffs as he begins a delicious pace that isn’t to fast but hard, enough that she has to focus on keeping her footing.
“Tha’s it. It’s all yours, take it, darlin’,” He encourages as he slams in with determination, hand reaching around to hold onto her breast.
“Baby,” YN moans loudly, echoing over the pounding water and echos throughout the room, “Fuck, that’s good.”
“God, y’so sexy. How’d I fuckin’ get you?” Harry hisses, he tugs her leg up and really starts fucking in until she’s screaming with pleasure as she orgasms.
Then he’s following behind with a few more directed thrusts until he’s spilling inside her - she can feel his ribcage expanding and deflating with each heavy pant of air.
“Mm, cuddle time now?” He asks innocently, like he wasn’t just spewing filth and fucking her brains out a minute ago.
“Y’in charge of scrubbing me since you insist on coming in me, then we can watch that new movie on Netflix, okay?”
Harry smiles boyishly, nuzzling her damp cheek.
“Y’act like it’s a hardship to wash up m’pretty lil’ wife. C’mon, spread ‘em.”
-
They’re halfway through the movie when YN pops her head up off Harry’s chest, “Can we go to that ice cream place down the street?”
Harry, who was admittedly dozing off, rasps out, “Y’want to go right now?”
“Please? They have fudge mint chocolate chip,” She gives him the best pouty lips that has him groaning but still agreeing.
“I’m only sayin’ yes because y’put out earlier,” He jokes as he tugs on his trainers and then his puffer jacket.
“You would have taken me if I hadn’t,” YN points out as she tugs on her own shoes.
He tries to conceal his fond smile but fails, “You’re right, still give you everything you wanted if you didn’t.”
-
Cameron was hallucinating, she was sure of it because when she steps in Big Scoops with her parents after a basketball game.
Harry fucking Styles and his wife are standing in front of him.
Holy shit.
She was trying to contain her fangirling as they stand right in front of her in line to get ice cream, like…what?
Cameron also completely regrets not turning in her chemistry essay because that earned her an F which in turn had her parents take away her phone.
She couldn’t document this moment.
YN and Harry both looked tired, Harry was standing behind his wife with his arms around her shoulders in a bear hug.
“Do you think they’ll give you a discount or a freebie?” YN asks her husband in a sweet, teasing tone.
“Y’have said that joke for the last eleven years and it hasn’t gotten any funnier,” He chuckles but it was with affection and tone like he found it funny but didn’t want to admit it.
“M’sleepy,” YN murmurs, a yawn following the statement - she turns around in his arms and hugs him, arms around his middle.
Harry waddles them forward when the line moves and she giggles cutely into his chest.
They were just so fucking cute.
“We can sleep in tomorrow,” Harry reminds her, quietly like he knows people might be listening to them, “Sound good, pet?”
“Mm,” She agrees, turning to order when it’s their turn and then Harry does - he steps forward to hand them his card and Cameron sees him sneak a fifty in the tip jar.
The teens behind the counter ask for a group picture which Harry agrees to but Cameron notices that the genuine, happy smile that he had for his wife contorts into a more tense, forced one.
She couldn’t really blame him. He was just trying to get a late night snack with his spouse before his show the next day.
Cameron notices that when they thank him and separate that YN rubs his back in reassurance and guides him out of the shop protectively.
She hears her murmur, “I know. Let’s go home, bub.”
She decides not to blast the encounter all over social media because tonight made him seem so much more human.
-
Lucy finds it to be such an odd experience, seeing Harry on stage the next night because of how she saw him the day before.
He was such a bright light on stage as he shimmied and danced like he was having them time of his life up there.
She is towards the back of the pit, when the show begins and YN trails out with Jeff and Tommy - Lucy makes eye contact with YN.
And to her utter surprise, YN beckons her over as Harry transitions into Only Angel, his wife yells over the music.
“Were you at the pizza shop yesterday?” YN asks curiously, leaning over the barricade.
Lucy is surprised by the fact that YN remembered her (she did have very distinct thick framed glasses and her hair was dyed electric blue so…).
She nods, starstruck, YN was even more beautiful close-up and her outfit fit her body perfectly, big engagement ring shining in the lights. ***(pretend the color matches his outfit).
“I just want to thank you for not blasting our business all over the internet, truly, thank you,” YN replies sincerely, a soft smile made Lucy feel welcome and less nervous.
Lucy had to take a moment to find her voice, “Y-you’re welcome, you guys deserve privacy just like the rest of us.”
YN turns to say something to Jeff that Lucy cannot hear and then she faces her again with an envelope in her hand.
“Two pit tickets, for tomorrow nights show,” YN informs her as she hands the shaking girl the item - ignoring all the other fans recording their interaction.
“Wha- are you?” Lucy stutters out in absolute disbelief - she had to be dreaming or something, instead she puts her foot in her mouth and chokes out, “Can I give you a hug?”
YN doesn’t think twice before she’s shooing off the security guards and reaching out to give her a tight hug.
Lucy pulls back, she happens to glance at the stage where Harry is staring at them intently - attempting to seem engaged in singing but he is watching protectively to make sure everything’s okay.
When YN and him make eye contact, she rolls her eyes at his watchfulness which makes him give her a dimpley smile and blow them a kiss.
Yeah, Lucy just won at life.
Sometime treating people with kindness really does pay off.
+
These are quite devastating
I've read that harry likes it rough and that he and zayn had the most hookups w fans and they knew what they wanted
Of course 🏃🏽♀️ freaks and players
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