becauseheartsgetbroken-hs
Physically I'm fine, emotionally I'm bruised.
Nancy, she/her • 24 • H is my comfort person • masterpost
pt.2
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A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — ONE
Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.
Rating: +18
WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.
Author's note: You have no idea how much I love these characters and how nervous I am to finally share this story again. I posted ATTTF for the first time back in 2022 but never got to finish it, so I'm hoping I'll get to do it this time! If you read this, I hope you enjoy it, and please be gentle with them! (lol)
PART ONE: 5,4k words
The sky is still dark when the Uber driver drops Aurora off at Stansted airport.
The polite man, who just kept her company for an hour and a half, wishes her a safe trip, and Aurora smiles, waving him a last goodbye and wishing him a good day right before she shuts the door of his black Toyota Prius. Once alone, a light breeze tickles her shoulders, but she doesn't give it enough time to settle as she rearranges the strap of the navy duffel bag on her shoulder and turns around, then sets her feet into motion.
Hopefully, she isn't late. She doesn't think she is. She left the house forty minutes before she needed to, and the ride to get there was shorter than expected because of the early hour, so she shouldn't be.
Still, she wants to make sure.
Just in case.
You can blame it on the fact that she hasn't spent a weekend with her friends in years. Or that it is the first time she's going out since… Well, since everything in her life turned upside down.
The strap of her bag slips from her shoulder, and Aurora catches it between her fingers. She puts it back in place and tightens her grip around the soft fabric, turning sideways to squeeze herself between a group of people that's happily chatting on the sidewalk. An apology leaves her mouth as she runs past them, but they don't seem to care nor notice they're standing in her way — or in everyone's way.
Has the Stansted airport always been this crowded?
The lights are bright outside, and the glass walls reveal how equally well-lit it is inside the terminal building. When she reaches the automatic doors, they take a moment to open, and she stops. It gives her enough time to catch a glimpse of her reflection, and her stomach quivers. Her hair is messy, the sports bag she's carrying doesn't match the maxi dress she's wearing, and she's showing off too much cleavage for a woman her age.
Those are too many things to notice in one quick glance, and she wishes she hadn't. Still, it is too early in the morning to feel insecure about the way she looks, and she doesn't have time for that. She has a flight to catch.
(Also, she really needs to pee right now.)
So she breathes in deeply and darts her eyes down, then takes her free hand up to her chest and pulls the fabric up. When she moves next, she keeps her sight fixed on the floor, then grabs the pendant of her necklace between her fingers and walks through the doors, biting the flesh inside of her cheek and fidgeting with the gold disk as her feet drag her inside the airport.
Everything feels slow and heavy. And there's a mix of nervousness and anticipation that's building up inside her. It's unsettling, but it keeps her moving, at least.
Once inside, Aurora looks up again. She turns her head to one side, then to the other, short nails never letting go of her necklace.
The wide open area in front of her leads to multiple check-in desks from several different airlines, but she ignores all of them, aiming solemnly on the huge departure boards placed around the terminal.
She doesn't have any luggage to drop, and her boarding pass is printed and ready inside her bag — and, just in case, there's also a copy of it saved on her phone — but she wants to make sure she won't be running late if she takes another five minutes for a quick run to the toilets before standing in line to get through security.
Her determination drives her forward, and she only stops walking when she's right in front of the closest monitor. She blinks a couple of times, making sense of all the information while searching for the only flight she cares about. And it only takes her a minute till she finds it:
6:45, Ryanair, Naples.
She drops her shoulders, and a yawn eases from her mouth, along with a shaky laughter.
She is fine. Everything's just fine. Desks aren't even open for check-in yet, so she has plenty of time to go to the bathroom and wake herself up. There's no need to collapse.
At some point she'll have to face the fact that she didn't sleep at all last night, but she plans to keep herself together and entertained until she's settled on her 2 hours and 45 minutes flight.
Then, she'll sleep.
Aurora turns around, and wanders her eyes to find the nearest toilets. She can't tell when was the last time she's been at Stansted Airport, but everything feels different from what she remembers. Did they go through renovations? Or has it always been big and hectic like this?
Well, it's not like Aurora is familiar with airports, anyway. She doesn't travel that much, and London has too many of them for her to get familiar with. The last time she went somewhere — anywhere — was for Noah's birthday, when she and Zack took him to Disneyland Paris for a quick celebration. They took a flight from Heathrow, though, and that place was so big that it did nothing but overwhelm her. So much that she barely remembers it.
Her chest tightens, and she closes her hand in a fist around the pendant.
A lot has changed since Noah's third birthday. In fact, everything changed because of Noah's third birthday. And things never stopped changing since then. Not even a year and a month later.
Oh God… In a couple of years she is going to be sitting on a leather couch, facing the traumatizing memories she and Zack created for him and apologizing for ruining his childhood.
She knows she will. She can see it happening.
A man bumps into her, and Aurora stumbles forward. She looks over her shoulder and apologizes, but he isn't around to listen anymore. Sighing, she lets go of her necklace and shifts her bag from one shoulder to the other, holding the strap to keep it firmly in place.
What was she even—Oh, toilets!
Right!
She shakes her head.
It takes her another minute until she sees some directions that will help her get there, and then she's walking again.
The toilets she's heading to are placed in a much quieter area, where even the lights are dim. Only a few people are there, seemingly waiting for time to pass — some occupying themselves with their phones on the chairs, but most of them laying on the floor, sleeping next to their luggage or using their backpacks as pillows. A baby cries somewhere distant in the terminal, and there's some coughing coming from a corner behind her, but besides that, everything's quiet.
She reaches the door at the exact moment a lady is walking out, and she almost bumps into her. They exchange polite smiles, and Aurora takes a step aside to make room for her to walk by. Once the lady is off her way, Aurora moves inside, then lets the door shut behind her, and everything goes silent.
The room is bright again, and someone must've just cleaned the place, because the smell of disinfectant is fresh and strong.
Aurora sighs. She heads to the last stall, walking past a row of other six on her way there.
After relieving herself, she stops by the sinks and washes her hands, taking the opportunity to look around her. And mostly to look at her.
The mirrors are big, almost covering the entire green wall between the sink and the ceiling, from side to side. To be fair, staring at her reflection doesn't sound like a good idea, but she promised she would try her best to go into the weekend with a positive mindset, and she can't do that while feeling so insecure about herself.
She lets the duffel bag slide down her arm and places it between her legs, then crouches to find her washcloth inside it. Holding the soft fabric between her fingers, she closes the zipper and stands up again.
Public toilets aren't the ideal places for skincare routines, but she's determined to do the best of whatever she can get. She places the washcloth on her shoulder and grabs the hair tie from her wrist, pulling her locks into a bun and getting them out of her way. Hunching down, she turns the tap on and puts her hands together, filling them with water before splashing it on her face. The coldness makes her wince, but it also makes her shoulders relax, and she pulls her lips into a timid smile.
She repeats the same process three times before grabbing the washcloth again and placing it against her skin. She doesn't rub it, but instead lets the fabric soak in the dampness. Finally putting her hands down, she looks at her reflection in the mirror, and bites the insides of her cheek. Her face looks more alive now that she's freshened up, but the rest of her body doesn't feel the same.
When she'd put that maxi dress on, an hour before leaving her house, she didn't think she would end up regretting the outfit. It's been probably a decade since the last time she's put it on, sure, but it used to be one of her favorites, and she always went for it when she didn't know what to wear. She used to consider it her safe choice.
And yet, wearing it now feels everything but safe.
It also doesn't feel nearly as comfortable as it used to. Maybe it's because of the straps… She never wears sleeveless outfits anymore, let alone something that's held by such a thin string of fabric. And the V neck… Oh God. How did she walk around London showing off her chest so comfortably? How did she go to class not bothering about people being able to see the curve of her breasts?
Even its color shade looks weird now, and she's not sure she enjoys how that rust red looks on her anymore. Her body hasn't seen the sun in a really long time, and her skin doesn't look very appealing — it's dry, and filled with stretch marks.
Honestly, the full length and loose fit are the only things she can still appreciate from the dress — although around her waist it doesn't feel as loose as it used to feel before.
Shit. Did she even pack one thing that's going to make her feel good about herself in Italy?
No, of course she didn't. Because Madison was the one who helped her pack for the weekend, so of course all of her choices included the tiniest, brightest and most provocative outfits that were hidden and forgotten inside of her closet since… Well, basically since Aurora stopped being single, to be honest.
"You need to loosen up," she'd said. Along with "you're divorced, not dead," and "your tits need to see the sun; they are gorgeous, they deserve it".
Alone inside the restroom, Aurora rolls her eyes at the memory of her best friend's words. Obviously, the whole chit-chat did nothing to convince her. Most of the old clothes Maddie had found hadn't seen the light of day in almost a decade, and Aurora doesn't have the same body she used to have back then to simply put them on again.
Not to mention she doesn't want Noah to ever see her wearing any of those outfits. It's not the image of a mother she wants him to remember. And she's been already messing up so many things for him, that she doesn't need to add "being an embarrassing mom" to the list — and she won't add an accusation of excessively exposing her son to his own mother's naked body in those future therapy sessions she already knows she'll be paying for.
Call it damage control, if you want to. After all, that's how she's facing it herself.
But then Maddie had put her hands on her shoulders, stared deeply into her eyes, and said: "it's going to be us. Just us. It's the perfect and safest place to have some fun and try out of your comfort zone. And you and I both know how much you need it right now." And Aurora couldn't fight her on that, so she said yes and agreed to put all of her jeans and t-shirts away for the weekend — which she can now confirm was a terrible, terrible decision.
She sighs. Again.
It's going to be a long weekend, isn't it?
Still examining herself, she turns around and looks over her shoulder, facing her back on the mirror. Fortunately, it doesn't show too much skin, although the flesh of her armpits could be more covered.
There was a time when Aurora felt breezy and comfortable on her own body. When she looked at herself and felt beautiful and free. Even sexy. Now, though, the simple thought makes her laugh. It sounds ridiculous, and she can't even make sense of it.
Biting her lip, she turns around one more time, and something catches her eye. She stops midway, narrowing her eyes to find out what it is, and then, she raises her eyebrows, and a spark of hope ignites inside her — she completely forgot about the adjustable straps!
Fully turning around, she squats down and puts the washcloth away, then stands up, already reaching both hands towards her back to tighten and shorten the strings. It isn't easy, and for a moment she even considers to hide inside of a stool and take the dress off to do it more comfortably, but eventually she succeeds, and the slight change instantly makes her chest feel more covered.
It's a small win, but Aurora is serious about making the best of whatever she can get that weekend, so she takes it, and smiles at her reflection.
The gold disk shines on her chest, and she takes it between her fingers, pulling it to her mouth and placing a soft kiss to it. She's really going to miss spending the weekend with Noah, but she knows she needs to take care of herself to be able to take care of him, and that it's also important for him to spend some time with his dad. Besides, it's only going to be three days — not even that. By Sunday afternoon she'll be back home with him, and everything will go back to normal.
Yes, see? That's it: two days.
Two relaxing and fun days with her friends, and then everything will go back to normal.
The line to get through security is huge.
Aurora stops behind a chatty and cheerful family of five, and sighs. She puts her frizzy hair down, then crosses her arms under her chest and lifts one hand to fidget aimlessly with her pendant.
Honestly? She can't wait to get to Italy. She can't wait to finally see that beautiful ocean in the Amalfi Coast. It's a trip she always dreamed about, but also one she didn't think would actually happen — and one she's sure she wouldn't be actually embarking on if she hadn't been forced to by her friends.
Aurora's mouth turns into a smile, and she looks at the ground, taking the pendant to cover her lips.
Despite everything that went wrong with her own marriage, she is happy for Lucy and Theo. She truly is. Just because things didn't work out for her, it doesn't mean they won't for them. Besides, their relationship is the only thing between all of them that hasn't changed since their graduation, so who knows? Maybe they'll have better luck than her and Zack. Maybe Lucy won't mess things up like she did, and maybe Theo won't—
"Auri?" a deep and low voice calls. Aurora furrows her brows and takes her hand down from her lips, putting her necklace back to its place. "Aurora?"
She turns on her feet, finding flamingos on a loose black shirt. Blinking a couple of times, she darts her eyes up, and meets the face of a friend she hasn't thought of in a really long time.
She widens her eyes, and places the palm of her hand on her cheek.
"Oh my God," she whispers. She raises her eyebrows, and her mouth curves into a smile at the same time it falls open. "Harry!"
She breathes out a laugh and takes a step forward, then stands on her tiptoes and throws her arms around his neck.
The duffel bag on her shoulder follows the movement of her body, hitting Harry's stomach before she can stop it.
"Ouch," he groans into her ear.
Aurora pulls away. "Sorry, sorry—"
He chuckles, hunching down slightly and placing his hands in the middle of her back.
"'S okay, c'mere," he says, pulling her body closer and crossing his arms around her waist, embracing her into a tight hug.
Heat takes over her body, radiating through her chest and tingling from head to toe. It's so good to see him! She can't help the smile that lightens up her face, so she closes her eyes and rests her chin on his shoulder, circling his neck with the same affection he's putting into his hold.
"What are you doing here?!" she asks, still too excited to let him go.
Did he get even taller?
Or is he just stronger than he used to be?
"Probably the same thing as you?" Harry chuckles.
Shit. She's so stupid! Of course Harry would be at Lucy and Theo's party. Of course! After all, he was part of the group, too. Sure, maybe the last to join and the youngest of them all, and also the only one living across the world, but still… He was—he is part of the group. And Lucy and Theo would invite him, too. Of course they would. How didn't she think of him when thinking about the weekend?
"Don't wanna break the moment," Harry murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down her back, "but I think we gotta walk."
Aurora jumps away, holding her weight on his shoulder and twisting her neck to see the line ahead of her. She slides her fingers down, watching as the family of five gathers their things. They aren't rushing, though, and it doesn't seem like they'll be taking more than two steps forward.
Still smiling, she bites her bottom lip to keep her excitement down, then looks back at him.
Harry is standing with his arms loose on each side of his body, chin down while he stares down at his chest.
Following his sight, Aurora finds her own hand, and she widens her eyes. She's clutching at the second button, where both sides of his black shirt with pink flamingos meet. His hairy chest is on display, just like tiny bits of black ink tattooed on his skin and the long golden string of a necklace.
A rush runs through her fingers, and she withdraws her arm.
"Sorry," she whispers, pulling her hand to her own chest and squeezing it into a fist.
Harry clears his throat.
"'S okay," he murmurs. Without looking at her, he straightens his back and stretches an arm, pointing out to the empty space in front of them. "Shall we?"
Aurora moves quickly, shuffling on her feet and nodding in silence. She turns around, and the strap of her bag falls from her shoulder, dropping to the crook of her arm. She winces, and stumbles a little.
"Shit."
"Here," Harry says, and the weight on her elbow disappears. "Let me."
Frozen, she watches — and feels — the way he gently grabs her wrist and takes her bag out of her arm, pulling it to himself.
"Harry…" She drops her shoulders. "You don't have to."
"Just walk, c'mon. We're holding the line."
Aurora peeks over his shoulder, and certainly people don't seem friendly while watching them. She sighs, but turns around and walks.
It only takes them three steps to reach the family of five once again, though, and she's back to facing him.
Harry is rearranging the straps on his shoulders, holding two duffel bags now — his own, and hers.
"Okay," she says, stretching her arm to him, "now give me that."
He chuckles, and dodges her. "Nope."
"C'mon!" She rolls her eyes, but a smile dances on her lips. "I can carry my own bag, okay?"
Harry shrugs. "Never said you couldn't."
She sighs, and tilts her head. "Harry…"
"Will you stop being stubborn?"
Harry grins widely, contrasting his words, and his eyes brighten with amusement.
Aurora lifts her brows and parts her lips. A shaky chuckle coming out of her mouth. "I—Excuse me?"
Harry diverts his eyes somewhere behind her, and he tilts his chin up.
"C'mon, we gotta walk again."
Lifting her left eyebrow, Aurora crosses her arms, and stares silently at him.
Harry glances back at her, then presses his lips together, watching her for a moment as he wanders his eyes around her face. He purses his mouth, and then he cracks into soft, genuine laughter.
"Ha!" He throws his head back for a moment, chuckling lightly, then looks back at her. "I totally forgot you could do that."
Aurora's beaming, just like him, but her heart is racing, and her breath gets stuck in her throat. His smile is really contagious, framed by deep dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles all around his eyes. It's hard not to feel mesmerized by it.
"Uh…" She blinks a couple of times. "Do what, exactly?"
He walks, prompting her to walk along with him. Still smiling, he points a finger up, right to her face. "The thing… Y'know. With your eyebrow."
"Oh…" Aurora widens her eyes for a second. "Right."
She laughs and shakes her head, relaxing the muscles of her entire body, including her face.
She takes one hand to her forehead, and rubs the tip of her middle finger on her left eyebrow. Even though it's something she used to intentionally do pretty often when she was younger, usually to prove a point, it was also something that came up so naturally to her that she never paid too much attention to it. And a habit that, with time, she left behind. However, now that she found out Noah thinks it's super cool that his mom can lift only one eyebrow while most people can't, she's been consciously doing it more often. She never cared about being a cool mom, to be honest, but lately it seems the title started to mean something to her.
They stop walking, much closer to the metal detectors now, and Aurora stretches her arm again. She doesn't say a word, simply reaching for the strap of her bag on his shoulder.
"Auri..." Harry chuckles. He grabs her wrist between his fingers, then slides his touch to her hand, taking it to his mouth. He places a single kiss on her knuckles, and looks at her. "Please, 's nothing. I promise."
Aurora presses her lips together tightly, words getting stuck on her throat. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to keep the warmth of his lips lingering onto her cold skin.
"Okay." She nods. Her voice is softer, and she looks down to smile. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he says, taking her hand down and gently letting it go. "Did you bring a jacket?"
Raising her head, Aurora narrows her eyes, and meets his stare. "What?"
"Your hand's really cold." He shrugs. "Do you want my jacket?"
Aurora chuckles, and waves him off. "Oh no, I'm fine. My hands are always cold."
Harry pulls his brows together. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it again.
"Anyway…" She clears her throat. "How are you? We haven't talked in… I don't know… Five? Six years?"
Harry looks down and nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Around that, yeah."
"Hmm… Well, I had no idea you were back in the UK!"
"Uh, yeah." He shifts on his feet, and shrugs. "Came back a couple of weeks ago, actually. Haven't seen anyone yet."
Taking one hand out of his pockets, he lifts his arm and scratches his jaw. The movement draws Aurora's attention to the facial hair he seems to be growing, but also to his chipped yellow nail polish and the three rings he's carrying on his fingers. And when he rakes the same hand through his curls, pulling his hair away from his face, she notices the amount of new tattoos covering his slightly tanned skin.
His movements are subtle, almost timid, but Aurora is hypnotized. She hasn't seen him since… Damn, when was the last time she saw him? He was at her wedding, she remembers that, because she remembers the floral-printed suit he was wearing, and that his hair used to be longer than—
Aurora gasps, and Harry jolts.
"What?"
"Your hair!" Uncrossing her arms, she takes a step forward. She stands on her tiptoes and reaches for his head, touching the tips of his short curls while switching her voice to a soft murmur, "It's so… Short."
Harry shoves his hand back inside his pocket, but doesn't say anything, and Aurora entertains herself stroking the hair at the back of his neck, and then pulling some longer bits around his ears.
"Oh my God…" she murmurs again.
For as long as she's known Harry, she's known him with curls long enough to french braid, pull into buns and even attempt some ponytails — he hated the last ones, by the way. The girls used to tease him for having softer and shiner hair than any of them, and they all even went through a phase of trying to use the same hair products as him.
And yet, looking at him now, she's not sure if there's length enough for even a hair clip. Well, maybe a tiny one, to keep those curls that fall into his forehead out of the way… But still…
"The line," Harry murmurs.
Aurora pulls her arm to her chest, and lands her heels back on the floor.
"Right."
She turns around and takes a couple of steps forward, and an unsettling feeling grows in the pit of her stomach. It squeezes her lungs, and it makes her mouth go dry, so she presses her lips into a hard line and swallows. Then, she takes a deep breath in. And another one.
There's silence between them, until Harry clears his throat.
"I cut it as soon as I left," he explains, and Aurora glances at him over her shoulder. "I think this is the longest it's been since then." He shrugs. "I'll probably do something about it next week."
Aurora hums, and curls one side of her mouth up.
"You got a lot of new tattoos, as well."
Harry smiles, albeit sheepishly, and nods once. "Guess I did."
Facing away from him, Aurora can't help but smile again.
What a weird thing it is, to stand in front of Harry after so many years and find everything about him so familiar, yet completely different and strange at the same time. To have grown so distant from his friendship, and yet feel as close to him as she's ever felt before.
How could she forget about him?
How could she go through life without thinking about a friend? Without wondering about how they are, or what's going on with their lives?
Shit.
Tapping one foot on the floor, she grabs her necklace between her fingers.
She can't spiral into this right now. She hates coming face to face with the person she's become, and this weekend isn't for her to swell into guilt and drama. She's supposed to have fun. She's supposed to let things go. She's supposed to—
"Auri?"
Aurora stops the steady movement of her foot, and looks at him over her shoulder. "Yeah?"
Someone from security calls the next passenger, and she follows Harry's movements to walk forward, not even bothering to look where she's going.
"Nothing." Harry shakes his head, dismissing the subject, but Aurora can see the way his brain is working hard to figure something out. Noah tends to do the same a lot of the time — he'll have questions, and when he doesn't understand the answer, he'll purse his lips and shift his eyes around him, as if looking for a different explanation.
It appears Harry is going through the same process, because he keeps staring at her arms, and at her hands. And when he pinches at his bottom lip — something she recognizes as an old habit of his — it's enough for her to confirm her suspicion.
"Harry…" She chuckles and rolls her eyes, making sure to keep her voice soft as she calls him out. "Don't be silly. Just say what's on your mind, c'mon."
An amused and short laugh leaves his chest, and she smiles at the way his entire face lights up again.
"'S nothing… I was just… Because you… I mean, you don't seem to be taking a lot of stuff… Then I realized you… Well… I was wondering…"
There's a bit of silence, and it quickly becomes clear he won't complete any of his half-sentences.
Aurora half-smiles. "Yes?"
"Sorry." He shakes his head. "Is your husband coming, too?"
"Oh…" She lifts her brows, then puts them down again.
She nods once, understanding where he's coming from. It is a genuine question, a very reasonable doubt. After all, the last time they saw each other was at the wedding — her wedding — and not many people know about the many changes in her life since then. So she can't expect him to know, nor blame him for asking.
She doesn't want to say the words out loud, though. Is there a way to tell him without actually telling him?
"Hm, no," she tries. "It's just me. Zack's with Noah."
Harry hums. He gives her a lopsided smile, and nods.
Aurora frowns, and turns around to face the line.
That probably wasn't helpful. It didn't announce Zack isn't in her life anymore. It just seemed like he stayed home with Noah.
Which he did, yes, but he isn't at home with Noah. He is at his own place, a very fancy apartment he didn't struggle at all to buy after their divorce.
Ugh! Why is it so hard for her to announce to the world that Zack isn't her husband anymore? He hasn't been for a while now, and it's not like she wishes he would still be. Honestly, figuring out her relationship with Zack keeps being exhausting, no matter how much distance she puts between them.
Will that ever change? Will things ever get easier for her?
"How's he, by the way?" Harry's voice sounds behind her. "Noah, I mean. Just turned four, right?"
Aurora bites her lip, but it isn't enough to hold back the grin on her face.
People move forward, and they walk a couple of steps. There are only three passengers left in front of the family of five.
Aurora nods.
"Yes, he's four now. And he's the most adorable kid in the world! So, so, so sensitive, and so smart" —she walks forward again, but doesn't stop talking— "and now he's getting into this stage of trying to do things by himself, and it's just so endearing to watch! And he's really chatty, too, oh my. He loves telling stories, so he keeps—"
Aurora widens her eyes, and turns around.
Harry is beaming at her, and she covers her mouth with one hand.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles against her palm, then puts it back down. "Sorry, sorry. I'm so—I mean, I know, I'm one of those mums now."
"What?!" Harry laughs. "I was loving it! Was even hoping you'd show me a couple of pictures."
Her cheeks warm up, and she looks at her feet.
"Right."
Her hair falls to her face, and she takes both hands to put it behind her ears.
Please, don't blush.
Please, don't blush.
Please just keep it together.
"Hey, I mean it." He places one hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. His hand is warm, but his rings are cold and her skin tingles with goosebumps. Shit. Now, her earlier prayer becomes a silent cry of help for him not to notice her reaction. "He sounds a lot like you, by the way."
Her lips twitch, and she bites her bottom lip to hold back the stupid smile that keeps looming on her face.
"Well… Would you really like to see some pictures? 'Cause I have plenty of them."
Peeking up at him, she finds him staring and smiling. Harry's hand is still on her shoulder, but it promptly circles her neck, grabbing her opposite side and pulling her forward.
Aurora holds her breath, crushing against Harry's chest as he squeezes her body and kisses the top of her head.
"God," he groans, his lips brushing her hair as they move, "you're so adorable. 'S so good to see you again."
Hii! If you're here, thank you so much for reading part one :) it truly means the world to me! I care a lot about this story and these characters, so I'd love to know your thoughts about it — and I hope you'll feel comfortable to share them with me!
Once again, thank you for reading! :)
Dani
PART TWO
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im babysitting my cousin's cat and he's the cuddliest cat you could know but his cuddles and the heat is a challenging combination 😩
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one of his best outfits and no one can convince me otherwise
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mutuals let's sit at the end of the dock and splash our feet in the water while we watch the sunset
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me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst
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Can you make a baby Harry collage he was such a tiny cutie pie 😭💞
hey lovely anon 🥰 did something slightly different, hope you like it 🙏
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‘cause we don’t say what we really meaaaaannn…
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Niall performing Stockholm Syndrome | The Show Live On Tour in Melbourne, Australia, Night II (May 4th, 2024)
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where's harry? i have separation anxiety.
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Warnings: 18+, smut, subrry, unprotected sex, friends to lovers
Word count: 7.5k
Pretty like yours
Your eyes were glued to those slutty yellow shorts. You just couldn’t force them to look away. Trusting that your sunglasses would conceal your ogling, you were facing the shoreline- thankfully women had good peripheral vision so you could get away with it.
But damn, was he hot. Hotter than the scorching sun, setting you afire more than the offending rays. You’d taken a time out from their volleyball game to go reapply sunscreen, but you weren’t sure you even wanted to go back. You had a much better view from where you were sat on the beach lounger. You couldn’t really focus on eyefucking him while you were playing, well, not without making a fool of yourself. And you couldn’t have that.
Not now that Harry was finally single.
God, you’d waited ages for him to finally be back on the market. You’d had the fattest crush on him ever since you met, ever since this whole group of friends from uni had formed, and it’d been absolute torture spending so much time with him knowing you couldn’t put the moves on him.
Not that morals had gotten in your way, no. You would’ve gladly set caution to the wind for Harry, but you just knew you wouldn’t have stood a chance. He’d been a lovesick puppy, to the point where it was actually quite sickening; to the point where your friends had to ask him not to bring his girlfriend along anymore when you all went out together because they were just too sickeningly in love. (You may or may not have been one of said friends). His ex wasn’t part of the group, not attending your university, and so was considered an “outsider”, and none of you ever brought your partners along when you all hung out, so Harry had only ever brought her to parties from then on. Parties you tended to avoid, as you weren’t exactly a huge fan out seeing them make out and get all handsy with each other, more so than they already were, especially a few drinks in.
You took a sip of water that was beginning to get way too warm and then got back to ogling him, planning your attack. You couldn’t help but smile at how he kept trying to move his hair out of his face, the breeze making it difficult for him to actually focus on the game. He’d let it grow out and now it was shoulder length. It made him unbearably hotter (which you wouldn’t have thought possible).
You were snapped out your reverie when you saw Harry wave at you, a smile on his face. You were momentarily taken aback to see him smile, he’d been sulking for the majority of the weekend trip to the beach, so initially you didn’t even realise he was waving at you.
But when he walked away from the group and started heading towards the beach loungers you knew you’d been caught staring. You’d seemingly forgotten to pretend you weren’t looking in that direction after having had some water.
Well, since you’d been caught you didn’t bother looking away as he walked over. At least he couldn’t see the way your eyes scanned him head to toe ever so slowly behind your glasses, taking in every bit of that tan skin, well defined muscles, tattoos on full display, and those offending itty bitty yellow shorts that did nothing to conceal the bulge he was sporting.
He sat down on the chaise next to yours and grabbed the water bottle, grimacing after taking a large gulp. “This is boiling at this point… Hey, you never got back; kinda hard to play a fair game with uneven team players.”
“Eh, wasn’t really feeling it.”
“Did you need help?”
“Hm?”
He looked down your body and you tried not to dwell on how his eyes seemed to have lingered for a tad longer on your boobs before travelling back up to meet your eyes “You said you’d take a time out to apply sunscreen; did you?”
Even you had forgotten you’d used that as an excuse to extricate yourself from the game. “Oh. Hadn’t gotten to it yet, was just… you know, catching my breath for a moment.”
“For a moment.” He flashed his dimpled smile at you, and you forced yourself not to furrow your brows. Was he onto you, had you really been that obvious?
Before you could clear the air, he reached for the bags and fished out the SPF. “Scoot forward, I’ll do your back.”
You did as instructed and felt Harry sit behind you, his thick, muscly thighs on either side of yours with how close behind he was sitting, and then felt him gently sweep your hair over your shoulders and to the front. “The waves look really good on you.”
You were glad he couldn’t see you blushing. It’s not that Harry hadn’t complimented you before, he was very considerate and nice overall- with all of your friends. But you couldn’t help but hope that maybe now that he was single he might start to see you in a different light.
“Thanks. It’s from how I kept it in braids.”
You felt him smooth his big palms over your back after you’d heard him massage the lotion in between them for a while to ensure it wouldn’t be too cold, although you’d have probably welcomed the sensation with how hot it was.
“It’s almost as curly as mine now.”
You tried your best not to make any embarrassing noises with how good it felt to have him massage the lotion into your skin. He moved his hands slowly but deliberately, working the SPF into your skin. It felt heavenly.
“Well, not quite,” you smiled. “Yours grew out so much, H. I was actually admiring it when you walked back here, it really suits you. Though it seemed to be a pain playing volleyball, you should tie it up to keep it out of your face now that it’s long enough.”
“Thanks…” you could hear the coy smile in his voice. You couldn’t understand how this man could grow shy when this whole beach had been eyefucking him since you’d gotten there, and the others hadn’t been nearly as stealthy about it as you’d been.
“Want me to braid it for you?”
Harry’s hands stilled on either side of your waist, squeezing the plush skin there. “Oh? Do you think it’s long enough…?”
You turned to look at him over your shoulder, pretending to assess the length, but really, you just lingered on his lips the most. He was so close. And his lips were so kissable. They had this really pretty, dusty rose hue to them, something men shouldn’t be endowed with to begin with. You had to layer on a number of lip products to get yours to look this good.
“Yeah. Hop on the sand in front of the chaise and I’ll do it right now if you want.”
You watched those perfect lips stretch into a beautiful smile, his dimples making an appearance as well and stealing your attention for a bit. “Yeah? Ok!” He stood up and did as instructed sitting between your legs now, as you scooted even closer to the edge of the seat. “Wait, don’t forget to put on lotion first.”
“No, I’ll just get my hands all oily, I don’t wanna mess up your hair. I’ll do it after.”
“I’ve never had it braided before.” You could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. “Think it’ll look pretty like yours?”
You bit back your smile, trying to focus on the task at hand. You ran your fingers through his curls first, trying your very best to detangle the hair without pulling at the strands at all. His hair was very soft to the touch, even with how much you’d all been swimming since you’d gotten there. “Prettier. Your hair’s so soft. What’s your secret, hm? Mine is already so stiff with all the salty seawater, but I guess it helped with the waves since I let it dry braided, so I can’t complain.”
Harry didn’t reply. His head was hung back as he rested against the edge of the chaise, and he even let out a breathy moan when you used your nails a bit to separate the strands one from another. “Oh, you like this, don’t you?” you teased.
“I might need you to do this everyday, feels amazin’.”
You softly chuckled and began braiding, making sure to keep his hair taught, pulling on it a bit to get the desired effect, but Harry seemed to really enjoy it. His mouth fell agape and his eyes were closed and you took your sweet time with each braid, savouring the experience as much as he was.
“You deserve it, H… You know, I’m glad you came along this weekend, was afraid you’d skip again. We missed you.”
He fluttered his eyes open at that, and ran his hands up and down his thighs absentmindedly, his knees bent to his chest. Those meaty thighs had made a guest appearance in your dreams more than once, and you eyed his tiger tattoo smiling to yourself remembering one of your more recent fantasies about it. You willed your mind out of the gutter, though.
“You know you can talk about it, if you want, right? I’m here.” You spoke softly, coaxing him to open up to you. Not only to get closer to him, but you were genuinely worried for him. The others loved to tease him about it, but you could tell he was frustrated with how he probably couldn’t confide in any of them, lest he be teased even more for it.
He nodded, careful not to move his head too much and accidentally ruin your handiwork.
“I can tell you’re heartbroken. Just… want you to be happy.” You finished braiding, tying his hair using the same elastics you’d taken out of your own hair, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, then circled your arms around his shoulders, hugging him from behind.
He reached to grab one of your hands in his and squeezed it as he leaned his temple against yours. “I’ll be alright… eventually. Right?”
His voice was so small and dejected that it made your own heart break a little. He was hurting more than he was letting on. You knew he’d been with his ex for almost 2 years, and although you hadn’t had such a long relationship yourself, you knew it couldn’t have been easy. You’d also never been in love, so you couldn’t even imagine what he was going through. You didn’t know why they’d broken up, but you had a feeling his ex had been the one to break his heart, not the other way around.
“Of course, H. You’ll be fine. I promise. Don’t you trust me?” You mumbled against his ear reassuringly.
“I do.”
“It’s ok to be sad. But you’ll soon be happy again, happier even. Because you don’t need someone who doesn’t appreciate you, yeah? You’re such a great guy, and anyone who doesn��t see that doesn’t deserve you. I promise you’ll find someone who’ll make you forget about her altogether.”
Harry sighed heavily. You weren't even sure he’d listened to any of what you’d told him. He interlocked your fingers and brought your conjoined hands lower, pressing them to his chest, against his heart. “Think it’s ever gonna beat right again?”
You chuckled at how corny he was “Yes, you big ol’ softie, you. Someone will take all the broken pieces and carefully glue them right back together and it’ll be as good as new in no time. Better even, like kintsugi.” He turned his head to look at you confusedly and you explained, “you know, the japanese art of glueing back broken objects with gold.”
You pulled back, grabbed the lotion and stood up. Squirted some into your palms and started massaging it all over your torso. Harry looked up at you and shielded his eyes, and you moved one of your feet between his legs so you’d block the sun from getting into his eyes. “Wanna go for a swim, now that you’re all fit to brave the waves with your new braids?”
Harry smoothed his palm gently over his hair, feeling for the braids, almost as though he’d forgotten all about them. He watched you intently as you rubbed the lotion into your skin, bent at the waist to reach your thighs and now your calves, and when you stood back upright you could’ve sworn his eyes had been glued to your cleavage. Which, in all fairness, you’d hung your tits right in his face- you’d have found it weird if he hadn’t. Heartbroken or not, he was still a man. And you looked good in that bikini, if you did say so yourself.
And he looked good with his hair braided like that, too. There was just something about Harry that made him look hot no matter what, he didn’t even have to look too manly. In fact, that was one of the things you’d always loved about him. He wasn’t afraid to show off his feminine side. He was a pretty boy as much as he was a handsome man. He just knew how to flaunt both sides in equal measure and that made him all that more attractive in your eyes.
You were once more snapped out of your train of thought when you felt his nimble fingers on your ankle, he was touching your ankle bracelet, fidgeting its trinkets. He then wrapped his hand around the ankle and slowly looked back up at you. “No, you go. I’ll head back to the hotel for a bit.”
He then removed his hand and you took a step back to allow him to stand, now towering over you and you wondered whether you’d pushed it a bit too far. He looked… slightly annoyed, and visibly saddened. That frown line erased all his sweet, feminine features and you wished you could just smooth it out, running your fingers over it and caressing all over his face, much like you did with his hair. You almost did so, when he took a step back and then turned towards the hotel that was right across the private beach, a small walk away.
You let out a breathy sigh. You’d probably been a bit too nosey, he was likely not ready to hear all that yet. He’d just broken up with his ex, and he was allowed to feel sorry for himself and still miss her.
You got into the water knee-deep, contemplating all this, when you realized you’d used your hairties on Harry, and you really didn’t feel like getting your hair all wet again. Not now that, without the braids, it’d just dry down all wonky and you wanted to keep the waves. Especially with how Harry had complimented you.
With a huff, you walked back to shore and everyone was back at your spot, drinking water and making plans for early dinner. They were contemplating going to a spot by the pier so they wouldn’t have to bother getting dressed, but you opted out. The way Harry had left all dejected didn’t sit right with you, and you feared you’d crossed a line and upset him with what you’d said. You wanted to go make sure he was ok.
“You guys go along, not feeling very hungry. Catch you later.”
“Where’s Harry?”
“I texted him and he didn’t get back to me. Y/N, mind dropping by our room and see if he wants to grab dinner with us? He’ll be even grumpier if he finds out he missed out ‘cause he’s been too busy sulking over Marrisa.”
Sarah elbowed Mitch, “Hey. Come on guys, quit teasing him. He’s clearly very upset over this, and this trip was supposed to help him take his mind off things. Your constant nagging is just making matters worse.”
Mitch rolled his eyes, “It’s been over a month, how long is he gonna moan about it? So what, she cheated on him- life goes on! He needs to get out there and have some fun and put this all behind him.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes at him, and you knew Mitch was in for it. They thought they were being sneaky, but everyone knew they were getting cosy with each other as of late. It was still early days, you could tell, but Mitch might have just dug his grave with this one.
“Yeah, I’ll drop by your room and ask him, he’s probably napping though so I won’t wake him up if that’s the case.”
“I mean… if he’s grumpy we didn’t wake him up for dinner, it’s on you.”
“No pressure,” you gulped audibly for dramatic effect and began walking back to the hotel. You really hoped he wasn’t, in fact, napping, and not just for everyone’s sake. You wanted to clear the air a bit and apologise if you’d struck a chord earlier.
You were just about to knock when you heard something on the other side of his hotel room. You decided to stick your ear against the door and make sure you weren’t hearing things before actually knocking, and there it was again, only this time, louder. Clearer.
Was he unwell?
Maybe it was sun poisoning. You felt bad to just walk away without offering to help. So you decided to knock on the door softly. “Harry?”
After a long pause that had you convinced he hadn’t heard you and ready to knock again, you heard him. “...Yes?”
“Are you alright in there?… Can I help? Do you need anything?”
Silence.
You were starting to grow worried, why wasn’t he answering right away if he could hear you?
“I… I think I do, yeah.”
“What is it? Tell me. You’re worrying me.”
You heard him fumble around a bit and could tell he was getting up from bed and finally, finally, he opened the door the tiniest bit, his body behind it. He looked flushed and a bit sweaty.
When he wouldn’t speak, his eyes downcast, you reached out to touch his forehead. “You’re warm, what’s the matter? Is it sun poisoning? Or were you having a bad dream? It sounded like you were in pain. Came to check if you wanted to join the guys for dinner.”
“They’re out at dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t wanna go?”
You huffed at his avoidency. “Well can I come in, or are we gonna keep talking in the doorway? Wanted to talk to you, anyway.”
He cleared his throat and stepped back, making room for you to step inside and closed the door behind you, locking it. You raised an eyebrow at the sound, turned around and noticed he was holding the bedsheet tightly around his waist.
“What did you wanna talk about?”
“Yeah, uhm… Earlier, I got the vibe that I might have upset you… with what I said, about Marissa. I know it’s shitty to hear bad stuff about your ex soon after the break-up, like, it never really sits right even if it’s true and even if the person meant well saying those things, to help you move on… I know it’s not how it works. But I was just trying to make you feel better.”
Harry exhaled audibly through his nose, leaning against the doorframe. “I know you meant well. And it was true. I know you’re right, everyone’s right…”
“The guys are being jerks, teasing you like that. But they do mean well…”
"Yeah…” he cleared his throat after a beat, glancing at you from under his thick lashes, a smile playing on his lips. “You were trying to make me feel better?”
You gave him a small smile back “Of course.”
“You offered to help earlier.”
You furrowed your brows, looking around for something amiss. He seemed fine. You’d forgotten all about those noises from earlier. When you looked back at him readying yourself to ask him what was wrong again, he bit his lower lip and pulled the bedsheet off himself.
“Oh… my God.” You covered your mouth in disbelief, your eyes glued to his glorious cock, all hard and heavy. You watched as it twitched at your reaction and you couldn’t stifle a moan at the sight.
Harry’s lips curled up in a smug smile, he was happy with your reaction, if a bit shy. You could tell he was struggling to silence the thoughts that were no doubt running through his mind. He was recently broken up and most probably still in love with his ex. But clearly, he wanted to do something about that. And he wanted your help with it.
“Are you… are you sure?” you decided to risk it and ask, the last thing you wanted was for him to regret this and avoid you as a result.
“Do I look unsure?”
“I mean… depends where I’m looking. Your eyes tell a different story…” you walked closer to him and made sure to keep eye contact, as much as you wanted to keep staring at his naked body. You wanted to feel him out and also show him you were being mindful of his emotions.
His gaze darkened a bit, staring at your lips. “Came back here to feel sorry for myself, but I couldn’t stop picturing you from earlier… in this skimpy little bikini.” His eyes raked down your body, using the opportunity to get a good eyeful of you upclose. “I was imagining you’d followed me back here. Got a semi at the beach with how you ran your fingers through my hair, loved it when you pulled at the strands a bit… was imagining you doing it on purpose, to tease me. I know you…” he lowered his eyes again, a shy smile on his lips “I know you are a bit more dominant... you’ve mentioned it a few times. I’ve always been curious about that, never had anyone boss me around in bed. I’ve wondered what it’d be like, and it always gets me so hard…”
“...Always?” All of this was a shock to you, but here he was implying he’d fantasised about you before.
“I sometimes used to catch myself fantasising about you… and I willed those thoughts away.” You watched as he grabbed himself, stroking lazily, shuddering at the contact. “But now that I don’t have to anymore… it’s you, everytime I touch myself.”
You were stunned. And also, you couldn’t get your eyes off of how he was stroking his cock. Had he been doing this ever since he’d gotten to the hotel room? “You’ve, uhm… you’ve been back here a while.”
“Yeah. It’s getting painful. But I love edging myself,” he shrugged and lowered his gaze. He was just unbearably hot when he acted all shy like that. And you knew it wasn’t just an act, he really was like that, he’d always been like that. Both cocky and shy in equal measures, much like his feminine side. It was a heady mix. “Although, I’m pretty sure I’d love being edged more,” he added, his voice small.
“You really were thinking about me?” you whispered, getting even closer, close enough that your noses were almost touching.
He nodded, causing the tips of your noses to touch just like you’d foreseen. “Is that so wrong? So… soon? And even before… I didn’t mean to. I tried not to. I always told myself I was just curious about being with someone more dominant. But it’s not just that. It’s you.”
Damn.
Feeling like that was more than enough confirmation that this wasn’t just a hasty, heat of the moment thing that he’d regret later on, you bridged the small distance and moulded your lips to his.
And with how shy he tended to get, you expected him to be hesitant and tentative but Harry grabbed you by the hips and pressed you flush against his naked frame, making sure you felt exactly how hard he was against your belly. You couldn’t even really focus on that, not when his tongue was licking gently at your lower lip, begging for entry, which you welcomed with enthusiasm. He was such a naturally good kisser, none of it felt mechanic in the least, he wasn’t trying to impress, wasn’t trying to keep it nice and contained, he was giving it his all without being overwhelming. Sloppy, but still intense. You felt dizzy already.
It was such an overload of feelings. The smell of him so upclose- he’d been running around the beach in the sun and his natural scent mixed with saltwater from the swimming was making you dizzy; the way you could feel his breathing fan your cheeks; feeling him solid and real underneath your palms as you steadied yourself, snaking your arms around his neck- it was all making you feral. You’d imagined this so many times but this was so much better than you’d ever allowed yourself to fantasise.
You pulled back a bit, making a mental note of doing this right, making it good for him. You wanted to show him how good you could be for him, wanted to get him hooked on you now that he’d gotten a taste. You didn’t know whether this would just be a one time thing, or if it’d turn into something casual, a friends with benefits type of situation perhaps, or maybe even more than that. You didn’t want to dwell on it yet. You were perfectly fine with any of the options, in truth. It was Harry, not a random bloke, and as open minded as you were, still, you weren’t the kind to just sleep around. You knew that, with him, it’d never feel cheap or meaningless.
“Tell me what you need, Harry. Wanna hear you say it.”
And there it was, his shyness was overcoming him again, and you didn’t allow him to look away, not when you reached out and grabbed his cock from in between you, stroking it gently, mindful of tugging too hard on his soft yet dry shaft.
His mouth fell agape and his eyes rounded with lust, and when you swiped at the precome at his tip he squeezed his eyes shut to compose himself. “I just need you. Need you to make me feel good, however you see fit.”
“Yeah, want me to take the lead, then? Make all the decisions, have you not worry about any of it? Order you around, dominate you?”
He nodded, resting his forehead against yours and then chasing your lips with his and you tutted, “Ah, ah. Be a good boy, then. If you want something, ask for it.”
“Okay.” His voice was small and whiney, he was gone. “Can I keep kissing you, please?”
You hummed your approval “There’s a good boy.” You hovered over his lips, still tugging at him nice and slow, making him pant in anticipation. “Go on then, kiss me.”
You got lost in the kiss. It felt too good to be just a kiss, you were wondering how you were going to handle more. And more seemed to be exactly what he had in mind as well, his hands starting to roam gently over your body. “Ah, puppy, you were doing so good. Hands behind your back until you learn to ask, alright?” He complied reluctantly, visibly frustrated because he’d really wanted to cup a feel, but also just as visibly excited to do things on your terms and finally get a taste of what this new dynamic might feel like.
“Tell you what, I”ll let you kiss what you can’t touch yet, how’s that sound?”
He whimpered at the sound of that and you walked back towards the bed and sat at the edge. “Go on then, on your knees pretty boy.” You willed yourself to take it slow, make it a pleasurable experience for him- a memorable experience. Reminded yourself to pay special attention to his body language, as he wouldn’t know to communicate if he wasn’t entirely comfortable with any of what you planned on doing. This was uncharted territory for him. You had to be responsible and make him feel safe at his most vulnerable. So, you couldn’t lose yourself in it and dive right in, as you would with people that have toyed with powerplay before.
You couldn’t wait to have your way with him, but as it just so happens, you were also very much into edging as well, so, really, it was a win-win.
You parted your knees for him to kneel in between and then moved your hands behind your back, untying your bra and slowly peeling it off of your torso. His eyes darkened considerably at the sight of your bare breasts, and his hands came to rest over your thighs as he got closer, growing a lot more impatient. You swatted them away, “Hands behind your back, Harry. Don’t make me have to tell you again.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry– I just… Fuck, Y/N,” he shook his head, trying to calm himself down, hands obediently behind his back. “Can I taste, then? Please?”
You smirked at him, happy to see he was playing along as you’d hoped “Of course you can, baby. Been waiting for you to wrap those pretty pink lips around my nipples. Go on then,” you brought his head closer by the back of his neck, guiding him towards your left breast and he immediately latched onto it, sucking greedily, his mouth nice and warm and wet, making you throw your head back. “Oh god, so good. Love your mouth, puppy.”
Harry looked blissed out, alternating between sucking on your nipple and licking all around it, mouthing at the underside of your boob and over to the other one, lathering them both in his saliva, wet and noisy and perfect, just like you knew he’d be. “Been waiting for this?” He mumbled against your bud watching for your reaction, and even though he was trying to tease a bit you could see vulnerability in his eyes as he waited for your reply.
You nodded, biting your lower lip “Have had the fattest crush on you ever since I can remember. Fuck, I could come from this alone…” you whined, he was really good at this. But then again, you always knew he’d be. Just because he hadn’t explored his subby side didn’t mean he hadn’t explored everything else. “Don’t act surprised. I’m sure it was painfully obvious,” you murmured, your turn to feel shy.
That made him moan against your breast, biting on the plump flesh and no doubt leaving a bit of a mark and you allowed it, since you loved it so much anyway. “Wish I’d known sooner.”
You didn’t dwell on it for too long. You couldn’t allow yourself to, didn’t wanna catch the wrong idea and get ahead of yourself. Maybe you’ll talk about it later, but right now? Right now he was working you up into a frenzy. “Well, you know about it now. What’cha gonna do about it, pretty boy?”
“Whatever you want me to do.”
You sunk your fingers between his braids and tugged at the roots a bit, unlatching his mouth from your breasts. The lewdest moan left his lips before you pulled him in for another sloppy kiss. He was growing needy and you could practically see him slip further and further into his subspace. “Love this greedy mouth, H. What else can it do, hm?”
“Please, Y/N. Let me eat that pussy.”
You smirked, that was music to your ears. “Good boy, puppy. Love it when you ask nicely. You gonna lap me up, make me come on your tongue?”
“Please, please.” He reached to kiss you again and you laughed against his mouth.
“Greedy puppy. Remember you need to ask first. You’ll learn though, won’t you?”
“I’ll do anything. I’m sorry, I will. Just– please...”
“You can use your hands to hold me open, but I only want your mouth on my pussy. Alright? I’ll let you know when you can do more.”
He nodded vigorously against your lips and kissed you a few more times for good measure before pulling back a bit and watching as you untied your bikini from the sides, pulling the damp fabric off of you and finally exposing yourself to him fully.
You scooted back a bit, leaning on your elbows and gestured for him to have at it. With laboured breathing, he glanced at you for a second before he pressed his hands against the undersides of your thighs and planted the soles of your feet on the edge of the bed, spreading you open for him.
He moaned loudly at the sight, his eyebrows pinching together as if in pain. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re dripping for me. Fuck, fuck…”
“Do something about it, then.” Your own voice was starting to betray just how far gone you were as well. You were gagging for it now, but you were hellbent on dragging this out for his sake more than yours. All you wanted was for him to sink that glorious cock inside of you and end your suffering, but you could wait it out a bit, especially when it meant watching him stare at your pussy as though it was his favourite dessert.
He wasted no time, bending over you and dragging his tongue slowly up your folds in one delicious swipe. He wrapped his lips around your clit, humming loudly against it, and your head fell back, crying out your pleasure when he started lapping at you in earnest. He made sure to sink the tip of his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole on each pass, then dragged it back up focusing on your clit again.
He ate you out like he was kissing you, same sloppy, yet intense, unpracticed manner. He just did what felt right to him and what he found you were most responsive to. Right off the bat, you could tell you were done for. This man ate pussy like it was his favourite cheat meal.
“So good, Y/N. Fuck, I’m losing it.”
“Wanna use your fingers, pretty boy? Slide one or two inside of me, feel me out? Coat those pretty, painted nails in my juices?”
Harry whined “Pretty like yours?”
“Prettier,” you smiled remembering your same reply from earlier on the beach.
A strangled moan escaped his lips as he buried his face against your core and nuzzled your clit with that perfect nose of his. He was hellbent on getting you off, and truth be told, you were holding off your orgasm. Nobody had gotten you there quite as fast before.
“Do it then, get me nice and ready for that big fat cock of yours.”
He groaned, resting his forehead against your thigh momentarily, then shook his head smilingly. He was both in agony and ecstasy, the anticipation visibly killing him. He brought his middle finger to his mouth, sucking on it, getting it all nice and wet and you caught his wrist before he brought it to your weeping core, wrapping your own lips around it first.
He cried out as though you’d just taken his cock in your mouth instead, which was exactly what you’d hoped for. “Now get to it, baby. Wanna soak those fingers.”
“Fuck. Yes, please.” He got right to it, running his finger through your folds before finally sinking it inside you, agonisingly slowly. “So tight, fuck, Y/N. Can’t wait to bury myself in this snug little pussy…”
He leaned back in to suck on your clit as he began petting your front wall with the pad of his meaty finger and you collapsed on your back completely. When he added a second finger, you lost it.
“So good, Harry. Fuck, you’re so good. Eat that pussy just right. Gonna come all over your pretty face.”
“Please, please do it, Y/N. Need it.” He whined, increasing the speed of his thrusts and pressure he applied to your g-spot. He lapped and sucked on your clit noisily, moaning everytime you clamped around his fingers, getting closer and closer to your release.
And when you finally came, he kept at it, burying his face flush against your pussy and lapping up all your juice like a starved man. You knew if he kept going you’d come again, but that would take too much out of you and you still wanted him to fuck you.
You wasted no time, bending to kiss his lips in gratitude while you still felt some of the aftershocks run through you. “Need you inside me now, baby. Want you to ruin me, think you can do that?”
He nodded against your lips, smearing your arousal all over your own face as well and he then went to kitten-lick it off of you as you crawled back on the bed, pulling him with you. “I can, I know I can. Let me be good for you, Y/N.”
“You’re so good for me, H. Made me see stars with how good you are. I just know once you sink inside me you’ll ruin me for everyone else. Want you to.”
Harry looked as though he was high. As though he couldn’t believe what he was experiencing was actually real. He looked dazed out and he was sweating, panting heavily in anticipation. “Been edging myself for a while, and I almost came when I had my mouth on you. Dunno how long I’m gonna last… will you give me another chance if, if–”
You chuckled softly at how frenzied he seemed “I won’t mind if you come fast, puppy. Just ask me for permission before you do, alright? We got all the time to play, and I still wanna suck you off, too. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I knew you’d not last long and I wanted to edge you a bit first, since you told me you’d like it. Did you not like it, baby?”
“I loved it, love you telling me what to do, when to do it. Never had this before. Never knew how much I needed it. Please, Y/N, I need to be inside you.”
You opened up your thighs even more for him “Rub that pretty cock all over my pussy, Harry, get it nice and wet.”
He bit his lower lip, positioning himself right at your entrance and wrapping his hand around himself finally. He squeezed tightly, trying to compose himself a bit and then dragged himself between your folds just like you’d told him to. He slapped his tip against your clit a few times which made you arch your back and then felt him at your entrance, the stretch already making you clamp around his tip.
“Go on, puppy, fuck me good. Want to feel you all the way up into my belly.”
Harry groaned loudly at your words and the feel of you engulfing him perfectly. Once he got his fat head past your entrance, and you clamped down on him on instinct, he pulled back, making you cry out.
“Sorry, sorry! Fuck, that was–”
“It’s alright baby, try again, I know you can do it. Know you can hold off a bit, be a good boy, hm? I need you so much.” You whined, pulling him in for a kiss and giving him a moment of reprieve to gather his bearings.
He didn’t even need to guide himself into you, he was hard enough to push right in, and you didn’t break the kiss as you moaned into each other’s mouths. You let him kiss you as he slowly worked his way inside you, all the way to the hilt and you threw your head back when he pushed against your cervix deliciously. “Fuck me, you’re so deep; gonna be so sore, Harry. Make it hurt, baby, come on.”
Harry gritted his teeth, mustering all his stamina to focus. He was too far gone to tease, and so were you, so he sat back on his haunches and threw your legs over his shoulders, thrusting into you at a fast, steady pace. He held your hips tightly at first, then moved his large hands lower under your bum, lifting it off the mattress and working you over him to meet his thrusts all the more intensely. You cried out, it was a lot to take in. He was quite large and girthy as it was, and he was rock hard. But it hurt so good.
When you reached your hand to rub your clit, Harry groaned so loud you thought he was coming. But he pushed through, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on holding off. “None of that, puppy. Look at me. Look what you do to me. Gonna come for you again, I’m so close. Please. If you’re a good boy I’ll let you come all over my tits… you know… since we skipped the rubber.”
Harry’s eyes went from blissed out to shocked, his movements slowing down considerably- he’d clearly absolutely forgotten all about protection.
“Relax, H. I’m on birth control. And I’m clean.” And, you’d totally forgot about it too. So you couldn’t let him take all the blame for being reckless.
Harry choked out a sigh of relief. “I am too! Got tested after I found out she’d been cheating… Fuck, I’m so sorry, Y/N… we hadn’t been using any, she was on the pill… It totally slipped my mind–”
You took the opportunity to flip him over and straddle him. “Shhh. Enough of that. You’ve been so good for me, baby. Just sit back and let me take care of my good boy.”
You wasted no time getting you both back on the brink of orgasm. Harry even brought his thumb to your clit, as his large hands held you flush against him, coaxing you to grind yourself on him as deep as he would go, remembering to ask for permission first, which made you whimper and praise him for being so well mannered.
“Please, Y/N… wanna be good for you… but–”
“Wanna come, puppy?”
He nodded frantically “I’m gonna burst, it’s too good… you’re too good. You feel amazing. You’re such a wet dream, Y/N.”
His voice was raspy with need. You could tell he was trying his level best to wait for you to come, and you decided to have mercy on him “Beg. Beg for me to let you come, Harry.”
He threw his head back, his muscles taut, struggling to hold off. “Please, please… Fuck, I’m desperate, please baby…”
“Hmmm… should I? I haven’t come yet…” you teased, clamping down around him to push him over the edge.
But you gasped in surprise when he pulled you flush against him, holding you tight, and started thrusting into you with wild abandon as he panted into your ear “I’m begging. Come for me, Y/N. Please. Need you to come. Give it to me.”
You lost it. The sudden flip in demeanour had you spiralling, and he was fucking into you so good, the angle just right, that it threw you over the edge, taking you completely by surprise. You’d been extremely close, but the way he went about it had made you come instantly.
Feeling you spasm all around him and hearing you moan and whimper loudly had him join you immediately. You were both crying out your pleasure, and it was downright pornographic. You’d kept it at a reasonable volume throughout, seeing that you were in a hotel room and knowing your friends might come back from dinner any moment, but neither could hold back when you finally reached your peaks.
Harry kept you flush against him as you both tried steadying your breathing and your heartbeats and then searched for your mouth, giving you a lazy kiss. “Sorry for not asking permission… at the end, there.”
The hint of mischief in his voice wasn’t lost on you. You hummed, biting his lower lip teasingly “Guess I’ll have to punish you for that.”
A smirk tugged at his lips as he gently placed a loose strand of your wavy hair from over your sweaty temple to behind your ear “Was hoping you’d say that.”
lhh Masterlist
A/N: missed writing for my favorite muse! and it's my first time writing subrry! hope i did him justice ❤️
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campfire chronicles (camp counselorry)
in which harry and y/n are counselors at a sleepaway camp and he hates her from the very second he meets her. or, a classic enemies to lovers summer romance.
word count: 9.2k
content warnings: harry's a dick at first, minor mentions of childhood trauma and divorce, small panic attack scene, tiny mention of drowning, not proofread bc im lazy
so basically I started writing this a bit ago and planned for it to be a full series but then things got ... complicated and I haven't really had much motivation to write for harry. there won't be a part two to this but I think I wrapped it up pretty okay so there isn't a cliffhanger or anything!
I'm not sure if this will be the last fic I write on here but if it is, consider it a parting gift! thank you for all the support and love and I hope you enjoy!
masterlist
Harry Styles is the bane of Y/N’s existence.
…Okay, so maybe she’s being just a tad bit dramatic. But she has good reasoning for it — she swears! All she wanted to do was make some money this summer by working at Happy Campers, a sleepaway camp that was looking for counselors to work from early June to mid-August.
She’d initially seen the flier as she shlepped her canvases and painting supplies from the sculpture studio to the art building on the other side of campus (why it was designed that way, she’ll never know — she thinks whichever builder or contractor did it had some sort of vendetta against art students). In a big, bold black font casted against a bright, borderline neon yellow background (seriously, it kind of hurt her eyes, actually), were the answers to her summer plans: COUNSELORS NEEDED FOR HAPPY CAMPERS SLEEPAWAY CAMP! EXPERIENCE WITH KIDS IS A MUST. $15/HOUR FROM JUNE TO AUGUST.
And yeah, maybe the only “experience” she had with children was babysitting her neighbor’s daughter when she was in high school, but that was apparently enough for Happy Campers. Because within two days of her interviewing with the owner, a sweet, older woman named Linda who’s been running the place for the past 30 years, she received word that she’d been hired.
From the end of the semester to the beginning of camp, she had about three weeks to learn everything she could about being a solid counselor. She assumed the basics — no cursing, keep an eye on them at all times, try her best not to lose her cool if one of them was particularly bratty — but did some research on the rest.
She wasn’t sure what age group she’d be assigned to, but Linda told her she’d find that information out at training — a three day-long educational overhaul where the counselors were the only ones at camp, learning about everything from lifeguarding to CPR to mental health awareness.
Happy Campers was located only about an hour and a half from her college apartment so it made more sense for her to depart from there instead of her hometown. On the drive up in her shitty Honda Accord (a navy 2008 model she affectionately named Edith), she tried her best to calm her nerves. She thought it was silly for her to be so anxious over surrounding herself with kids all summer, and a small part of her hoped she would get assigned to an older group — 5th or 6th grades would be ideal since they were sufficient enough not to be too clingy.
As the small university city slowly melted away, tall buildings and chain restaurants were replaced by sturdy oak trees and an abundance of greenery. When her drive had officially shimmied down to just 20 minutes left, she rolled down her window and lowered her music, allowing herself to inhale the fresh air. Even at her 45 mile per hour speed (5 below the speed limit, just in case some ticket-happy police cars were hiding out somewhere), she found a spark of hope in the clean, crispy air that infiltrated the interior of her car.
Maybe this summer was exactly what she needed.
Perhaps the warm, summer air got to Y/N’s head a bit too much.
The second she pulls into the faculty lot at Happy Campers, she’s inundated with people everywhere. Some are hugging excitedly, greeting one another after what she assumes has been a year away, while others are pulling their hefty duffles from their trunks and throwing them in heaps on the ground. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she tries to find a parking space to pull into, her eyes twinkling some as she spots one. She flicks her right blinker on, prepared to make the turn when an older, much shitter car than hers pulls through.
Her jaw immediately drops. Was this a joke? Some kind of first-time counselor hazing thing? Instantly, she rolls her window down and tries to get the driver’s attention, but from what she can see, he’s already busied himself with getting his things together and getting out of his car.
“Hey! Excuse me!” she calls out, waving her hands at him. When he slams his door shut and ambles in the direction of his trunk, a backpack slung on his right shoulder, she yells out louder this time, grabbing the attention of innocent bystanders. This time, she catches his attention and he furrows his eyebrows, shuffling over to Y/N’s car.
“Yeah?” he asks, almost as if he hasn’t even realized that he completely cut her off.
“That was my spot,” she says, pointing to where his car now resides. If she had to guess, it’s from the early 2000s — 2004 at best, she thinks. “And you took it.”
The curly haired brunette quickly turns to look at his car before whipping back around, “Was it reserved for you?”
“No, but I had my signal on and I was about to turn in—”
“Then it wasn’t your spot.” he replies, tightening his grasp around his backpack.
“I had my signal on—”
“Yes, I heard you the first time.” he huffs, his tone bored. Y/N’s eyebrows raise at his blase demeanor. “There’s another parking lot. You’ll be fine.”
Before she has a chance to fight back, he turns on his heel to head back to his car. She watches angrily as he pulls his suitcase out with minimal effort despite the fact that it looks like it’s stuffed to the brim. When he notices her still looking at him, he shoots her an angry glare, as if to say, can I help you?
Y/N breathes out angrily through her nose as she rolls her window back up. What a dick!
Harry tries his best not to be an asshole.
Really, he does! He thinks he does a decent job of walking around campus and attending his classes without being a complete and utter grump (although his friends do tease him about the scowl that manages to wiggle its way onto his face sometimes). He’s gotten better at participating in lecture-wide discussions without accidentally calling the previous person a stupid prick (the guy who received that one actually deserved it, after he claimed that feminism was a liberal farce in one of his gender studies classes).
However… the one thing that triggers that crabby, ill-tempered part of him more than anything else in the world is Happy Campers.
It’s not because he hates the place or anything of the sort. His parents didn’t send him away when he was 7, making him spend his summers in nature year after year while he yearned for the bustling city he’d been born in. It was actually the complete opposite. He’d had to beg his mum the first year he saw the posting for it in the halls of his elementary school, immediately thrilled by the promises on the yellow paper: Boating! Swimming! Archery! Campfires! Harry couldn’t think of a better way to spend the next two and a half months of his life!
At first, his parents assumed he’d let it go after a day or two. He’d never spent a weekend away from them, let alone an entire summer. And while his mum wasn’t proud of it, she knew her son lived in the shadow of his older sister. More likely than not, she’d just end up enrolling them both in the same soccer day camp like she did last summer, and the one before that.
Much to their surprise, though, Harry wouldn’t let up about Happy Campers. Every morning when he woke up, he asked if they had made a decision yet. When he got home from school that afternoon, he brought up the exciting activities they offered, listing off fun facts he’d Googled in the computer room about the benefits of being in nature. So when May finally tottled around and Harry was still talking about this magical sleepaway camp, they realized they had no choice but to get him a spot.
His first summer there was more fun than he ever could have imagined. He met kids his age from all over the country, spent his days learning new skills and swimming in the lake, and ended the evening with spooky stories and s’mores around a fire. Soon, a pattern began: His parents would all but drag him home at the end of the summer, he’d go to school for the year, and then begin counting down the days until the next session began. For years, Happy Campers was the only place Harry wanted to be.
When he eventually aged out of being a camper, Linda approached him about coming back as a counselor next year. He was 14 at the time and completely ecstatic — really, he couldn’t have said yes quicker, especially since things at home were getting tougher.
His parents were in the middle of an ugly separation, his sister was older and wanting nothing to do with him, and everything about school was confusing. From social status to crushes and grades, he wanted nothing more than to hide away at Happy Campers for as long as humanly possible. For each of his teenage years, he returned as a counselor, eager to forget about his home life and go back to the only things that made sense to him: Swimming in the lake, spending lengthy, sweaty days in the sun, and making sure these kids had unforgettable summers.
When he was at camp, nothing else mattered. He escaped from breakups, family fights, bad grades, and hard life decisions, using the site as a crutch to get through to the other side.
So it’s possible that he’s a bit… protective of his final year at Happy Campers.
After this summer, he’ll only have one semester left as a student in his university’s political science department. From there, he already has a job lined up at a politician’s office in their communication sector. But it also means that he’ll be working full-time, ergo… no more Happy Campers.
This place is his second home. He knows it’ll be difficult saying goodbye to it, but dammit if he’s not determined to have an incredible last few months as a counselor — yeah, maybe he’s a bit careless when it comes to acknowledging the newbies, who seem helpless, clueless, and all-around confused. But he’s not there for them. He’s here for himself, and the kids.
So, fuck the weak little new girl who couldn’t even snag her own parking spot in the faculty lot. She’ll probably be heading home before the first month anyway.
“Hello counselors, and welcome to Happy Campers!”
Harry has to admit that even in her old age, Linda still has the same jolly, feel-good attitude she did the first summer he attended.
And while he loves her — truly, he does, and he even called her up when he found out this year would be his last — he can’t help but slowly start to zone out as she launches into her annual speech about being a welcoming, safe, and (you guessed it) happy counselor.
Harry’s been certified and trained for just about every safety precaution imaginable.
Campfire safety tips? Yup.
Sun and heat protection? Obviously. (And he knows what to do in the event of sunburns — because there’s always a few — and, in the rare case, sun poisoning.)
Fire safety? Duh.
Lifeguarding? He’s been trained since he was 15 and does weekly laps at his school’s indoor pool.
Emergency procedures, food service, behavior management techniques, appropriate camper and staff behavior, and Happy Camper-specific regulations for supervision? God, he could recite them in all his sleep.
He can feel the mood of the room gradually begin to slump as Linda continues droning on about the importance of memorizing the handbook. Really, all anyone cares about right now is receiving their camper assignments. It’s the one mystery Linda tries to keep until the first day of training. Supposedly, placements are done at random, but Harry’s received his favorite group every year: 5th grade boys. They’re competent enough to take care of themselves (that means they know how to shower, go to the bathroom, and change their clothes without Harry’s assistance), but they’re a ton of fun, too. It’s the perfect age so he knows it’s a given that Linda assigned him to the same age as usual, especially since it’s his last time.
The room noticeably perks up when Linda announces that she’ll be unveiling assignments before they break for lunch. He can feel the nerves radiating off of most of the counselors — he would be anxious, too, if he didn’t know who he was spending his summer with. He can’t think of a worse fate than being lumped in with a newbie or getting one of the younger groups — ugh. Last summer, Pauli, one of his counselor friends, got 3rd grade boys, which ended up being a mess of homesickness and actual sickness from lack of self-control at ice cream sundae night.
Harry’s sitting in his uncomfortable fold-up chair, arms folded over his eat your honey tee-shirt as he waits for Linda to finish up so he can demolish a lackluster sandwich in the mess hall. He pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, then jiggles his leg, then crosses his ankles. He’s bored, and tired, and hungry, and—
“2nd grade boys, Harry Styles,” Linda booms over the microphone, “2nd grade girls, Y/N Y/L/N.”
What?
This has to be a prank. Linda’s a lighthearted woman and, yeah, maybe he’s hardly seen her joke around about camp-related activities in the 16 years he’s known her, but maybe she decided to start now.
Right?
But then she claps her hands and announces that their lunch break has officially begun, and Harry’s up and out of his chair faster than you can even say second grade. Long, hurried strides take him in the direction of his boss, his eye borderline twitching at the thought of dealing with little kids instead of his usual fifth graders.
“Linda!” he calls out, attempting to grab her attention over the hasty sounds of everyone leaving the room.
“Oh, hi Harry!” she grins, turning to face him, “Lovely to see you again. Are you excited for the summer?”
“Um, yeah,” he rushes out as he lifts a hand to tug at the roots of his hair. “Quick question though, why am I paired with—”
“Y/N!” The shrill call of Linda’s voice cuts Harry off and he grits his teeth. He glances to his side to see the girl from the parking lot — the one who all but bit his head off for taking a free parking spot. He resists the urge to roll his eyes and redirects his attention to the older woman standing in front of them.
“Linda, I really need to talk to you—”
“Harry, this is Y/N, your fellow counselor for the second graders,” Linda grins as she slings an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. The girl blinks, her eyes narrowing as she recognizes Harry. It’s clear that she remembers him too, so she straightens her posture some and ignores him. “Y/N is new to our counseling program but I think you two will get along great!”
“That’s great, Linda, but I really just need a second with you—”
“I do, too,” Y/N pipes up from beside him and it makes Harry’s jaw clench even tighter. “I think I mentioned in our interview that I’m not the most comfortable with younger kids—”
“Yeah, and I always have 5th grade boys, so I’m not really sure what’s—”
Linda claps her hands loudly, bringing both of their complaints to an immediate stop. When they both part their lips, jaws slightly ajar, she smiles gently.
“Harry, I know this probably isn’t what you were expecting, but it’s your last year and I figured it would be good to change things up,” she says. He goes to reply, but she places an open palm up, wordlessly signaling to let her finish talking. “And Y/N, I know you requested an older group. But Harry’s one of our most experienced counselors, so I know it won’t be too much of an issue if you were paired up together.”
They both stand there silently.
“Unfortunately, assignments are final. If you have an issue with it, you’re welcome to leave. There is a lengthy waitlist of people who weren’t hired.”
When neither of them respond, both slightly surprised by Linda’s sudden strike of authority, she grins.
“Good, then! I’m looking forward to seeing you two work together this summer,” she pats each of them on the shoulder, sending them an enthusiastic smile. “Now hurry up and get to the mess hall for lunch! We have an afternoon packed with trainings!”
The sound of Linda’s Teva sandals scurrying away is the only thing that permeates the awkward silence between the two. A moment later, when Y/N has finally somewhat awoken from her brief rendezvous with the five stages of grief, she mutters the same thing that’s on Harry’s mind: “Fuck me.”
The first two days of training are hopelessly boring.
Y/N spends every second of her day in some sort of seminar, educational meeting, or training. When she’s not listening (or pretending to, anyway — she thinks she’ll be able to manage a decent job at “conflict resolution” between seven year olds), she’s doing hands-on certifications. She has to prove that she knows how to do CPR, the Heimleich, administer EPIPENS, allergy shots, and asthma pumps, and, maybe worst of all, pull a 45-pound mannequin out of the lake. (It’s in case one of the campers accidentally drowns or flounders in the water, but she hates the fact that the dummy they’re using looks like it’s likely from the 1980s, far too worn out to be using in 2024.)
Every night, Y/N hits the paper thin mattress in her cabin like she hasn’t slept in years. She barely has enough energy to shower and brush her hair before her eyelids are fluttering closed. She hasn’t even met her roommate yet, and the only reason why she knows she has one is because all of her things are neatly organized in the main room and bathroom.
On day three of counseling training (and the day before camp officially begins), Linda announces that they’re to spend the next few hours getting to know their co-counselor and planning activities for their groups. The girls and boys aren’t expected to do everything together but there’s a certain level of socialization expected, especially on rainy days when regular outdoor routines are washed out.
Y/N’s torn — she’s glad she doesn’t have to be on her feet all day, going between laborious certifications to boring meetings, but she definitely doesn’t want to spend any extra time with Harry. Since learning that they were lumped together for the summer, she’d seen him around, but neither of them made any attempt at conversation. She passed by him in the mess hall every meal, saw him at lifeguard training, and sat two rows behind him at the mental health and wellness seminar, but they ignored one another as if nothing had occurred on the first day.
Truthfully, that was fine and dandy for Y/N. She knows they don’t have to be friends or even acquaintances. Co-existence was the primary goal, but she was unsure if that was possible when he seemed to be a total and right dick.
That morning, after Linda’s daily morning announcements, she instructs all the counselors to find their partner and get to know one another. Y/N nibbles on her bottom lip as she searches the room for him, trying to find the head of brown curls (it was the one identifying factor she remembered about him, besides having a British accent). Of course, he ends up finding her first because she chose today of all days to cover his hair with a navy baseball cap. He’s already scowling at her before she even says anything and she holds in a sigh as he plops down next to her.
“Listen, I don’t really want to spend the entire summer fighting with you—”
“Who said anything about fighting?” Harry asks, wrinkling his nose in her direction. Y/N’s eyebrow involuntarily quirks, clearly confused by his response. “What makes you think I care to even fight with you?”
“...Okay,” Y/N replies slowly, “That’s fine, I’m just saying we should try to coexist for the sake of the kids.”
“Right.” he chuckles humorlessly, lifting his cup of coffee to his mouth. The insulated mug looks helplessly small in his large hand and she flits her eyes back to his face. “You’re new, right?”
She blinks. “Yes.”
“I’ve been coming here since I was in second grade. For years, I was the only person who got to counsel the fifth grade boys but for whatever reason, Linda decided she wanted to stick me with the youngest group. That’s whatever—”
“Well, she said it was because she wanted to shake things up—”
Harry sends a harsh look her way. “I’m not finished,” he says, and Y/N’s mouth clamps shut. “The whole second grade thing would be way more chill if I wasn’t stuck with a new counselor who hasn't spent a day in her life outside of the city, but I’m not. For whatever ungodly reason, Linda assigned us together, and I’m pissed. Alright?”
Despite the frustration and anger building in Y/N’s chest, she swallows it down. Instead she takes a page out of the conflict resolution training they had yesterday (maybe it was useful) and nods her head.
“I understand that, Harry. You’re allowed to be pissed. But you have to understand, I didn’t do anything wrong here.”
He snorts, “You shouldn’t have signed up to be here. That’s what you did wrong.”
Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead.
“So because I wanted a summer job, I’m a bad person? Have you ever considered that you’re just being a prissy little bitch because you didn’t get your way?”
“I don’t really give a shit what you think,” Harry replies, shrugging his shoulders, “Because this is my summer. So whether you like it or not, we’re playing by my rules.”
“Yeah, okay,” Y/N guffaws. She stands up from her metal chair, deciding she’s finished with this conversation for now. She won’t allow Harry to demean her life decisions just because he’s unhappy with where he got placed. “It’s fucking summer camp, asshole. Lighten up.”
Y/N spends the remainder of her day brainstorming ways to entertain second graders.
She doesn’t really care if Harry doesn’t want to cooperate, or even coexist with her. If he wants to be immature, fine! If he wants to blame her for all the things that are already going wrong with his summer, fine! She tried her best to negotiate with him and, quite frankly, it’s not on her to settle a grown man’s temper.
At a certain point, when the anger and annoyance and frustration has cooled down some, she finds it a little relaxing. She sits by the lake and allows herself to dig her toes in the cool sand. Yesterday, she’d spent the better part of her afternoon absolutely baking beneath the bright sun, listening to one of the higher-ups talk about swimming safety. Today was far more peaceful, even with the little worms of anxiety slowly beginning to wiggle their way into her brain. As she jotted down a list of activity ideas for their kids, she tried not to get too nervous about their arrival tomorrow.
She doesn’t have too much time to worry, though, since when she makes her way back to her cabin that evening, she finally meets her bunkmate, a sweet girl named Zara. It’s her third summer returning as a counselor so she’s far more acquainted with everything than Y/N is, and she pledges to help her out as much as she can. It relaxes her nerves even more as she climbs into the tiny shower to wash off the sun and sweat from her body before she heads to bed for the night. At home, she’s always been the type to stay up far too late, but between the hazy sunrays and jampacked days, she’s been finding herself way more tired than usual.
When Y/N finishes her shower with her hair brushed, moisturizer applied, and pajamas on (which was really more of a pair of sleep shorts and a ratty tee-shirt from her high school’s club volleyball team), Zara flashes her an excited grin.
“Harry came by,” she says before Y/N’s even made it to her bed, “He was looking for you.”
Y/N tries not to roll her eyes at the mention of his name. She didn’t want to say anything mean in case they were camp buddies, or whatever the fuck it was called, but she had to admit, she’d think just a bit lower of Zara if she was friends with Harry.
“We’re both working with the second graders this year. He’s pissed so we didn’t do any planning today.” she replies, running a hand through her damp hair as she sits on the edge of the flimsy mattress.
“God, you’re so lucky. He’s so hot, isn’t he?”
She resists the urge to gag, “I mean, maybe he would be if he hadn’t been a total dick to me earlier.”
“I’d ignore that if it meant I got to look at him all day,” Zara giggles, grabbing a folded up piece of paper from the edge of her neatly made bed, “Anyway, he dropped this off for you. Chances are it’s a steamy love note?”
“Slim to none.” Y/N mutters as she accepts the paper from her roommate. She nestles beneath the scratchy covers and flips it open, her eyes immediately meeting a sheet full of messy handwriting.
-DIY paper kites
-painting
-indoor scavenger hunt
-talent show
-charades
-friendship bracelet making
-tie dye
-rock painting
Sorry for being shitty today. I’ll try to be better. No promises.
-H
She waits until Zara’s snoring softly before she folds the paper back up and stuffs it into the spine of her journal, right where she wrote down her list of activity ideas.
On the first official day of camp, Y/N quickly learns a few things.
One: Second grade girls aren’t as scary as she had anticipated. They’re actually quite sweet, if not a bit nervous and apprehensive. Y/N understands that — in fact, she’s felt the same way since arriving at camp a few days ago, so she finds herself bonding with the small group of girls more than she thought she would.
Two: Even if Harry says he’ll try better, he’s probably lying.
Now, she hadn’t expected him to do a complete 360 and show up to her cabin at 6 a.m. with an apology coffee and muffin. But it would have been nice if he did as much as acknowledge her existence, especially in front of the kids!
That morning, Y/N even wakes up with slightly high hopes as she spends her first few hours of consciousness helping her campers get acclimated to their new lifestyle. But that afternoon, when the girls and boys groups get together for quick introductions and bonding, Harry doesn’t even care to introduce her. Instead, he stands there, effortlessly capturing the attention of every last one of their kids, and just… skips over Y/N!
He skips over her!
Y/N has to clear her throat and step forward, forcing a friendly grin onto her face like she isn’t prepared to rip Harry a new one as soon as they bring their group to dinner.
“And I’m Y/N! My second grade girls know I’ll be taking care of them this summer, but I’ll be around to help Harry with the boys, too,” she says.
“Right, yeah—”
“I can’t wait to get to know each of you this summer,” Y/N continues on. Truthfully, she hadn’t planned to proceed with some type of spiel, but she’s in the mood to be spiteful. How couldn’t she, when Harry refuses to even recognize the fact that she’s just as important? “My door is always open and I’m so excited to have a wonderful few months with you.”
The kids have zoned out by now with their blank, moony gazes. Swallowing awkwardly, she takes a step back as Harry sends her a dirty look.
“You done, then?” he mutters.
Blinking, Y/N nods curtly.
“Great,” he mumbles, “Well, I think it’s been a long day for everyone, so why don’t we head to the mess hall for dinner? Tonight, we have a camp-wide bonfire and s’mores on the agenda so don’t eat too much!”
Thankfully, the kids didn’t notice the tension between Harry and Y/N, and excitedly get up from their spots on the ground to follow them to their next meal. Already, Y/N notices that the boys are attached to Harry, asking him a million questions about anything and everything. She hears thrilled chatter from tiny, high-pitched voices as she silently walks next to her own campers.
“Harry, why do you talk funny?” (He briefly explains that he was born in London, which he refers to as a far away place in a country called the United Kingdom.)
“How old are you?” (He’s 22, just a year older than Y/N.)
“Do you have any sisters? I have one at home and she’s so annoying!” (He has one and she’s in London.)
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
For some reason, that one makes Y/N listen just a little bit harder. She’s not sure why — maybe it’s because he’s been so persistently rude to her that she simply can’t imagine any girl willingly committing herself to him. She’s not stupid enough to deny the fact that Harry is attractive in the most conventional way, with his broad shoulders, curly hair, and ridiculously tattooed body, but she didn’t think that was enough of a justification to put up with his bullshit.
Harry chuckles at the question that comes from a boy with blonde hair and squinty eyes, hidden behind a thick pair of glasses.
“No,” he answers, shaking his head as he pulls open the door for the mess hall, “No girlfriend for me. Besides, why would I need one when I have all of you to keep me entertained for the summer?”
Y/N swallows tightly at that.
The first full week of camp is exhausting.
Every day, Y/N has an alarm set for 7 a.m. She showers, brushes her teeth, and does something with her hair so it’s not sticking to her sweaty neck all day. She pulls one of her four camp tee-shirts on (they all have huge, blocky lettering on the back that reads COUNSELOR), a pair of shorts, and the only pair of comfortable sneakers she owns. (She doesn’t know how Harry walks around in his dirty white Vans day in and day out. She owns a pair herself and they have minimal support, so it further annoys her that he gets to wear cute shoes while she’s stuck in a pair of running shoes.)
From there, she’ll usually have a short and sweet conversation with Zara, who’s just as tired from taking care of her fourth grade girls. After that, she ambles across the campsite over to her group to make sure they’re all awake and getting ready for breakfast. They usually all are, with the exception of Livvy, who is particularly awful at waking up in the morning. She always has a grumpy look on her face as Y/N leads them to the mess hall for their first meal and, for some reason, it always makes her laugh to herself.
Y/N accompanies the girls while they eat, making sure to get some sustenance in her stomach as well. She typically opts for some fruit and a bagel or toast, accompanied by the shitty watery coffee from the machine in the corner. After breakfast, Y/N plucks the schedule from the bulletin board outside the mess hall (Linda writes out a new one every day, ensuring that every group is able to try out different activities). Mornings are usually a variation of sports, then lunch, and then more relaxed activities, like ceramics or jewelry making. The second graders always have swimming at 3 p.m., which would maybe be a nice way to decompress after a hot, muggy day in the sun, if not for having to be around Harry.
She’s figured out that there’s two variations of Harry: On good days, he’ll ignore her. He’ll grab a chair, stick it in the sand, and scroll on his phone until the 5 p.m. dinner bell rings. On bad days (which usually means one of his campers gave him a hard time), he’ll torture her. He’ll critique every aspect of her approach to interacting with the kids and tell her what she’s doing wrong. (Tuesday, for instance, was a bad day. Apparently, Franklin had a total freak out about not wanting to play soccer that morning and decided to be Harry’s worst nightmare all day long, screeching about how much he hated camp. As a result, Harry showed up to swimming and spent an entire hour critizing Y/N: “You need to bring more snacks with you during the day. What if one of them gets woozy during sports? And you better carry at least three bottles of sunscreen or I swear to god, I’ll report you to Linda. That would be a stupid rookie move.”)
The whole thing is giving her emotional whiplash and is just as exhausting as being a counselor to kids all day. If Linda hadn’t had such a poor response to the two of them wanting to switch at the beginning of training, she would already be in her office and pleading her case. So when Friday rolls around and she can just tell that Harry’s had a bad day based on the dim sunglasses covering his eyes, she decides she’s not going to put up with it anymore — not for a single second longer.
She’s unsurprised when, as she’s keeping an eye on her girls playing Mermaids in the shallow end of the lake (a quintessential summer swimming game, she thinks), Harry plops down in his usual chair with a scowl on his face. Her eye roll is hidden behind her own pair of shades, and she attempts to ignore the anger radiating off of him as she digs her toes in the sand. Again — this whole situation has the potential to be relaxing. All she’s missing is… well, Harry leaving.
“Livvy told Ethan that you come into their bunk every morning to wake her up,” he says, lifting his metal reusable water bottle to his mouth, “You really shouldn’t do that. She needs to learn how to get up on her own.”
“Mind your business, Harry.” she replies, short and curt. She inhales through her nose as a breeze passes through the manmade beach.
“That is my business.”
“It’s really not,” Y/N snaps, whipping around to face him. She tears her sunglasses off her face so he can see the red hot anger burning in her eyes. “And I’m so sick of you being rude to me every single day. I’m not a punching bag, Harry, I’m a human being. If you don’t like your situation, fine, but that’s not my problem. So keep your shit to yourself for the rest of the summer, alright?”
She scuttles up from her spot, grabbing her sneakers and towel before marching halfway across the beach to where the girls are playing. Fury is still raging through her as she plops down at the shoreline with a harsh exhale. She allows the rolling tide to wash over her feet and tries to focus on the cold water instead of the insufferable man still sitting there dumbly.
“Y/N?”
Her head rises when she hears the small voice of one her campers. It comes from Alison, a sweet, kind girl with unruly ginger locks and a smattering of freckles over her face.
“No! Don’t ask her, she’ll tell on us.” Lucy urges from beside her, a frustrated pout on her lips.
“She said we could always come to her,” Alison whispers loudly. Y/N’s heartbeat increases just a tad, worried that something’s gone wrong right under her nose. “Y/N, I have a question, and I was wondering if you could answer it.”
Y/N clears her throat, “Well, I promise I won’t tell anyone about it as long as it’s nothing too serious… you guys know I have to, like, report if an adult’s being inappropriate or something, though, right?”
“Yeah. Stranger danger,” Claire nods matter-of-factly, “My mom gave me a talk before I came here. No letting people touch you an’ stuff.”
“That’s right,” Y/N agrees with a small smile. “Is it anything like that, Alison?”
She shakes her head.
“Okay, so yeah. It can be our little secret then.”
Despite the persistent frown on Lucy’s face, Alison nods.
“Okay… well, we were wondering… is it true that when a boy is mean to you, it’s ‘cos he likes you?”
Y/N purses her lips. “Um… I mean, some people say that. I don’t necessarily know if it’s true, though.”
“Has it happened to you?” Claire asks hopefully.
“Has a boy been mean to me because he likes me?”
The three girls nod enthusiastically.
She thinks back for a moment — she’s only been in one real relationship before, followed by a series of flings with lackluster people that haven’t always been the best. She doesn’t think they were mean to her because they were attracted to her, though. It was probably because she failed to have a backbone in their situationships.
“No,” she finally answers with a shake of her head, “No, and if someone likes you, they’ll care about showing it. They’ll do nice things and compliment you and… and they won’t make you wonder all the time.”
Each girl looks just as confused and lost as Y/N feels.
“...And we shouldn’t be worrying about boys this summer anyway,” she quickly tacks on, attempting to save the conversation, “Girls rule. Right?”
When grins break out on their faces, she’s thankful that second graders aren’t as emotionally aware as adults.
For the next two weeks, things go as smoothly as expected.
Y/N is relieved that, for once, Harry heeds her advice. They barely speak with the exception of deciding on an activity to do with the kids, and even then it’s as short and succinct as humanly possible:
“Friendship bracelet making?”
“Sure.”
In their brief moments of downtime, Y/N sticks to hanging around Zara and her friends Sarah and Mitch. They’re all very nice — she and Zara have a lot in common, and Sarah and Mitch have been working as counselors for the past two summers. They’re both friendly with Harry, and Y/N is shocked (but not entirely surprised) to find out that he isn’t a total dick with everyone, just with her. Sarah’s somewhat puzzled upon finding out that he’s been giving her a hard time in just about everything, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth when Y/N explains how they ended up at this point.
“He’s fairly protective of this place,” Sarah replies. Her tone is soft and soothing so it’s incredibly difficult to argue with her on any line of defense against him, even if she’s not intentionally doing so. “He shouldn’t be so mean to you, but I think this is his safe haven. Mitch said that he’s been going through some stuff and… well, I’m sorry you don’t get to experience the nice version of him.”
So am I, Y/N thinks to herself.
It’s what she’s ruminating on as she sits in the bleachers, watching her girls play soccer. (Well, half of them are playing soccer. The other half are in a circle, making lanyard keychains, and giggling about Henry Moore, a boy in the fifth grade group that apparently every girl has a crush on. It makes Y/N’s heart warm and her chest concave slightly; to watch girlhood in its purest form with the hopes that no one ever hurts them.)
She wonders when things got this way. When fun, gleeful crushes that made her feel like a shaken can of soda, fizzy and lightheaded, faded away and were replaced with mean guys who had no reason to despise her. She swallows the lump in her throat that formed without her permission and digs her sneakered heel into the gravel below the bleachers.
When she hears the familiar sound of rambunctious boys approaching, she quickly tucks her sunglasses behind her ears, wary of the watery eyes behind them. She sees Harry, basketball in hand, in his usual camp garb — athletic shorts and some variation of a borderline inappropriate graphic tee-shirt; this one has the words I like to watch scrawled across the chest. Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. She’s sure Linda would hand his ass to him if she saw him wearing that. Really, she wishes she would.
The groups intermingle effortlessly. That was one thing she was thankful for — that most of their campers got along and it was easy to take a break when they ended their days doing whatever activity together. The soccer game proceeds, now bigger with formed teams, while a few of the other boys join the lanyard circle. Wordlessly, Harry climbs up on the bleachers Y/N’s currently perched on, taking a seat two benches above her.
It’s their usual routine of silence and she can probably predict what he’s doing. Right now, he’s probably shifted his black sunglasses from the bridge of his nose up to his wavy brown hair and squinting at his phone. He has a pink phone case, and the device always manages to look stupidly small in his hand while he uses his oversized thumb to scroll through whatever social media app has his attention.
Y/N holds in a sigh, leaning her head to the side and pressing her ear against her shoulder. She allows her eyes to flutter shut for a few brief moments, inhaling through her nose and listening to the kids’ high-pitched chatter. It’s only when she feels the presence of someone beside her that she opens her eyes, eyebrows thick with worry when she sees Micky, one of Harry’s campers, standing in front of them.
“What’s up, Mick?” Harry asks from above her. She resists the urge to scowl — she could have handled it without him, and she hopes that whatever he needs, it’s a ridiculous request that he’ll have to handle and—
“I miss my mom.”
Y/N’s eyes widen when Micky’s eyes suddenly flood with tears. Quickly, she pushes her sunglasses back into her hair, her lips instantly parting into a sympathetic frown.
“Micky,” she coos, her heart melting at the sight in front of her, “It’s okay. It’s okay to miss your mom, I know how you feel.”
He’s a mess of tears and snot, his little hand reaching up to knuckle at his bloodshot eyes. Y/N looks up at Harry, who seems just as worried and equally lost. He shuffles down to the same bench Y/N sits at so he’s eye level with him and presses a gentle hand to his shoulder.
“C’mon, you gotta breathe, Mick,” he encourages, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. He only continues in his tearful fit, not listening to a word either one of the counselors say. Helpless, Harry turns to Y/N, his eyes encompassing all the nerves running through each of them.
“Mick, you have to listen to Harry,” Y/N says, reaching out to grab his hand. She squeezes it in an effort to gain his attention. “Breathe, sweetheart. Look at Harry. He’s gonna help you breathe, okay?”
Thankfully, Micky’s eyes bat open. Harry’s taking slow, deep inhales and exhales and he does the same, though his are shuttered with weepy quivers.
“You’re doing so good,” Y/N smiles, giving his hand another squeeze. “There you go, just keep following Harry.”
Eventually, his tears stop some and his breathing regulates itself. Harry guides him onto the bench, wiggling his smaller form between his and Y/N’s.
“It’s totally normal to miss your mum,” Harry says, leaning his elbows back. “But think about all the awesome times you’ve had here so far. You’ve been absolutely killing it at Four Square and you’re a master at ceramics. She’s gonna be so pumped when she sees that cup you made.”
“I’ve never been away from her for this long.” Micky peeps out in a small voice. Y/N swallows, her heart cracking just a tiny bit more.
“Micky, you wanna know a secret?” she asks. Harry and Micky both turn to her and she holds in a snort at the former’s intrigued facial expression. “This is the longest I’ve been away from my parents, too.”
“Really?”
“Mhm,” she nods, “And I miss them so much. But I’m having a really good summer here. Are you?”
Micky thinks for a moment. A second later, he nods.
“What’s been your favorite part?”
“I really like swimming,” he replies. Y/N grins. “But I like you and Harry more. You guys are my favorite.”
Her eyebrows raise involuntarily and Harry coughs into his hand.
“You’re just like my big sister and her boyfriend,” he continues. Y/N’s eyes dart over to Harry, who looks like he wants to run for the hills. “They’re always really nice to me. And sometimes they fight and that makes my sister grumpy. But they always come back together. And even if they’re mad at each other, they never stop being nice to me.”
“Well, that sounds really nice, Mick—”
“And one time, he was dropping my sister off at home and I looked outside my window ‘cos I had a present for him but the windows in his car were all foggy and I don’t really know why but—”
“Harry, didn’t Linda say that there were orange popsicles at the nurse’s cabin today?” Y/N asks through a squeaky voice. He blinks and nods quickly, excitedly wagging his finger at her in agreement.
“Yes! She did!” he exclaims, popping up from his seat, “Micky, do you want an orange popsicle? Maybe Y/N can take you?”
“Oh yeah, those are my favorite!”
Y/N is eager and happy to escape this terribly awkward moment.
Y/N doesn’t see Harry for the rest of the afternoon.
That’s fine with her, since she thinks she’s still blushing from Micky’s little Peeping Tom recollection. She brought him to the dining hall after he ate his popsicle and gave his mom a call and, by then, he was back to normal, excited to eat dinner alongside his fellow campers. Y/N picked at a lackluster meal of beef tacos, though she was happy to listen to Zara, Sarah, and Mitch chatter on about… well, whatever it was they were talking about.
After dinner, there’s a bonfire, and then it’s lights out. She’s exhausted by the time she gets her girls back to their cabin, ensuring that they’re all tucked in for a restful night. She closes their door with a depleted sigh, listening for the quiet click of the hinge before she jogs down the stairs and starts her walk back to her own dwelling.
Only, she nearly jumps five feet in the air when Harry’s standing there.
“Fucking Christ!” she whispers as her heart slams against her ribcage, “Is there a reason you’re standing there like a fucking creep? Or are you taking a page out of Micky’s weird little sneaky book?”
Harry snorts at that before shaking his head. “Sorry. I just put the boys to bed and I saw you were leaving. I wasn’t being creepy, I promise.”
“That’s something a creep would say.”
“I realize that,” he replies, digging his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts, “But I mean it. I’m nowhere near as creepy as Micky.”
“Shut up,” she mutters, trying to wipe the smile off her face from his joke. “He didn’t know any better.”
“I know. I’m just kidding.”
They stand there across from one another for another beat or two before he juts his thumb in the direction of the counselor cabins.
“Can I walk you back to yours?”
Y/N swallows. And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, she says, “okay.”
At first, it’s silent. The only sound is the gravel crunching beneath their shoes as Y/N tucks her arms over her chest, goosebumps forming over her skin from the night chill. Finally, Harry ventures a glance at her.
“I want to apologize,” he says, and at first, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating. “I’ve been really awful to you and… I shouldn’t have been.”
A snarky response sneaks past her lips before she has a chance to take it back: “Did you just realize that?”
“No,” Harry admits. She’s surprised he doesn’t reply with something equally as sarcastic. “I realized it a few weeks ago, when you yelled at me at the lake. I didn’t realize how shitty I was being to you but… then Sarah talked to me and asked why I was being this way with you, and I didn’t even have a good answer for her because you’ve been so good with the kids and you clearly do care about them and giving them a good summer. And I just felt like such a fucking idiot.”
Y/N hums non-committedly.
“And then today with Micky, it just reminded me a lot of myself when I used to come here as a camper. This was my safe place for many, many years. There’s a small part of me that thinks it still is. I used to have panic attacks midway through the summer when I would think about life back home and the bullshit I was escaping.”
She swallows. A pit forms at the bottom of her stomach when she thinks about a young Harry having the same reaction as Micky did today.
“And I don’t know, I just thought about… how if I had you as a counselor, I would feel really comfortable and happy,” he continues, “And… minus the weird shit Micky said, I was happy to hear that he likes us together.”
Her throat dries a bit at that but she forces herself to swallow as he looks at her for a response.
“Thank you,” she finally mumbles out. They’re stopped at the side of her cabin now, and she desperately hopes that Zara is fast asleep and can’t hear an inkling of their conversation. “I appreciate that. I wish we hadn’t… y’know, gotten off on such a rocky start, but… you are really good with the kids. And I think that we do work well together, even if we’re barely speaking to one another.”
He smirks at that before shaking his head, his gaze falling to the grassy plane beneath them.
“It was all very immature of me and for that, I really am so sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s okay,” she murmurs, leaning back against the wood siding of the lodge, “Water under the bridge, yeah?”
Harry looks back up, his eyes finding hers. With his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip, he nods.
“Water under the bridge,” he agrees.
And she can’t figure out why, but the second their gaze locks, her world slows just a bit. Her chest stalls, her breathing hitches in her throat, and… has Harry always looked this good?
“Y/N,” he rasps out lowly. Her eyes flutter down to his neck, where his throat bobs beneath a swallow. Quickly, she blinks, her eyelashes flittering when she looks back up at his face.
“Hm?” she asks softly.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles, inching towards her slowly.
“Like what?”
He breathes out a quiet laugh. “Like you wanna kiss me.”
She shrugs and he reaches out, gentle and tentative, his fingertips finding her chin. She allows his touch as he strokes over her skin, careful not to make any sudden movements as if she’ll scare him away somehow.
“Do you wanna kiss me?” he presses, his palm cupping her cheek. His hand is warm and her face is cool, and it feels so, so good.
“Do you wanna kiss me?” she repeats, eager to turn the question around.
He smirks. Lopsided and playful.
“Asked you first.”
“You’re acting like the kids we’re responsible for,” she murmurs, nuzzling tenderly into his hold. “By the way, did you hear Henry Moore kissed Crystal Baker? The girls are devastated.”
Harry chuckles, low and sweet, before shaking his head. Butterflies swarm her stomach at the crinkles that form at his eyes and she bites her lip.
“Sounds like we’ll have to have a feelings circle tomorrow,” he says. “But right now, you’re the only thing I care about.”
Y/N hums, eyelashes fluttering at his breath ghosts over her lips. She doesn’t know when he got this close, but she also doesn’t know how she existed without having him near all this time. His other hand finds her hip, giving it a small squeeze. The fabric of her tee-shirt bunches in his grip and she resists the need to shudder.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his towering form feeling as though it’s all-encompassing now. She thinks that if it were up to her, she would allow him to lay all his weight on her.
Her brain is foggy and fizzy now, but she’s conscious enough to nod, a short affirmation, before he ducks forward to connect their lips. His lips are soft and plushy and she’s happy to kiss him back, especially since he tastes like the raspberry popsicle he ate at the bonfire. She shivers when he moves his hands up to the siding of the cabin, caging her in so she’s completely pinned against him. She’s neither particularly submissive nor dominant in the bedroom — a qualified switch is what Zara called her — but she’s eager to have her hands on him, one palm flush against his chest while the other presses against his cheek. The stubble of his facial hair scratches against her skin but she doesn’t care.
The kiss ends far too quickly for her, but when they part, noses nudging against one another, they’re both breathless with swollen lips. It makes Harry chuckle softly and he ducks down once more for a peck.
“Think you’re a bit insatiable,” he mumbles. “Pretty sure you would’ve kept going for hours if I didn’t stop you.”
“Probably.”
He laughs, quiet and soft, at her unashamed response. “That’s fine. Good, actually. I think I could live with that.”
“‘M sure you could.” she replies, a smirk edging at her lips.
“You’re not gonna go running off into the night now, are you?”
This time, she laughs, shaking her head.
“No. I’ll be here in the morning, bright and early.”
He smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Henry Moore feelings circle at 9 am sharp?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
When Harry sends her off to her cabin with a pat on the bum and a kiss to the cheek, she has to bite her lip from grinning too hard.
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