Another article submitted to be published, and you can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Freelance political journalism is fine - it's what you're good at and what you enjoy, but in amongst the absolute carnage that is Brexit, hundreds of publications and newspapers are after pieces reporting on it, and you are just one of many to spit them out like a well-oiled machine.
You recline in your chair as you release a long breath, rolling your head back for a moment to stare at the white ceiling above you. You'd sent out five articles this week about one thing or another, and you feel your head might explode if you do any more.
You need a drink. A stiff one.
Shutting down your computer and removing your glasses from your nose, you stand and shuffle through to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. Your phone begins to ring in your cardigan pocket, and you grin at the name appearing on the screen.
"Ah, my absentee housemate! What can I do you for?" You ask teasingly, taking a sip from your glass and surrendering to the large sofa in your tiny living room.
"I know I said I'd be back soon but something came up!" Sarah gushes, sounding a little embarrassed at herself.
You chuckle at your friend, reaching for the remote for your oversized TV. "It's fine, are you making a return ever?"
"Yes!" Sarah giggles, sounding a little breathless. "Tomorrow actually, and I think I've found someone to occupy the spare room."
"Oh, amazing!"
The third bedroom in your house has been left empty for months since you're too far out of the city to rent it to anyone who can't make the commute to Bath or work from home. It's been burning a hole in your pocket, and you're lucky that Sarah still pays her cut even when she goes away. "Who are they and how long for?"
There's an awkward pause on Sarah's end as a hushed conversation continues. "Well it's an indefinite amount of time... but at least three months."
"I can work with that..." You nod slowly, pursing your lips whilst struggling to turn the TV on. The batteries in the remote need changing and you're just too lazy to do anything about it. "So who is it? Anyone I know?"
Sarah clears her throat and sighs. "It's Harry."
¬
You don't dislike Harry. He's exactly who you'd expect him to be; polite, charming, lovely smile and infectious personality. You'd got on well to start off with, but then again you've only met him a handful of times, and each time seemed to get that bit more awkward. And something about him winds you up. The way he entered a room and everyone seemed to stop what they were doing just to look at him. Like, yeah he's Harry Styles, but does that mean you're suddenly incapable of doing anything at all?
Sarah had been living with you for over a year when she got recruited into Harry's band. It was exciting for both of you since you're fans of his music and One Direction, but it left you a little lonely. You knew you were being a little selfish about it, but Sarah is your best friend and housemate, and all too often now you find yourself without either. There was no doubt in your mind that she'd move out soon to move in with Mitch, and probably halfway across the globe.
Now Harry is occupying the tiny vacant room in the house for at least three months for an unknown reason. Well, unknown to you, anyway. And he's due to arrive with Sarah and Mitch any second now, and you only worry that the room is just too small for a well-travelled man such as Harry. Perhaps it would be alright? You've cleaned the small space three times over just to make sure the room was in good condition, even for a famous star. You're certainly not embarrassed at its state, but you just worried it might be a little bit on the boxy side...
You've been a good landlady (sort-of landlady...) and gone out and bought fresh linens and towels for him so he wouldn't have to suffer using your old ratty sheets, you've bought extra drawers and shelves just in case he does bring too much crap with him (which is probably likely). You've also left one of those fancy reed diffusers you get in posh places, just to make sure the room smells nice.
As you stare into the small room at the front of your house from the doorway, you hear the hum of a car engine pull down the driveway and cut out, soon followed by three door slams. You hurry to the front window and peer out to see the three of them littered around Harry's Range Rover, pulling things out. You mentally shake yourself for your nerves and skip downstairs to open the front door and greet them.
"Hey!" Sarah shouts with a wide grin, running to meet you and take you into a tight hug. "Missed you!"
You giggle as you squeeze your friend back. "Missed you, too! Been a bit lonely out here on me own, you know." You joke, pulling back to grin at her.
"Self inflicted, that." Sarah nods her head at you with raised brows.
You snort through a chuckle. "No, I know. Here, let me help."
After greeting Mitch with a small embrace (and a peck to your cheek), and an awkward smile and brief hug with Harry, the four of you lug everything they'd crammed into the car up to the relevant rooms.
As previously assumed, Harry had brought more than probably necessary, and the small back room was brimming with his belongings.
"I did tell him the room wasn't massive..." Sarah mutters as the four of you awkwardly stare into the room from the hallway. He has bags everywhere, all over the bed and floor, hidden away between every available nook and cranny in the awkwardly shaped room.
"It's not a big deal," Harry shakes his head, "I'm sure once I've unpacked everything you won't notice it."
You nod to yourself in silent hopes that that would be the case, but quietly slip away to the kitchen. You're absolutely desperate for a cup of tea after all that moving.
Sarah had noticed you scurry off, and follows you with a slightly bemused expression. "Did you buy new drawers for him..?" She whispers loudly.
"Yeah, why?" Your tone is soft - there's no point in whispering about it.
"And shelves, and... a reed diffuser?"
You shrug, filling four mugs with tea bags and sugar. "Thought he might need a bit more storage is all."
Sarah raises a single brow at you, still struggling not to smirk. "You never bought reed diffusers for your other tenants."
You roll your eyes, shuffling around her to the fridge to get the milk. "It's not a big deal, he can throw it away if he doesn't want it."
"Well, you haven't bought me a reed diffuser." Sarah mumbles rather shortly, as if she were offended.
"Ah!" You hold a finger up to her. "I knew you'd get arsey about it," you giggle, hurrying away into the next room and returning with a little gift-wrapped box, "so I bought you one, too."
Sarah's laugh fills the small kitchen as she takes the box from you with the biggest grin. "Aren't you a good landlady?"
"Er, I'm your friend, not your landlady." You retort with a shake of your head. "Go and tell them there's tea down here for them."
¬
It was weird having Harry around the house. It wasn't uncomfortable at all, but it was strange seeing him so... normal. But at the same time he was completely predictable. For the first week he went out nearly every night and brought someone back with him, had them stay the night and made them breakfast in the morning, never to see them again. It didn't really bother you that he brought home an endless string of flings - you'd almost expected it. But what did bother you was the fact that Sarah constantly watched you with a grimace like she thought you might be about to explode because of it.
After a week Mitch left to go home again, and Sarah would be leaving again a week later to go and meet him. That meant that soon it would just be you and Harry in the house, plus whoever it was that he was seeing that day, and that could get interesting.
Sarah appeared the Monday morning after Mitch had gone home by the front door with an overnight bag.
You eye her curiously from your desk that sits facing through the house with an expectant expression. "Off somewhere?"
"Just for a couple of nights - going to go and see Mum and Dad. I'll be back on Wednesday." Her smile is sympathetic, almost guilty as she speaks.
"Don't need to look so... terrified about it." You laugh at your friend. "Your parents are lovely people."
Sarah rolls her eyes as she laughs with you. "Alright, you. Honestly, why weren't you a comedian?"
"No idea, maybe I should've been." You chuckle lightly, removing your glasses to rub at your eyes with the ball of your palm before setting them back on your nose. "Say 'hi' for me though."
"Will do," Sarah grins, and then cranes her head into the living room, "behave, Harry."
Harry's head appears in your direct line of sight from the other side of the wall. You hadn't realised he was downstairs at all, so you're a little surprised to see him obviously settled into the sofa. "I always behave."
Sarah looks from Harry back to you, and shakes her head slightly so only you can see. "Sure. I'll be back in two days."
You and Harry watch silently as Sarah departs the small cottage and wait until the hum of the taxi has disappeared up the drive. You turn your attention back to the article you're writing, once again failing to notice Harry stirring in the next room.
"What are we writing about this week?" He asks from next to you, a dirty mug in his hand as he peers down to assess what you're typing.
You have to admit you're surprised he's even asking at all. "Er, the likelihood of a second referendum and what it means with either outcome."
Harry watches you for a moment with raised brows. "Do you think that could happen?"
You grimace. "It could definitely happen, even though I very much doubt it will." The first one was fucking pointless. "But a lot of people want one so there's still every possibility."
"Do you want a second?" Harry queries, his sudden interest in your political views a little perplexing.
You breathe an awkward laugh and shift in your seat. "I didn't want the first one, nor did I like the outcome, but a second one is really fucking stupid."
"Would it be stupid, though? You might get what you wanted in the first place." He reasons, shoving his free hand in his pocket.
"And I still might end up with the same result twice, as well. The country voted to leave, so I really wish they'd just fucking find a good deal for us to leave with."
Harry smirks, taking a step backwards and waggles a finger at your computer. "Put that in your article. Tea?"
You roll your eyes again but fail to contain your smile. "That's not what journalism is about, Harry Styles. And yes please."
¬
"I'm heading into town for a drink, do you want to come?"
Harry's question confuses you. Do you want to go and get drunk? Yes. Do you want to do it in front of people you don't know? No. Has Harry asked you to come out with him since he arrived? No. Is he doing it out of politeness because you're the only one in the house now? Probably. Is he asking you because he now has no one else to go with? Definitely.
"Um, I would," you wouldn't, "but I have to write another piece tomorrow and I don't really fancy doing it with a sore head."
Harry smiles, since he probably would have enjoyed your company if you'd said 'yes', but he doesn't want to push you. "No problem. I don't think I'll be too late anyway."
You frown at his comment. Why does he care what you think? "Er, you can be as late as you want." You laugh half-heartedly. "Not bothered if you come home in an hour or at two in the morning - there's no curfew."
"I know," he chuckles as he hovers by the door, "but yeah, I'll be back a bit later."
You nod slowly, and then duck your head back to making dinner when he finally leaves.
Harry does return a few hours later mid-way through you binge-watching a season of QI on Netflix. He bursts in through the front door, a pretty little thing clinging to his arm. Something you had noticed was that all the girls he brought home looked the same; the opposite of you.
"Oh my God, this place is sooooo cute." The girl bubbles excitedly.
You turn your head with a wide-eyed look to see a pink-cheeked Harry watching you. He's only been gone three hours, what the fuck has he had to drink?
"Sorry." He mumbles, pushing the girl through the other way and out of sight.
"What for?" You ask with a bemused laugh.
"Um," is all he manages before disappearing the other way.
You're baffled to say the least, but it is all rather amusing.
He's gone for maybe an hour before he reappears on his own in some joggers and a t-shirt, and plops down next to you on the sofa, releasing a long breath.
You look around yourself in search of the girl he'd been with, and then back to him in confusion. "Where's your... friend?"
"Oh, she, er, passed out." Harry cringes, running his hands through his hair and shaking it out.
You can't help but snort at his bizarre situation. "What did you do to her? Bore her?"
"Oi!" Harry shouts defensively. "She was already three parts cut when I met her, think the fresh air got to her."
"Sure." You giggle, and then polish off the rest of your wine in your glass.
"Thought you didn't want a headache for your article tomorrow morning?" He asks, seeming slightly offended by the fact that you're drinking on your own besides your refusal to join him earlier on.
"One glass of wine isn't going to affect much." You reason, leaning forward to set your glass back on the coffee table. "So are you just leaving her up there all night or what?"
Harry shrugs, sliding his phone between his thumb and middle finger against the sofa as he stares at the TV. "Probably."
"How romantic of you." You mutter, your tone dripping with sarcasm.
"What are we watching, anyway?" Harry asks, clearly trying to change the subject.
You turn to him with a horrified expression. "This is QI! Very intelligent TV, this is."
Harry glances at you with an amused grin. "If you say so."
The two of you watch the episode, occasionally commenting on one of the questions or answers and laughing at something funny any of the panellists said. For a while you forget who you're sitting with - whether it be forgetting or ignoring, but it was nice that the two of you could relax and enjoy each other's company. You're unaware how grateful Harry is that he can hide away for a while and not be bothered with anything.
At first he'd been a little concerned about coming to stay at all since he thought you hated him. Every time he entered a room he noticed that you'd for some reason felt the need to leave, though you'd never expressed any actual bitterness towards him.
Harry likes you. You're intelligent, funny, and he honestly thinks he's never seen anyone more adorable than you. He secretly wishes you'd visited for longer when he'd been touring, but you only came to a couple of shows that were nearby and then made some excuse to go back home. When Sarah mentioned the room was free he felt like it would be stupid not to at least try and spend some time around you, especially since he'd planned to take the months ahead off anyway.
The first time Harry had met you was always prominent in his mind - how could he forget? It was on Sarah's birthday, you'd all gone out for a meal, and it sounded like Sarah had all but dragged you by your hair to the restaurant because you had apparently shown some reluctance. Whatever the reason was for you not wanting to go, it had encouraged you to drink a quite frankly excessive amount of vodka, and you'd turned into a completely different person. You were loud and still hilarious, but more so when you couldn't get your words out properly. You'd basically given a walking tour of Bath as you walked from bar to bar, your hair that had originally been pulled into a flattering braided up-do was undone and wild, like a curly eighties mess. Sarah had decided it was home time when you'd started ranting about Donald Trump, and that honestly could've been performed as a stand up piece.
"Harry?"
The sound of his name pulls him from his reverie. The two of you turn your heads to see the girl awkwardly swaying in the doorway, her eyes half-closed and struggling to hold herself.
"Oh shit." Harry mumbles, taking in the girl's inebriated state. He's quick from the couch to usher her out of sight, leaving you on your lonesome again.
You wonder what kind of head space he must be in to have a constant string of one night stands with no obvious emotional attachment to any of them. He'd just left her passed out in his bed, and barely worried when she came to find him. Either way it isn't really any of your business so you don't linger on the thought for too long.
Harry soon returns regardless, carefully assisting the girl to a waiting car before rejoining you on the sofa.
You eye him warily, waiting for him to explain, but he appears to ignore your gaze to focus on the TV. "I mean," you breathe a laugh, "I know it's a good program but you didn't need to get rid of your bird just to watch it."
He presses his lips into a hard line as he attempts to stifle his laughter. And fails. His giggles come out in little amused bubbles, like he's suddenly a little boy all over again. "It's just so good!"
"It's on Netflix, dude! It's not going anywhere!" You cackle at him, and you can feel the wine in your system making everything just that little bit fuzzier. "What did you do, get her a taxi?"
"Wanted to get her an Uber but we're too far away." Harry scoffs, but his face is still plastered with a smirk. "So I made her call her friend instead."
You stare at him with wide eyes over your giggles. "How charming of you!"
¬
Again, you don't mind Harry bringing home a different girl every day, you didn't care that they all look the same, and you don't care if they stay the night, or if they don't. Hell, you don't care if you have to take a fucking cup of tea up to them in the morning because he decides to fuck off to the gym and leave them on their own. Some of them were really interesting and nice to talk to, and certainly appreciated a good cuppa. You really don't give a shit.
You do give a shit however, when they're unnecessarily loud, disruptive and rude. Especially in your home.
"Er, what the fuck is that noise?" Sarah asks midway through your conversation on Skype.
You roll your eyes and sigh heavily. "Harry's next bit."
Sarah looks horrified all of a sudden. "Why is she so loud?"
"Not a clue mate, but it's all I've heard all day. Honestly, it's like the girl's never had sex before." You grimace, resting your chin in your hand. "I hope she wears out soon, otherwise I might have to go sleep somewhere else for the night."
"Maybe he'll sack her off early for her noise. I hope she's not still there when I come back tomorrow." Sarah visibly cringes at the idea.
"I fucking hope not." You agree.
The house suddenly falls quiet and your ears are ringing. You cock your head slightly and listen for a moment.
"Has it stopped?" Sarah whispers, her face right up to the screen so all that you can see is the top of her head.
"I think so." You mumble, waiting to hear any further noise. A small shuffle sounds from above your head where Harry's room is situated, followed by the opening of a door and the signalling floorboard creek you've got so used to, letting you know when he leaves his room. "Someone's left the room, for sure."
Sarah pulls her head back properly into view. "If he does appear, tell him to tell the bird to shut up."
You snort at your friend and start to laugh. "You know I'm not going to say that. I'll just do what I always do and pretend I didn't hear anything."
"Grow some balls!" Sarah chuckles. "It's your house!"
"I don't want any balls, thank you." You scoff a laugh as Harry appears at the foot of the stairs in just a pair of joggers, his hair in complete disarray. If you didn't know exactly what he'd just been doing upstairs you would have been incredibly flustered and hot in the face. But not now.
"Who are you talking to about balls?" He queries with an amused smirk, making his way towards you.
"Sarah." You mutter, averting your gaze from his bare chest.
"Oo," he hurries to stand behind your chair, placing a hand on your shoulder and bending down so that he's in view, "hi!"
You attempt to calm your breathing from his tiny gesture, managing to cover up a hitch in your breath with a cough.
Sarah evidently leans back into the sofa she's occupying with a grimace. "Jesus Christ man, will you ever learn to put clothes on?"
Harry grins proudly at his drummer. "Probably not, no."
"H, can I use the bath or not?"
You and Harry simultaneously glance up to see his current fling standing at the foot of the stairs in Harry's t-shirt and nothing else, with her arms folded and an irritated expression spread across her features. It might sound a bit stupid, but everything about her screams Bath uni student; from the way she holds herself to the way she practically snarls every time her glare falls to you.
"Oh yeah," Harry turns his attention to you, "can Fay use the bath in your bathroom?"
You look between Harry and the so-called Fay a few times, and you've never felt more scrutinised in your entire life. And you're a fucking journalist, for crying out loud. The only bath in the house was in the en-suite that's attached to your bedroom, so yeah, you always say people are more than welcome to use it, because who doesn't love a bath every now and then? "Do I have a choice?" Your laughter is an awkward hum. "There's some fresh towels in the cupboard next to the tub."
Harry grins widely, squeezing your shoulder. "Thanks, love."
You watch the pair in silence, with Sarah eagerly listening in, until they've disappeared back upstairs, turning your attention back to Sarah on your screen.
"I didn't even see her and I already hate her." Sarah frowns, shaking her head.
"She didn't even say please or thank you..." You sigh. "Fucking Bath students."
¬
All night she carried on with her fucking noise, and you thought you might lose it. They even had sex in your bath, you knew because you could fucking hear it. Every few seconds there'd be a little squeal or giggle or moan. The worst was when she started shouting his name, and you felt like telling her to shut the fuck up.
You barely slept all night, though neither did Harry apparently. The only bit of respite you got was at about three in the morning when the house finally fell quiet, and you slept until you were woken again by the irritating moaning of the annoying cow that was Fay.
Harry made a brief appearance with Fay on his tail, who just glared at you from the kitchen and muttered stupid comments every now and then like 'why is she so miserable' and 'she looks like she needs a shag'. For once it took everything within you not to tell her to get the fuck out of your house.
As you began your work and Fay began her screaming once again, you shoved your headphones in, something that was never necessary in your quiet cottage, in hopes of drowning out the annoying whining.
Around ten o'clock Harry noticed you starting to look irritated, an all too familiar expression that he didn't like to see on you. Almost forgetting that he had an irritating chihuahua of a girl clinging onto him, he tapped your shoulder.
You look up to him with a frown, then blink and your expression softens.
Maybe she's not angry with me? Harry thinks.
"What's wrong?" Your voice is hoarse, cracking in multiple places. Your eyes are dark, both in colour and with bags.
Harry shakes his head and attempts a small smile. "Nothing, I just wondered if you wanted another drink?"
"Oh, er," you begin, but are promptly interrupted by Fay.
"Jeez, do you ever fucking smile?"
You snap your attention to the girl lurking in your house and you're no longer able to control your tongue. "Jeez, do you ever shut up?" You mock her sarcastically.
Well, Harry wasn't expecting that response from you... You just glare at her for a moment while she glares back, before Harry decides he doesn't want a drink any more. Water from the bathroom tap is probably fine.
You watch in irritation as Harry shuffles away, whispering something in Fay's ear and all but dragging her back upstairs. You take a deep breath, recompose yourself and shove your headphones back in your ears to carry on with your work.
You aren't interrupted for a good two hours before Sarah finally returns home, snapping you from your mental zone.
"Is that annoying thing still here?" Sarah asks in an almost defeated tone.
You nod, your expression as defeated as Sarah's voice as you recline in your chair. "Finally snapped at her earlier because she was being fucking rude. Can't believe she's got the audacity to still be in my fucking house."
Sarah shakes her head, struggling with the urge to go up there and tell the bird to do one herself. "Want to go out? You haven't left the house for days."
"Do you know what, for once I actually do." You laugh at yourself.
"Let's go get some lunch somewhere."
¬
Screaming may have been a slight overreaction, but you're screaming nonetheless.
It's gone. The only thing you have to remember your grandma and grandad by was sat atop the mantlepiece this morning - you know because you remember looking at it during the news with your coffee - and it's gone.
A Torsion Pendulum clock with white balls and a gold stand is missing from your fireplace, and no they're not overly expensive to replace, but that's beside the point; it's the only thing your grandma and grandad gave to you when they passed because you were obsessed with it as a child - and now it's gone. Irreplaceable.
"What?! What's wrong?" Sarah asks as she hurries into the room, shortly followed by Harry.
"My torsion clock - it's gone." You whimper, turning to the pair of them with a heartbroken exterior. Tears are welling in your eyes, your chest tightening as you think what your mum will say if she finds out it's gone.
"When did you last see it?"
"This morning."
"Are you sure?" Harry queries with obvious scepticism, his arms folding across his chest.
"Positive. I was watching it spin when they announced the Common's vote this morning."
Sarah snorts. "Yeah, it was definitely here this morning." She mutters, turning to Harry. "When did your... friend leave?"
Harry narrows his eyes on Sarah. "Just after you two went for lunch. Why?"
Your friend's head rolls to the side as if the answer is obvious, a pout on her lips and a slight glare in her eye. "Come on, Harry."
"You've got to be kidding." Harry scoffs, his jaw setting as he glowers back at Sarah. "You really think Fay would steal a fucking clock?"
"She was the only other person here!" You yell towards him.
"Oh, come off it! I know you didn't like her but she wouldn't steal an ancient clock!" Harry retorts.
"She didn't like me either!"
"Then where the fuck is it?!" Sarah seethes, not letting up her glare just yet. "Let me remind you, Harry, that this is not your bastard house, it's YN's. She's let you have fling after fling here and never said a sodding word about it. Fay was your guest and she was bloody rude, and if the clock was here this morning and it's not now, she's the only person who would've taken it."
"This is ridiculous." Harry scoffs.
"You need to find her and get my fucking clock back." You point at him as you move towards him. "It might not look like much to you but my grandparents gave me that when they died and it's fucking irreplaceable. I thought you cared more than this."
Harry and Sarah watch you leave, Harry suddenly feeling less defensive and more stupid. He should've known better. There was no excuse for Fay's rude behaviour, and there was no excuse for him defending her. He knew the ornament had more sentimental value than just something for your mantlepiece, and he knew he needed to sort out the mess he'd made.
¬
"I don't want to leave you again." Sarah grimaces as she sits on your bed, taking your hands in hers.
"I don't want you to leave me either, but you have a plane to catch." You frown back at her, wrapping your arms around her to give her a lengthy and tight squeeze.
"You should come with me next time; we'd have loads of fun." Sarah suggests, pulling away to grip your hands again.
You laugh darkly, grinning at her with a glint in your eye. "We would - we'd be a nightmare."
"It'd be like my birthday all over again."
A loud and hysterical laugh falls from your lips as you fall backwards into your pillows. "Nothing will ever be that bad." You insist, dismissing the idea with a cutting gesture of your hands.
"One day I will have you that messy again." Sarah points at you with a smirk. "I promise. But you be good, I'll Skype you tomorrow."
"Yes please. Have lots of fun!" You beam back at your friend as she clambers off your bed and hurries away into the taxi waiting outside. You wait until the hum of the car engine has dissolved and then roll out of bed to start your day.
Harry had apologised, though it was a little half-heartedly, and offered to pay for a replacement clock, and even though the sentiment was kind, you refused his offer. It was your old clock or nothing.
You sit in front of your computer and wait for it to turn on, and then quickly log in and pull up an internet browser. Your face falls when the screen appears with a message telling you you've got no internet connection for whatever reason, and you glance to see your ethernet cable chewed in half.
Excellent - there's a mouse in the cottage somewhere.
You sigh and hurry up to your bedroom, fishing your laptop out of your suitcase from the last time you travelled anywhere and set yourself up at the dining table in the kitchen.
As you work over a fresh coffee, Harry and his next piece appear, though this one already seems much friendlier than any of the others had - she'd even said 'hello' on her way in the night before, even if only briefly.
"You are YN YLN, aren't you? The journalist?" The girl asks with a friendly smile as she sits on the opposite side of the small table, though not directly facing you.
"Er, yeah." You laugh awkwardly, smiling back at her.
She's pretty - they always are. Long dark hair that fell to her shoulders with deep brown eyes, and lovely dark skin. Her eyes glisten at you as she grins your way; straight teeth visible through her slightly parted full lips, and her smile has you staring for longer than you probably should.
"I thought you were! I've read a lot of your articles - you're very clever." The girl praises you warmly.
Harry never speaks, but he's glad to see that someone recognises you for your work and talent, even without mentioning it himself to her beforehand. Instead he just quietly sits himself next to you and opposite his current bird, listening to your conversation without interrupting.
"Oh, thank you." Your smile widens, though you couldn't admit it made you feel a little bit weird out loud. "Where do you read them?"
"You usually post them on the Independent don't you? That's what I normally read anyway, or at least on Facebook when they crop up. But yeah, you've always been really good at explaining things and making it easier for younger readers to understand."
You nod quickly, now feeling rather pleased with yourself. "That's what I was going for. I'm glad someone gets it at least." You chuckle.
The two of you continued to talk about your writing and your political views, discussing everything you could possibly think of with the current state of the country, even going through things with her she didn't understand well, until the pretty girl hopped in a taxi home, probably never to be seen again.
"You should bring home more girls like her." You mumble as Harry sits back down opposite you. "At least I can have a conversation with them then."
"Not everyone is that interested in politics." Harry reminds you, though there was a small smile tugging the corners of his lips. He's just happy you were still talking to him after the events from a few days before.
You stop squinting at your screen to look up at Harry. "Don't have to be interested in politics. They just have to be nice."
A small hum of a laugh bubbles from Harry as he takes a sip from his mug. He notices you struggling to look at your computer screen and frowns. "Don't you normally wear glasses?"
You heave a sigh, though it's more frustrated than irritated. "Yeah, but I have no idea where the bastard things have gone. Looked all over for them, they're nowhere to be found."
"Maybe Fay stole them, too." He mutters sarcastically, but you share a smirk with him.
"Yeah, maybe."
Harry nods slowly, finishing off his mug as he thinks of something else to say. He desperately doesn't want to stop talking to you, the past three days have been hard enough, especially with Sarah and her mouth. "I am sorry, you know."
You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze again. "I know. I just still can't fathom what the bloody hell you saw in a bird like Fay. She was vile, in every sense of the word. I get she's pretty but fucking hell she was dull, and not to mention incredibly rude. And you seemed oblivious to it until you realised she had actually stolen something."
"I know. I don't know what came over me but I do regret it. I'm usually more careful when they act like Fay did, but I guess she was just really... good..." Harry trails off when he realises what he's saying to you, brow furrowing and fervently chewing his lower lip, his nostrils flared slightly.
You begin to laugh at how shy he's suddenly become. "Are you sure it wasn't just the fact that all she did was scream your name?"
Harry's eyes snap to yours; wide and bewildered. "You heard that?"
"Oh, please," you scoff with a shake of your head, "I heard everything, she was fucking loud."
He presses his lips into a hard line and laughs quietly; a small chortle. "Guess your 'do you ever shut up?' comment makes more sense now."
"It might be a stone cottage, Harry. But noise bounces off these walls like a fucking bouncy ball on acid."
¬
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You mutter as you scramble through your drawers.
Harry wanders past your bedroom to see you all but ready to go out, bar your shoes, after hearing you hissing curse words for the past twenty minutes. "Are you alright, love?"
"Can't find my fucking earrings." You grumble without looking at him, slamming one drawer shut and opening the one next to it.
"Are you going somewhere?" Harry asks, slightly confused since you'd never mentioned it before.
You grunt unattractively, still not looking at him as you rifle through the drawer of what appears to Harry as a variety of tights. "Yeah, just some drinks with some friends from my old job."
Harry nods, but doesn't speak as you continue to struggle locating your earrings. Just as he's about to offer his services on your hunt you find them.
"Ah-ha!" You exclaim loudly, holding out a pair of mid-sized rose gold hoops. You quickly shove them in and stand straight, looking to Harry who's staring at you and frowning. "What?"
He thinks you look pretty, that's all. Your hair is curled and wild again, your eyes made up with a dark green eyeshadow, and a dark pink colour on your lips. You're wearing a tight, long black dress with a high neckline but low back, and he notes that it flatters your figure immensely. "Nothing. Did you er, need a lift?"
You shake your head, moving towards him and the door with your bag in hand. "I was just going to get a taxi."
Harry moves aside for you to pass. "Don't be silly - save you some cash I can take you." He insists.
"Have you not got plans this evening?" You eye him curiously.
He shakes his head and smiles down at you, and your heart rate picks up ever so slightly. "Nope, thought I'd have a quiet night in."
You study him for a moment, wondering why he's suddenly acting so weirdly, but soon give up and sigh with defeat. "Alright, fine."
Harry drives you all the way into the city, following your instructions to where you're meeting your friends, though your instructions aren't very clear and you get frustrated more than once.
"Do you want me to pick you up?" He offers as you begin to climb out of the tall Range Rover.
"Er," you pause, your hand gripping the door frame ready to shut it, "I don't know how late I'll be..."
Harry shrugs, one hand on his steering wheel and the other on the seat you'd just vacated. "I don't mind waiting up. Just text me or something?"
You bob your head from side to side in silent contemplation before finally nodding. "Yeah, okay."
He chuckles at your indecisiveness and nods once. "Have fun, love."
"Thanks." You mumble, closing the door and sheepishly walking towards your small trio of friends.
"Was that..?" Mia begins with wide eyes.
"Yep." You mumble your interruption.
Mia, Chloe and Rachel all stare at you for a moment as you stand looking at your feet with pursed lips and heavy breaths, desperate for the moment to pass as quickly as possible.
"Are you-,"
"Nope. He's living in my spare room." You cut Chloe off before she can jump to some wild conclusion like she normally does.
"No wonder she's been so bloody quiet!" Mia laughs loudly, nudging your shoulder.
¬
"Hello?" Harry answers his chirping phone quickly. It's only half midnight, he'd expected your call much later.
"Hi, is that Harry?" An unfamiliar female voice asks, obviously apprehensive.
Great, what's happened? "Yeah..."
"Sorry, I'm Chloe - YN's friend. She said you were her lift?" Chloe utters in a rather uncomfortable tone.
"Yeah, is she alright?" Harry asks, hastily standing from the sofa and making a move towards the door.
Chloe laughs quietly. "She's fine, it's just safe to say she's ready to go home..."
Harry chuckles at Chloe's bemused tone, slipping his loafers on one by one as he digs for his keys in the bowl by the door. "How much has she had?"
"Er..." Chloe's reply is high-pitched and full of amusement. "Enough, maybe too much. She might need to be put to bed when she gets home."
"Brilliant." Harry snorts, pulling his coat on. He's both eager and reluctant to see the state you've got yourself into, but there's not much time for reluctance when you're apparently close to passing out. "Thanks, Chloe. I'll be there as quick as I can."
"Thank you, Harry!"
He's in the car and driving into the city in seconds, the lack of traffic on the road for the time of night getting him to the bar he'd dropped you at in pretty much half the time. He spots you being held up by one of your friends, though you're still conscious and laughing at something. He pulls into a bus stop where the girls are waiting with you and hurries out of the car to help them.
Harry can't help but laugh at your inebriated state, offering an amused smile to each of the girls. He tries to get your attention, crouching down slightly in front of you to catch your gaze. "Doin' alright there, love?"
Your eyes watch his for a moment, and if you didn't know any better, you could've sworn the world around you evaporated, leaving just you and him in a blank void of space. It seems like a nice idea to you in all honesty. "'M jus' fine."
"Ready for bed?" He asks curiously, a teasing tone on his question.
You scowl at him, but it's more like a child's frown than anything else. "No." You reply bluntly, wriggling in your friend's grip.
Harry rolls his eyes through his smile and stands straight. "She doesn't go out much, does she?" He asks your friends, amusement apparent in his voice.
They all shake their heads at him, seeming a little out of it themselves.
"She's a bit of a hermit, always has been." The one that is most likely Chloe spoke up.
"I can hear you." You grumble, your frown deepening as you attempt to turn away from them.
Harry giggles at you again. "Think you can make it to the car?" He asks, nodding his head at the parked Range Rover that sits no more than twenty metres away.
You eye the car, squinting at it and attempting to stand straight. "Probably."
Harry glances at the girls who are sniggering between themselves. "Go on then." He gestures for you to start walking. "Thank you for calling me, I'll make sure she texts one of you tomorrow." He warmly grins between the three girls.
"Bye Harry!" The girls chorus at him as he turns away.
He slides past you to open the passenger door for you, watching you silently climb in until you're properly sat, before closing the door gently. He sends another bemused glance to your friends, before hurrying around to the driver's side and climbing in. "Have you put your seatbelt on?"
"Yes." You mutter, hugging yourself from the cold.
He checks that you have actually put your belt on, and then does the same, before starting the car up and heading back out of town to your cottage.
Before Harry even has chance to help you get out of the car you're already halfway up the path, stomping up to the front door. You unlock it in a frankly impressive time before trudging your way upstairs.
Harry watches after you in amusement, following you as you seem to pointlessly meander around the house. It was funny, seeing you ambling around doing nothing in particular. You always seem to have a purpose for everything you do, but not tonight.
"What are you doing, love?" He chuckles as you begin to strip out of your clothes, admittedly a little unusual for you anyway to do in front of someone you barely know. It may be fine in your own bedroom, but certainly not in Harry's.
"Going to bed." You answer, almost incredulously as you continue to take your underwear off without much care. It's your usual bedtime routine, again - in your own home.
"Oh my Christ," Harry mutters, quickly turning away from you in case you suddenly snap and scream at him, "this isn't your room, love." He tells you, peeking over his shoulder to check where you are. You're just climbing into his bed, and he could've sworn his heart rate increased ten times over. "That's not your bed."
You don't look at him as you snuggle under his sheets. "My house - my bed."
Little giggles fall from Harry's lips as he processes what you just said. You're actually in his bed. Naked. And drunk. It's like a dream scenario come true, except he has no doubt you won't remember it in the morning, and he definitely doesn't want to take advantage of you like that, because he just never would anyone.
He shakes his head as he moves around to lie next to you. He doesn't get in, he lies on top of the covers, fully clothed and giggling to himself at the state you've got yourself into.
"Why are you laughing?" You ask in an irritated tone, but never open your eyes.
"Because you're funny."
¬
You sit upright quickly, your eyes wide open as you take in where you are. You glance down at yourself and cringe, and then turn your head to see Harry watching you with wide, bemused eyes. "Why the fuck am I in your bed? Naked?"
"You put yourself there, love." Harry chuckles, rolling onto his back and folding his arms. Something about the way you look at him screams at him that you're still not fully in your right mind.
You growl in frustration, throwing the sheets off you and hurrying from the room, not bothering to take any of your clothes with you.
Yep, definitely still drunk.
Harry waits a little while longer before collecting your clothes and wandering across the landing to your room. You're fast asleep again, tucked into your sheets and completely wrapped up like a cocoon. He sighs heavily at the sight of you, placing your clothes in the laundry basket you kept in the corner of your room and climbs onto the bed next to you again.
¬
Harry feels you stir next to him, a small groan escaping you as you roll over onto your back, holding your head with your hand. He watches your eyes open, delicately turning your head to look at him with a bewildered expression.
"Why are you in here?" You croak at him, talking doing no good for the pounding through your forehead.
"Well," he hums, his tone so gloriously deep that it sends a shiver through you, "you were pretty drunk and I just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything too weird in the night."
You frown, watching him for a moment, your eyes glossing over as you begin to see something else; something you did last night that you probably shouldn't have. "Did I... did I get into your bed?"
Harry giggles at the horrified expression on your face. "Certainly did."
"Oh my God." You cringe at yourself, hiding your face with both hands. "How did I end up back here?"
"You woke up in the middle of the night, realised where you were, got arsey with me about the fact that you were naked in my bed, and then stormed off. Leaving your clothes on my bedroom floor." Harry explains, though his smile grew with each little detail of his story.
"How embarrassing..."
"What I want to know is why you just took your clothes off and got into bed?"
You peek at him and shrug limply. "I always sleep naked, I don't know. I guess a subconscious part in the back of my brain was like 'there's a bed, take all your clothes off!', or something."
Harry cackles loudly at you, his laugh making you feel a little funny inside. "I mean, any other time I would have been flattered, but you seemed to have absolutely no idea what you were doing."
You start giggling helplessly, burrowing under your covers since you could feel your face getting hot.
"Can you remember anything?"
You pull the covers down just so that you can see his face. "Not really."
Harry giggles, rubbing your hair until friction makes it a little frizzy. "Poor baby YN."
A little crease appears between your eyebrows as you huff at him.
You both fall into silence for a moment, neither of you entirely sure what to say next. It wasn't uncomfortable, maybe just confusing.
"Can I ask you something?" You ask quietly, still staring at the ceiling above you.
"Sure."
You pause before you speak, making sure you word it right without coming off rude like you normally do. "Why did you want to spend time here?"
Harry clears his throat, pursing his lips briefly in thought. "I always book this time of year off, clear my calender to make sure I've got some time to myself. I normally spend it in London but it's getting a bit tedious there and I fancied somewhere really sort of secluded.
"I remember the last time I came to Bath, no one gave a toss that I was here, it's a city in the middle of a countryside which is bizarre but also perfect, so when Sarah said the room was free I just thought 'why the fuck not'?"
You emit a little hum, pulling the covers down a little further so your whole head is visible again, feeling a little claustrophobic. "I guess that's fair enough."
"Can I ask you something?" He queries, looking down to you.
"No." You answer bluntly. You pause for a couple of seconds before looking back to him and laughing. "Yeah, sure."
Harry smiles at you and breathes a laugh. "Do you hate me?"
The way he asks it so casually, so freely with barely any thought has your stomach dropping metres through the floor to the living room below you. "No, I don't hate you. What makes you think that?"
He shrugs gently, chewing his lip for a moment. "I don't know, for a while you just seemed to leave a room any time I walked in, and you'd barely talk to me even though you were never particularly rude or spiteful towards me. I just wondered if I'd done something wrong."
"Oh Jesus, no." You snort a laugh, scratching the end of your nose with a cringe. "It's not really you personally, it's the way other people are around you. It's like people are incapable of doing anything if you're in the room."
"Really? I hadn't noticed that." Harry chuckles.
"Why would you notice?" You nudge him from under the duvet as you grin up at him. "But no, I don't hate you. I only hate it when you bring home dickheads like Fay."
"Yeah... She was pretty mad." He agrees, nodding slowly with wide eyes. "So, what are you doing today?"
"No idea. Need to sort out my headache first." You giggle, rubbing your head.
"I was wondering if you fancied going to the Christmas markets?"
You grimace through a long yawn and grunt. "We can do if you really want to, but it's the last Saturday - it'll be so busy."
"I don't mind." Harry insists. "To be honest when it's really busy it's better because I'm hidden amongst lots of people."
"Fine." You stress dramatically, peeking up at him and smirking.
¬
You spent hours wandering through the markets, and you genuinely thought your head might explode. You hate shopping in Bath on a normal day, let alone one where there were more people than it could handle. Every street was crammed full of browsing tourists, who often stopped in the middle of the path in everyone else's way to gawk at a stall. You shuffled through the crowds awkwardly, Harry always holding onto your shoulders in tight spaces so you didn't lose one another.
It was, however, undeniably romantic; the way the sky was already growing dark thanks to the early winter nights, the lights illuminating the streets in the most beautiful and festive ways. The smell of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts filled each individual alleyway, woolly hats bobbing up and down with each stride and red noses peeking from behind scarves. Cold air blew around you, sending a chill through you that you for once didn't mind.
"I do like those." You mumble as you point to a shack full of colourful stars, all attached around light fittings so that they lit up in the most beautiful ways.
"Why don't you get some then?" Harry suggests, raising a single brow at you.
You purse your lips in thought. "Because I don't know if I can justify spending twenty quid on some paper stars."
Harry looks from you to the shed, and then back to you again. "They'd look really nice in the living room."
You chew on your cheek for a moment as you debate it. "Maybe some white and black ones..."
And with that, Harry was gone.
You frown after him as he quickly grabs the attention of the lady in the stall, makes his purchase and returns with a brown paper bag full of your new light decorations. "There you go. Eight black and white paper stars for your living room."
You raise a brow at him and snort. "You know I've only got one light fitting in the living room."
"Put one in each room then." He chuckles, handing you the bag. "Where to now?"
"Fed up of the festive sheds already, are we?" You tease, nudging him playfully with a little smirk.
"Well, I quite fancy a drink." He admits.
You sigh heavily. "Alright, but I'm choosing. And I'm also not drinking."
You drag him back up towards the top end of town and slip down one of the quieter side streets into the pub you frequent when you're in the city on a day off.
"Bloody hell, haven't seen you in here for a while, love." Frank, the barman and owner laughs as you appear at the bar.
You grin back at him and nod. "I know, been hiding Frank."
Frank's wide smile soon falters as he and you catch onto a familiar voice behind him down the small stairway. "You know I love having you in here but Josh is here with Reece. Don't want you getting upset." He nods behind him, before excusing himself and disappearing downstairs.
Harry frowns as Frank disappears, and turns to look at you, who seems slightly pissed off.
"Bollocks." You grumble, chewing the inside of your cheek. "Forgot they still loiter in here on Saturdays." You admit, turning to look at Harry. "We'll go somewhere else."
"Okay..." It's safe to say Harry's confused. Why the sudden damp mood?
"Surprised you'd come in here again." Josh's voice interrupts you.
You inhale a sharp breath and look at Josh with a flat expression. He's stood behind the bar, his stupid hair pulled back by a headband as he practically glares at you with his terrifying and piercing pale blue eyes. "If I'd have known you were here I wouldn't have bothered, believe me." You glance back to Harry again. "Go wait outside for me?"
Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't a little bit concerned. "What's going on?" He asks quietly.
"Her ex is here, mate," Josh pipes up again, "terrified of him, she is."
You set your jaw and roll your eyes as he speaks. "Will you shut up please?" You spit without looking at him. "Just go outside, I'm just going to use the bathroom."
Harry glances at Josh apprehensively and then back to you. "Okay, but hurry up."
You nod, watching to make sure he does leave the small pub, and then slip into the toilets.
Terrified? Of Reece? That couldn't be further from the truth. He doesn't scare you at all, you just can't stand to be in the same room as someone with such little care and interest for anyone but himself.
As you exit the bathrooms you're greeted by an aggravated Reece. He's gained weight, even his height couldn't hide that, his fluffy blonde hair cut short again. But he was still nice to look at, and it was annoying.
"What are you doing in here?" He spits, seething for God knows what reason.
"I had come for a drink, but I'm starting to regret the decision more and more now, and I haven't even fucking sat down." You shake your head, trying to push past him.
"I told you not to bother anymore." He reminds you, grabbing you by the wrist as you nearly manage to squeeze by.
"Excuse you, dickhead," you growl, yanking your arm from his grasp, "but I've been coming here since way before you decided to take 'possession' of it. And I'm going now, anyway."
"Josh says you're hanging around with some twat that tries too hard to be Harry Styles." Reece stops you again.
"Why do you care?" You ask, turning away from him again and heading towards the door. Why does he care? You haven't been together for almost two years - why was he still getting pissy about it?
"Still hooked up on that shit, are you?" He follows you, only irritating you further. "I told you that you need to get your head out of your arse - it's pathetic!"
"For crying out loud Reece, just fuck off." You spit without looking at him, taking a deep breath when you spot Harry waiting in the middle of the street.
"Even if he was Harry Styles, why the fuck would he be interested in you?!" Reece calls after you, stopping by the door to the pub.
You stop short; halfway between Reece and Harry, and you just know that Harry has heard him by the baffled look on his face. You squeeze your eyes shut when you see Harry glare at him, making his way towards you with evident purpose. How have you managed to get yourself into such a stupid situation? Like how fucking ridiculous can it get?
You open your eyes as soon as you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you're grateful that it's Harry's and not Reece's.
"Wouldn't bother with her, lad," Reece calls over, "waste of your time."
Harry's head snaps in the direction of the pub, and you desperately shake your head, attempting to pull Harry away from the scenario and up the road.
"No, wait one second." Harry stops you, hurrying over to Reece whose face has fallen further with every inch that Harry has got closer. You watch him as he reaches Reece by the door, takes his cobbler cap off and rubs his hand through his hair, before smacking him on the arm and saying, "I am Harry Styles."
Your lips press into a hard line as you wait for Harry to return, watching him put his cap back on and struggling not to laugh.
Harry is grinning; positively beaming while Reece stands in the pub doorway with wide eyes, finally stunned into silence. Once he reaches you, he leans into you closely, his face hovering by your ear. "Take my hand."
You can't help but giggle, doing as he asks and locking your fingers with his. It felt weird, walking hand in hand with him, even if only for a short while until you're out of sight. It also felt extremely lovely.
Once you'd rounded the corner you unlatched your hand from his with a small, "Thank you."
Harry frowns, looking down to you. "No," he takes your hand back without hesitation, "I like it this way."
¬
"So..." Harry begins as you reach the outskirts of the city, you both deciding you just felt like going home rather than sitting in a busy pub, "fancy telling me what the fucking hell all that was?"
You turn your attention from the window to his light gaze. You know he's only asking because he cares. He held your hand the entire way back to the car, and still somehow managed to keep your conversation fairly normal. Even in between gear changes he's been insistent on keeping your hand in his, and honestly it feels nice to be wanted that way.
"He's... my ex." You answer simply.
"Well, I gathered that, love." Harry chuckles, turning his focus back on the road. "Why was he being such a prick?"
"Because he is just that - a prick."
"Okay. But why did he bring me up?"
You cringe backwards into your seat with an embarrassed frown, scratching your head as you struggled to answer. "Because... until Sarah was in your band I was... kind of a fan."
"What, and you're not anymore?"
You splutter a laugh and shake your head. "No, that's not it. He just used to make me feel bad for liking your music."
"How rude." He scoffs jestingly, quickly glancing your way. "I'm not trying to make you feel awkward, love. M'just curious is all. Won't make a difference."
"There's not really much to say, Harry. I've managed to avoid him for ages up until now. Stupid me forgot he still bloody loiters in there all the time."
"Did you leave him?"
"Yep. Didn't take it too well, either."
"Yeah, I'd be pretty pissed if someone as beautiful as you left me, too."
Once again, the way he managed to slip the comment in with barely any thought has you taken by surprise, and you're staring at him in disbelief; wordless and baffled. "Er..."
"What?" Harry glances your way again. "Did he never tell you you're beautiful? 'Cause if he didn't, he's a tosser."
"He's a tosser anyway, regardless of whether he told me he thought I was beautiful or not."
A smirk turns Harry's lips upwards. "'M glad you got rid if he spoke to you like that all the time, love. Y'really don't deserve it."
You clear your throat of the nervous lump. "Thank you."
Harry chuckles as he pulls up into your driveway. "Don't need to thank me, love. S'the truth."
You glance at him with a soft smile, hand hovering over the door handle as your other clicks your seatbelt free. He does the same, pushing his door wide open and hopping out. You both amble around to the front, you digging through your bag for your house keys with a small frown. Harry distracts you once again by catching one of your hands at the earliest opportunity, gently tugging you towards him, while your keys remain looped around your index finger by the keyring.
He rests a hand on your waist, and the other on your cheek, stroking over your soft skin with his thumb. You're incapable of looking away; mesmerised by the warm gleam in his eyes, and your heart is beating miles a minute as his head inches closer to yours.
"You're amazing, you know." He hums, his sweet breath caressing your face as he speaks.
You clear your throat, untrusting of your own voice in the intimate moment. "I am?"
"Mhmm." He hums, his thumb slipping a little further to smooth along your lips. "Intelligent, funny, headstrong; to name a few things."
"I think the mulled wine has gone to your head." You giggle, but inch closer so that your front is brushing against his.
Harry narrows his eyes at you and smirks. "Didn't have any."
"Yeah, just the smell. Like a drug."
He shakes his head at you but remains wordless, lowering his head further until his lips brush against yours. You rest your hand under his arm, but your breath catches with the contact of his lips on yours, and before you can comprehend what's happening he's kissing you properly, your bottom lip between his. You're helpless to kiss him back, falling into him a little too easily as you force a harder kiss to his mouth.
Harry doesn't seem to mind since his hand snakes around your back to hold you closer to him, his thumb back to delicately stroking over the apple of your cheek. You've suddenly grown in confidence within the past few seconds, because you're easing your lips wider in search of his tongue, something Harry reciprocates only too quickly.
Your hot breaths are a contrast to the cold air, causing a little bubble of heat around you with your close proximity, and masking your faces with a layer of moisture. Your new attachment has a fire burning between your thighs, your thoughts getting well ahead of you. It seems Harry is heading in the same direction, though, since you've become minutely aware of a certain thing poking into your stomach.
"We need to..." You heave, gently pulling him in the direction of the door, "we need to get inside."
Harry nods against you, moving with you in the direction of your front door while still keeping a firm hold on you. You remain with your lips tangled with his, right up until your back is pressed flush against the wooden door, and his front is the thing keeping you there. Your mind grows fuzzy and blank, unable to think of anything other than the fact that Harry's lips are actually on yours, his tongue still in your mouth, while the growth in his jeans is getting harder and harder.
His other hand has dropped from your cheek, roaming your sides over your coat. You doubt he can feel much exciting, but he's managed to get hard from just kissing you, so you've no doubt his thoughts must be in a much similar place to your own.
You give him a gentle push backwards, unable not to grin at him, and he doesn't look much put out by your nudge as he wears a smirk of his own. You spin in his hold, his lips immediately attaching to the skin just under the bend of your jaw, and it has you giggling as you slot the key into the lock. You hastily twist it, pushing the door open and nearly tumbling inside. Harry keeps his arm around you to prevent you from actually falling, unable to stifle his chuckles while his head remains buried in your neck.
You carelessly throw your keys into the bowl by the door as you turn around again, and Harry's already unzipping your coat as his lips reclaim yours. He pushes your coat down your arms, and you leave it to fall to the floor in the hallway as you move towards the front room. You blindly help him out of his own jacket, he haphazardly throwing it behind him near to where yours landed.
You fall onto the sofa, pulling him down with you so that it's messy, teeth clashing as he clumsily settles between your legs, his hand gripping the back of your right thigh. You yank his hat off, which has him giggling into your mouth, and then proceed to tug at the bottom of his shirt. Though you were hinting at unbuttoning it, Harry simply pulls it over his head and discards it to the floor.
He makes it his work to remove you of your jeans, freeing the button and zip with ease before teasing them (or yanking, they're quite tight) down your legs. He stands; making quick work of his own while you desperately get rid of your own top, casting it to the ground beside the sofa, quickly followed by your bra.
Harry pauses as he takes you in, his eyes trailing from your warm eyes all the way down to where he can see the visible damp patch on your knickers. He's momentarily thrown back to the night before, where he'd have loved nothing more than to admire you this way, but didn't want to take advantage when you were so out of yourself. And now you're just handing yourself to him on a plate.
You thought you'd be offended by the way he's just suddenly stopped, kneeing the sofa as his eyes caress your all but naked frame; but you're not. Because the look in his eyes screams that he's taking you in; admiring every part of you before you physically commit yourselves to one another. So instead you smile at him – a silent encouragement that you're ready and waiting.
He smiles back, leaning over you to press a long kiss to your lips, a hand gliding up your thigh to rub over that wet spot on the material of your underwear. You gasp, your body jolting a little at his boldness, your arms reaching around his neck. With you clinging to him he still manages to effortlessly remove you of your remaining piece of clothing, and it's easy enough to slip his arm around your middle again and drag you into his lap; legs straddling his waist.
You swallow the lump in your throat at the feel of his large cock poking between your legs, eyeing him carefully as his eyes search yours.
"You sure?" He hums; a genuine and cautious question that you find impossible not to reply to with a sarcastic remark.
"I'm sat naked in your lap with your dick between my thighs. 'M pretty fucking sure."
Harry inhales a long breath, a close lipped smile gracing his lips. "Remember earlier when I said you were headstrong?" You nod your reply. "Yeah, I actually just meant that you're blunt as fuck."
You snort, grinning proudly as you rock your hips into his ever so gently. He grins back, securing his arms tightly around you when you drop your lips to his again. You lift up only slightly, feeling the tip of his cock settle just where you need it to, and then slowly sink onto his thick length.
He grunts at the feel of your walls finally choking his stiff cock, catching your lip between his bottom teeth as he allows you to adjust around him. You tighten your arms around his shoulders, slowly rolling your hips forwards as you restart your search of his mouth.
Harry moves his hips in time with yours, his large hands spreading across your back to feel as much of you as possible. Your fingers tangle with his hair, gripping fistfuls every now and then because the sound of him grunting turns you on just that bit more.
A hand finds its way to your breast, cupping and massaging around it while his thumb strokes over your nipple until it pebbles. You continue rolling over his length when his lips leave yours, your eyes fluttering closed and your breath growing heavier and more erratic when his kisses make a trail to your nipple. You can't help your moan as he wraps his mouth around it, little flicks of his tongue causing you to whimper helplessly.
"Fucking hell, Harry." You breathe over him, your hands desperately clinging to fistfuls of his unruly curls.
His mouth begins moving upwards, sponging kisses around your throat and neck. "You feel... fucking. Incredible."
You're getting wetter with every passing second, his length moving through you with such ease that he hits the back of you unexpectedly. Your breath catches, and he holds you closer to him while continually rubbing that glorious spot inside your dripping core.
"Ugh, Harry. That's it." You mewl around him, your hips moving desperately with his as you feel that burn threatening in the floor of your stomach.
"Yeah? That feel good, angel?"
"Mhmm. Right there."
Harry takes a firm grip of your hips, his thrusting growing more purposeful; hard and short, until you're releasing a lengthy and heavenly cry from your ecstasy. He presses you against him tightly as his release fills you, claiming your lips with his own while he empties himself, before adopting a slow and attentive rhythm again to help you calm down.
¬
The only light in the room is coming from the lit fireplace on the far left of the room. Harry can hear it cracking and spitting between his soft whimpers, he close enough to feel the heat from the flames scorching his right arm. He lies on the thick fur rug, beneath a plush blanket you usually keep along the back of the sofa, though not much covers him thanks to you.
Two half empty glasses of red wine sit on the coffee table in the corner, the film you had been watching long paused and turned off since apparently your first adventure simply hadn't been enough.
His hands are in your hair, stroking and pulling with each bob of your head over his throbbing cock. He's still sensitive, so the moment he feels the back of your throat he's losing himself again, thick streams of pleasure filling your tiring mouth.
You delicately clean him up, before crawling back upwards to rest your head on his heaving and sweaty chest. He pulls the blanket up and over you both, feeling a chill in the room besides the fire.
"Why didn't we do this sooner?" Harry asks into your peaceful quiet, tracing circles around the bone of your shoulder.
You rest your chin on his pectoral and raise a single brow towards him. "Because you felt like sleeping with a bunch of other birds first."
Harry purses his lips. "Would it make you feel better if I said I wish I hadn't?"
You nod furiously and giggle. "Yes, yes it would."
He grins and leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "Can't imagine Sarah's going to be best pleased."
"Sarah hasn't got a leg to bloody stand on since she did exactly the same with your friend." You remind him, resting your head to the side once more. His heartbeat was still loud, a little uneven but beating nonetheless.
"Good God, you're right." He mutters dramatically. "Knew I liked y'for a reason."
You giggle, tightening your arms around him. You could probably stay this way forever, wrapped up in the company of him and nothing else. But it was never ever going to be that simple.
"Do we tell her?" Harry mumbles.
You think about it for a moment and then chuckle darkly to yourself. "No, I quite like the idea of her coming home to us like this. Can you imagine her face?"
Harry eyes you with amusement, shifting his head slightly to gauge the look on your face. "Didn't think you had that kind of thing in you, to be honest."
"Oh, you'd be surprised."
"Funnily enough... I don't disagree."