Later… With Jools Holland 

Santiago, 25/05/2018

Backstage Business

Hi hi!!! We got inspired. So here is a smutty, post show sex one shot 😎

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

——

Coming off of the stage, he knew he was a mess.

He couldn’t necessarily help it either. Being on stage, preforming? It was his thing. There was a variety of things that he felt. The loud music rocking in his ears, sweat dripping down his bare chest. The bubble of excitment in his stomach, knowing everyone in the room was there for him. Had travelled miles, some flew in for his shows and spent money because they adored him. Harry loved being adored.

Mostly though? It was the adrenaline that got him in the most trouble. The energy that would power him through the bounding around the long stage and the excursion of his voice. It took a lot out of him, but he loved it. However, the adrenaline went all over his body. He could feel it in the dizziness of his head, the chills that went over his skin, and more than anything else?

His cock.

Y/N always loved to see her lover preform. But from the first time they’d been properly together she realized that she was in for it when she did get to come and see it. Seeing as Harry was a sex pest on stage, grinding his hips against the microphone stands, rolling his hips, thrusting himself in the air, she wasn’t necessarily surprised more than she was impressed.

Off stage, the first thing he did was grab her hand and tug her towards the dressing room. He had a strict rule for everyone to not bother him 20 minutes after a show ended, and the hard cock thrusting into her sopping wet cunt was the reason why. When he was alone, he’d take care of it in the shower. But y/N was thankfully here and ready to be the vessel to take all of his pent up energy.

“Oh my fucking god.” She whimpered into his chest, hands holding the sweat damp locks as he fucked into her cunt. He held her tightly against the wall, one hand holding her thigh up against the man’s waist while the other gripped her hip to keep her still. The bite of his cool metal rings into her skin made her shiver.

Harry had barely given her a minute. Shoving her in and locking the door, his fringe vest thrown off and her skirt lifted up enough that he could thrust into her. The hot cunt was a welcome relief to his throbbing cock, the sigh of relief filling the air as he began to work.

“M’sorry… needed… need it.” He hissed through his teeth, leaning in and kissing her once her head lifted. Her cunt had been soaked watching him perform as it always was, and Harry knew by now that Y/N loved when he got needy for her.

“S’okay… fuck… y’did so good, H.” She cooed, head falling back in to the cool wall as her body jolted. His cock was steadily thrusting into her, the swollen lips spreading with each fuck. Harry was eager and she could feel it in the way his movements weren’t as controlled as normal. He loved her praise.

“I did?” He purred. “Did good? You love it?” He dug for the compliment, panting as he pressed his forehead against hers and moved into her faster.

“Uh-huh. So fucking good, Harry. Baby’s so talented… so lovely. Look so good on that s-stage.” She stuttered, hand gripping his shoulder for stability. He was giving it to her so damn good.

“Felt so good.” He grunted. “Missed it. Missed playing up there… missed this.” He was being specific about their after show sex. Something so good and fun for their sex life, the way it managed to get both of them worked up. He was almost trained to get hard as soon as he saw her in the audience, knowing Damn well what was happening when he got offstage.

“I did too…” she yelped when he got at the spot he had been searching for, mouth falling open as his cock pistoned into the soaked cunt. Her hole clenching around him, desperate to keep him just liked that. There was nothing he loved more than when her pussy managed to suck him back in, just like this.

“Yes, yes… did so good, and now m’gonna fuck you so good.” He rambled, nipping at her jaw as he pulled her up and into him. The change immediately had her squealing, breathing heavy.

“Yes! Like that- there. There, Harry.” She growled, tightening her hold on his hair- which sent him spiraling. His cock pounding into her welcoming pussy over and over again, the slick, sloppy sound of how wet she was filling the room along with his grunts and her broken whimpers, he knew anyone who walked by would know exactly what they were doing. He just didn’t care. Let them know he was giving it to her good. He’d never apologize for that.

“More, more.” She repeated, dripping against him. His cock was soaked and slippery, and the urging was what he really needed. Lifting her leg higher, though, was what really had them going undone. “Oh fu- m’cumming.”

The angle had it perfect for her, her body shaking slightly as his cock got the perfect spot and hit it over and over again. Her beautiful reaction had him urged on to go faster, feeling her cum all over his cock. Gushing around him, nails digging into his skin and the harsh yank of his hair that sent him into his own explosive bliss .

He let out a feral growl, biting down on her neck as he thrust hard into her, working her through her orgasm as his own shot through his body. The electricity washing over his body as she shivered and clung to him, his arm wrapping around her to keep her upright as he began to let go.

The hot cum shooting into her and coating her walls with the white liquid had her letting out a sob against him. The bite, his grip, the pure heat of it as she could feel his cum start to drip out from where they were connected… it was delicious. Her head fuzzy with pleasure and their bodies sticky with sweat, she found this to be her happiness. It had been far too long since they’d done this.

You never know what you have until you go 2 years without it.

Harry kissed over the bite mark, cooing as he realized he did it a bit hard and nuzzled into her neck. His own legs felt weak but he refused to let her fall, taking a moment as he felt her cunt milking his cock for every drop of cum. As it should. He hated using condoms with her and rarely ever needed to, but this was a mutual thing.

“Fuck me.” She giggled, gently stroking her hand through his hair. Tenderly this thing instead of the yank that had brought stars to his eyes. “Another stellar performance from my rock star.”

“Already did.” He slurred against her sticky skin, pressing his kisses all over before he mustered up the strength to pull his head out of her neck. Their lips connected for a loving kiss, gentle but passion laced as they smile came on his face. His cheeks were flushed but felt hotter from her good review.

The after effects of orgasm washed through him, the tiredness and contentment. The adrenaline had been channeled into something far more useful than his old habit of treadmills.

“Fuck, I needed that.”

New York City- 10/4

Secret Love Song

Hello, everyone! I’m writing again for the first time in about a year and I am so excited. I’ve been playing with this idea for a while but I finally got the motivation over last few weeks. ( i wonder why ;) ) There’s a bit more to it and I was considering posting a Part Two. So let me know if you want to see that!

“Why can’t I say I’m in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops.”

It was all happening for him. Having a solo career was something Harry had dreamed of since he was a kid – it was what he had showed up for at the X-Factor audition in the first place. He’d been more than happy to have the opportunity to be a part of the band and to experience everything with boys by his side. But now, for the first time in 7 years, his dream had finally become his reality.

The day had come for his debut album to release, one of the most anticipated days in the industry, and you couldn’t find anything suitable to wear to the release party. Some of your dresses were nice enough but nothing screamed important industry party to you.

You throw yourself down on your bed, burying your face deep into your pillow, figuring maybe you wouldn’t go. Between the music executives, press and fans, Harry would be tied up all night anyway. And the fact that the public still didn’t know about the two of you wouldn’t help much. He’d practically begged you to come though but his insistent invitation had a bit of a damper to it when he gently reminded you, you’d be going as his sister’s date. But even so, he swore up and down that he wanted you there, whether you got to be together or not.

Keep reading

Where have h and bambi have had public sex and how do people tease them for it??

Well the worst time was in a back room at a photoshoot.

People heard them and Bambi had to go through the rest of the day trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Meanwhile, Harry, who had completely freaked out at first, got kind of smug and took the teasing as compliments.

“I will never visit you at work again,” she said on the drive home, arms crossed, her face screwed up.

“Why are you mad?” he teased. “You initiated it.”

“I’m mad at myself!”

“Aww, don’t be.” He poked her cheek and she pretended to bite his finger off, both of them laughing.

“How mad at yourself are you?” he asked, eyes on the road.

“Mad enough to say fuck it and suck you off while you’re driving.”

His eyes grew wide as he swallowed and she burst out laughing and pinched his cheek. “Just kidding. I don’t wanna kill us both.”

“Well,” he exhaled sharply, “I’m here for good time not a long time so...” As he pretended to unzip his trousers, she cracked up and swatted him on the arm.

“We’re shameless,” she said in between giggles.

“That’s why we cannot be with anyone else but each other,” he replied, an eyebrow arched. “Disappointed?”

“Very,” she said, but she was grinning.

Masterlist

Imagines 

The one where Harry’s in love with you but you’re clueless and dating someone else Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The one where you just wanted a fling but Harry wanted to take it slow Part 1 Part 2 

The one where you need comfort and Harry just loves you 

College Harry Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I love you too & I love you too II

Best friend’s brother Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

From The Dinning Table Part 1 Part 2

Moving in Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 +1 Part 13 +1 

Stop at Abbey Road 

Frat boy Harry smut

Haze 

Bad Kisser 

Flirt 

The Girl, the Miss, the Mrs Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ohana Part 1 Part 2

Lawyer Harry Part 1 Part 2

Doctor Harry 

 Principio 

 Principio II

 Grito por dentro 

Dulce introducción al caos

Golfa

Cerca del suelo

Hoy te la meto hasta las orejas 

Primer movimiento: El sueño

Rojitas las orejas 

Corto

El sitio de mi recreo

 So Payaso

El Pájaro Azul

Salir

Moody Blue

La vereda de la puerta de atrás

Segundo movimiento: Lo de fuera

 Pequeño rocanrol endémico

 Yo me quedo contigo aquí

Buscando una Luna 

Si te vas 

Ocean Eyes

Locura Transitoria 

Un suspiro acompasado 

Pierdo verticalidad

Cuando no me ves 

Sweet Creature

Tercer movimiento: Lo de dentro 

Cuarto movimiento: La realidad

T la sudo

Spanish Eyes

The End Of The Road

   Doctor Harry blurbs: 

Single:

A hard day’s night 

Parents: 

Bad mom 

First belly

Scared

Prompts 

Prompt List 

Prompts 1&18 #I can’t stand your silence #Give me a chance

Prompt 2 I thought we were family

Prompt 5 Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I don’t love you 

Prompts 6&19 Let me look at you & Just don’t shut me out, okay?

Prompts 15&33 You have no idea what you do to me & God you make me mad

Prompt 24 We’d make such cute babies 

Prompt 27 I would but I can’t feel my legs 

These are quite devastating

Long Island- 11/28

Imagine posting an aftersex picture with Harry.

“Babe, I have to post this,” he states as he’s taking a closer look on the picture, a wide grin spread across his face. 

“You can’t post an aftersex picture for the entire world to see,” and even though you chuckle, you’re quite serious, knowing very well that it’s clear to see what the two of you have just been up to; messy hair, flushed cheeks and both of you smiling satisfied. 

“Come on, we look great,” he pleads, watching as you walk across your shared bedroom to open the balcony doors, the smell of sex hanging in the air and lingering on the sheets. “And I don’t care if it’s obvious what we’ve just done, I mean, everyone already knows that we have sex,” a chuckle leave his lips, a thin layer of sweat having formed on his chest after the round you’ve just done.

“Fine,” you eventually give in, knowing very well that he won’t stop begging for your permission until you surrender. Harry smiles in victory, quickly uploading the picture with just “xx.” as a caption, the picture being the topic of many conversations afterwards. 

I ADORE Eden and Harry but I also really really really love your writing so if possible could you do a normal piece (not Eden and Harry I'm sorry I love them but it wouldn't work for this request if you're willing to write it but ofc you don't have to!) where Harry is an asshole to 'y/n' even though she's super sweet to him pleaseeeee? I feel like you'd write angst really well! Only if you have time though!! Thank you, hope you're well :) x

Thank you for all the kind words!  I’m not as familiar with angst…am I writing it without knowing it? I just wouldn’t be able to find it exactly in something I’m reading or writing. But I tried my best with this one, hopefully you deem it worthy of what you had in mind! I think I like it so hopefully that means something! I hope you’re doing well also! 😘

reminder since things have changed since this request was made: [requests are closed until October.] 

[04] “He’s not usually like this, you’ve just come on a bit of a rough day…rough week…weeks.”

She isn’t bothered. Isn’t rattled, taken back or discouraged by it at all.

She knows he’s anxious, stressed and all the other words that fall under the same umbrella.

It isn’t an excuse for him to act like this. It’s a factor, but it isn’t an excuse. She knows that, she thinks she knows that. Maybe, she wants to know that.

He’s waiting for a call he isn’t even sure he’ll get. The one about the role he’s been praying for since leaving the place he auditioned for it.

So, she gets it. She does. She gets it. It just doesn’t make things simpler, or easier to handle. But she understands it…on most days.

But she still tries, for whatever it’s worth, on the off chance that today or maybe even tomorrow will be a better day. So she spends her Saturday outings (the ones they used to take together) alone. Which she’s willing to do, with a hope that in a few Saturdays from now he’ll join her.

“Found these monogrammed mugs for us whilst I was out. Looking at them now they’re a bit silly aren’t they…” She still smiles looking at them as he finishes his late breakfast. “S’just one of those things right, you see the first letter of your name and you just have to have it.” She sets them down in the sink to wash them, always have to wash the things you buy before using them. “We’ve got too many fancy mugs anyway, these are more us right? Less uptight maybe?”

He doesn’t answer, maybe he hums in response but that might as well have been silence.

→ → →

Harry still hasn’t used his monogrammed mug. That’s fine, she isn’t bothering herself with that for too long. Maybe he isn’t in the mood for a hot drink or maybe he’s just too busy for one.

But it’s not that he hasn’t used it for his morning brew, nighttime tea or any of the aforementioned. He’s thrown his out. Properly, threw it out. In the bin. The monogrammed mug is in the bin.

She wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t peeled that clementine and looked for where to throw out the peels. But she did. At first she thought maybe because it had a crack in it. (But she could have just returned it if he had seen one.) Or maybe it wasn’t microwave safe, but what mug isn’t? And she checked just to be sure before she bought it.  

But it’s in the bin now.

For no good reason.

And she pulls it out just as he comes down the stairs for someone at the door.

“You don’t like it? Didn’t have throw it out…” she shrugs grabbing for an apple. “There are nicer ones on Etsy.”  

“We’ve got plenty. We don’t need anymore bloody mugs.”

They’ve got twelve, maybe two more than that. But that isn’t plenty. That’s six or seven between the both of them. And she has tea twice a day and so does he. So she knows it isn’t about the excess or lack of mugs that’s ticking him off.

“Well good morning to you too,” she mutters before biting into her apple.

→ → →

The next day is something else. Like it always is. It’s always something else.

Her friend dropped her cat off with them. With her. (She isn’t sure if Harry will be around much.) But she thinks she’s a suitable cat sitter all on her own. She prefers dogs but she likes the way cats know what they want, and what they don’t want. And maybe this could be a chance to show him that they really should get a friend.

What’s unsettling, perhaps disappointing (the common theme for the last few weeks) is that Harry doesn’t even notice. Let alone ask why there’s a cat in the middle of his living room. Doesn’t ask if she’s rescued it from a nearby tree or rescued it from a shelter.

So she fills in his blanks, the ones he’s not looking for.

“Fleur’s, she’s going on holiday, Portugal I think so I told her we’d watch her cat. I can do it, you’re busy I know.” She smiles up at him. “But you like cats, thought it’d be good for you, for a few days—”

“Keep him, don’t keep him…” he slips on his coat as he shows her just how much he couldn’t  care less. “Your friend isn’t she?” He glances at his phone.

“He’s soft,” she grins. “Good too, keeps to himself for the most part. I know they all do but—”

She can’t complete her argument about how even though most cats keep to themselves he’s extra good. And she wants to add how most of them are independent and love you just enough for you not to get too spoiled. But he’s taking a phone call she knows is important before she can say any of that.  

“Haven’t got many toys for you to play with,” she pets the small thing as she wonders how small paws like those get him around. “Or do you just make everything into a toy of yours?”

“Got to step out for a bit.” He looks back down at his phone.

“It’s raining,” she looks to the window at her right. “You’ve got an umbrella?”

And he’s out the door before he can give her answer that he wouldn’t have given anyway. She’s surprised he’s even told her that he’s off somewhere. She can’t wish him a good day because the door shuts without a word.

“He’s not usually like this, you’ve just come on a bit of a rough day…rough week…weeks.” She assures the cat on its back. “How’s he usually?” She asks, because the cat is asking. “Not like this, but it’s a been a while since then…think I forgot a bit how he’s usually. Maybe this is the new usually…”

She doesn’t want it to be, needs it not to be but there just isn’t a flicker of light at the end of this tunnel. And she can’t remember a time where there was.

He isn’t usually like this, that’s the thing. He’s never like this. She doesn’t know this, she didn’t know this before it happened. And that’s pretty hard if she says so herself. To deal with something she never expected. She knows that’s usually how it goes but still. He’s still her Harry that isn’t like this.

“Good thing you’re just visiting. Not that I don’t like you, I do, but you wouldn’t have much fun here now. Maybe once he’s got that role he’s chasing so bad he’ll be back. Then you and I can throw a party for him. And you’ll see how he usually is.”

The cat understands.

→ → →

That evening it’s something else. Like it always is.

“We can go out, eat at that place your mum said was really nice,” she turns her head to him in the kitchen from the couch she’s sat on. “Or the one raved about in the paper yesterday.”

“Not tonight.”

“I know you’re still waiting for that call, you’ll get it though. M’not just saying that either.” She sets her bookmark down in between the pages of her book. “You know I don’t go around saying things I don’t mean.”

No answer.

“Think the cat agrees as well. And he doesn’t even know you that well yet.”

No answer.

“Oh, your dad called, said he wanted to take us to dinner. Well actually, he wanted us to come over. Said he has a new recipe he wants to test out. Wants us to be lab rats for a night.”

“When’s that?”

“He said if tomorrow works—”

“Did you tell him we were coming?”

“No, not ye—

“Good.” He kicks off his boots. “Coz we’re not.”

“But—”

“Need to have a shower.”

→ → →

The next day is something else, brings something else.

It’s that food fair at Regent’s Park she wants to go to.

It’s that fair at Regent’s Park that she knows she’ll have to beg for him to come to…it’s that one she knows he won’t come to.

It’s not like she’s gonna ask him to ride the carousel they have there. (Even though it’s a nice one.) So she doesn’t see why he could say no. It’s a food fair.

And she’s willing to bring out all the logistics she’s already thought about. They wouldn’t even have to drive, the tube will do just fine. Would bring them right to it, that way he doesn’t have to be fussed with parking when he really doesn’t want to be fussed with anything.

But before she could, he seemed too annoyed with the fact that she hadn’t gotten the right type of orange juice. (They all taste like oranges don’t they?)

She’s used to it, him getting mad at her for the smallest things that he’s got no grounds for.

So she doesn’t ask about the food fair at Regent’s park.

She figured going with the cat would be more of the same thing either way.

So she went with Harry’s PA. She’s the one who told her about it. Said it’d be something fun for him to do. Get out of the house for a bit, even though he’s worried about leaving because there might not be cell service wherever he might be going. (There’s cell service at Regent’s park. She checked. Double checked. Was about to triple check…)

The food fair was what it was. A food fair. And there were too many kids on that one carousel she liked and she wasn’t in the mood for feeling silly. Not when Harry’s not there to be silly with her either. Because she’s old and some small kid with a runny nose might tell her she’d break it.

If Harry were there he’d know what to say to that supposed kid with a runny nose. That maybe if she’d break it, he’d shatter it. He wouldn’t say that though, he’d probably tell the kid he was going to build her one. One much bigger and better than this small thing.

So she passes it by it as Harry’s assistant asks the same questions about him like she always does.

She’s sick of answering to other people about him too. Because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why he’s got to act like this. She knows why, but she doesn’t know why he’s choosing to let it affect him this way.

Because when she gets this way, when she’s anxious…waiting for something. She’s got to do something else. Take a bath, a few. Go to a food fair. Go to that restaurant raved about in the paper.

And there’s only so many excuses she can come up with. Harry can’t have the flu for two weeks, or hay fever on a Monday and a stomach bug on a Wednesday.

They all start thinking it’s got something to do with her at some point. She thought so too at some point, she still lets that sink in sometimes. That he’s acting this way because things aren’t good between them anymore. That maybe he’s had it.

But she assures them (while she isn’t assured at all) that he’s just feeling overwhelmed and anxious. Which sounds a lot better. And a lot blander, and a lot more of what she’d like it to be instead.

When she gets back, he’s cranky again. He’s cranky and wondering why his personal assistant isn’t answering her phone. He’s supposed to read through the scripts for the other projects he’s been sent. But how can he do that if he hasn’t even seen them yet? And he’s just as cranky to his girlfriend because wasn’t she just with her?

“She did call you, I was there…” she prepares herself for his usual behavior. “You weren’t answering her so she dropped them off with me. Just told me not to peak or anything since they’re classified and for your eyes only.” She sets them down on the kitchen island.

“She can’t even do her lazy job,” he stacks them up irritably.

“She—” she begins but lets it evaporate into the tense air. Because what difference is that sentence gonna make?

→ → →

“Harry, Harry!” She climbs onto their big bed where he sits reading the stack of pages delivered to him. “They’ve put them back on the menu! The samosas we really like! They’re back!”

He likes them just as much as she does so he’s got to have some type of a reaction.

But he doesn’t have one.

“Can we go? Won’t take long, we can take them to go since you’ve got all this to read.”

“Not tonight.”

“What about this weekend, you pick a time. I’ll follow.” She fixes some loose strands of his hair that probably are bothering him but he’s too invested to worry about anything else.

“M’busy,” he mumbles with a pen in between his lips and more importantly he says her name right after. And he hardly ever does that, only when he’s not being him.  

“Maybe next week.” She scoots off the mattress, convincing herself that next week will be better.   He doesn’t answer her.  

Later when she’s in the bath, trying to wash or scrub away the day she tries to think of new ways. New ways to get him back to what he was. She knows that this has to be one of those ‘wait it out’ type of things. But she doesn’t know if she’s willing to stand by that for much longer.

She calls, she calls his PA nearly every day. Needing to know when Harry will expect the call he’s been waiting for. And she doesn’t know either.

So it really is about waiting it out. Waiting it out until the water runs cold.

She’s busy playing with bubbles and thinking of new things to get him back to her when he walks in.

A bath, she’s never thought of that. A bath cures everything. Washes, kneads and melts away all the worries. They’ve got a nice one too, spacious and pearly white.

“Wanna come in? The water’s still warm.”

No answer.

She sighs loudly through her lips before submerging herself fully in the water as he turns the shower on. She likes it here, under. But she’s got to come back up at some point, when her lungs nearly give out.

She’s undecided. And that’s not a fun place for her to be either. She can’t decide if she’s hurt or angry or understanding. She doesn’t know if she’s managing understanding well anymore either. Because hurt is seeping in and it’s dragging anger along for the ride.

When she’s out of the bath, soft and still warm she heads downstairs for one last bedtime snack. The one she isn’t supposed to have. Because she’s trying to kick the habit of something sweet before bed. But she’ll start that tomorrow.

“Why is my mum calling about lunch this Wednesday?” Harry asks coming down the stairs as she sits on the couch with her oreos.

“I called her, well I called her back, she’s been ringing you about having lunch—”

“Christ—why’ve you got to meddle into every little thing!”

“I didn’t—”

She chooses not to complete her sentence because she knows it won’t do anything. He won’t understand anything from it. The completley innocent motive behind it. “Didn’t mean to, sorry Harry.” She gets up from no longer comfortable spot on the couch.

She wants to say that she didn’t, she isn’t meddling. His mum just hasn’t seen him in nearly two weeks, and hasn’t heard from him in about the same time.

He keep his line open, barely answers any other calls just in case the call he’s waiting for is comprised because of a food order he wants to make over the phone. So Anne called her to see why that is and frankly, she didn’t know what to answer. She can only us the words stressed and busy so many times.

She didn’t mean to let his mum know he was fine and that her usual visit is still a go. She probably should have checked his schedule first but he didn’t think he’d have anything scheduled for that same time.

It rushes in at right about now, at how all of these last few weeks have made her feel. They made her feel stupid, genuinely stupid. She feels stupid for keeping at this. For taking it, for sitting there and taking it. Blow after blow.

She hasn’t been able to lay a finger on what is that she’s feeling while he goes through his storm of feelings. But she thinks she’s found it. She feels dumb.

And once she’s found it, after digging deep she decides she doesn’t want to feel dumb anymore.

There are plenty of rooms, too many for just the two of them. So she chooses, not at all like goldilocks would because she’s much too tired but she happens upon one. She doesn’t care if he notices or he doesn’t. She just needs to not feel like she’s a speck of sand or gum stuck on his shoe. One minuscule and the other a bother. And she feels like both with him.

The cat’s followed her and managed to make it onto the guest bed. She pets their cat for a week slowly. Keeps doing so as she settles into the unfamiliar bed. Keeps doing so until the door opens.

“Was looking for you, what are you doing in here?” He asks even though he understands when he sees her in bed.

“Think you need your space for a bit,” she adjusts her pillow, nearly punches it to get it just right. And Harry wonders if she wants to do the same to him. Just maybe. “In addition to the rest of the space you’ve been keeping.”

“Stop,” he sighs. “Stop being silly, get up love.”

“Don’t want to.” She answers honestly. “S’not like it’s any different than how it’s been.”

“How’s it been?”

“Where you’re at the other end of the bed avoiding me like I’ve got the plague or something you could catch. Bunch of silence too. And maybe I need some of that space and silence now.”

“And what would you need space and silence from?”

“You.” She turns the beside lamp off.

“Me?” He asks turning it back on.

“You.” She turns it back off.

“Why me?” He turns it back on.

“Being around you makes me feel like I might as well be here to pull your teeth.”

“Where’d you get that—”

“You do this, you always do this!” She doesn’t care if he won’t believe her. It’s the truth. She’s been around to know for sure. “Stop unleashing all of your stress on me, I’m here for you! I’m on your side! Always been on your side!”

It’s not that he’s surprised she’s yelling, he knows she’s got a yell or two in her. He’s taken back that it’s him, just him that’s making her yell. She’s not yelling to let off steam about something her mum said to her, something that happened at work, or something she saw. It’s just because of him.

“You don’t see me angry with you about orange juice when I’ve got back to back exams in a week!” She yells and if she could yell louder she would. It’s her turn now. “You know what I do instead? I go with you to whatever event it is you need to show your face at! Even if it’s the day before an exam!” She’s done that, and she’ll keep doing that for him. “You know why! Because my stress hasn’t got anything to do with you! I know how to keep them separate! And if I feel like m’about to unleash it all on you just because you happen to be the one in the room in that moment, I tell you! That I need a minute because I don’t want to blow up on you!”

“I—”

“M’not done!” She yells. “I know exams about child behavior aren’t ever going to be some fancy role in a film but it’s just as important to me! Just as stressful for me! And I don’t shut you out or ignore you as I wait for results!”

She still isn’t done.

“Had a week off right, a a week ago, for Easter. And you spoke a handful of words to me the entire time. For someone who’s always complaining about not seeing me, not being able to take me on holiday…interesting choice of action.”

She still isn’t done, just a bit left.

“M’on your team. Always have been, and you’ve always been on mine. So start acting like it.”

She catches her breath. “M’done now.”

“So what do you want now? What have I got to—”

“I want to turn this light off without you turning it back on. And I want to sleep in here with the cat you haven’t even acknowledged.”

“Gonna sleep alone, in here all night?”

“M’here aren’t I?”

“When m’I gonna fix this then?” He asks worriedly. Because even though he doesn’t exactly how to just yet (he’s dug himself that deep) he still needs to.

“Tomorrow.”

So he’s going to let her sleep here. Even if he absolutely dreads sleeping alone. Might as well not sleep at all. But he’s going to let her. Because from all that she’s been revealing to him, she deserves this all. Some space for herself and for him to feel how that’s like.

He turns the light off so she can get to it.

“Sleep well love,” he kisses her shoulder because he isn’t sure she’ll let him that much. And he does pet the cat, even if it hates him just as much he thinks his girl does. He is soft. “Gonna watch her for me right?” He whispers.

→ → →

It takes Harry a few days to fix it all. With a tool box of things he can think of.

It started with the samosas they like and ended with the carousel at Regent’s Park. (The food fair won’t be back till August.) But he still left his phone at the house and she had to double check and make sure he knew he was doing so.

And somewhere in between it was the mugs as well.

“Got the mugs, the nicer ones from Etsy.” He tells her when she walks into the kitchen.

“We don’t have too many?” She asks.

“Threw some of the boring ones out to make room.” He shrugs taking the orange juice he didn’t want three days ago from the fridge. And he pours some into the mug she bought him as he holds the cat in the other. It tastes just like oranges, and it tastes better than the kind he’s used to. It’s because of the mug and he knows so.

And the cat understands.