I Second This.

i finally watched top gun and now have a new obsession

love this dude

okay i know u were a in a hiatus just some days ago so feel free to ignore this but, i thought of this and for some odd reason it reminded of u and your writing? idk anyway i just thought it would be cute to do something like matching bracelets, or that change your painting every 5 minutes challenge from tiktok or any crafty romantic activities with timothée? it just gives me tiny apartment in paris smoking a cigarette naked in the morning vibes and in my head that’s literally him lol. love ur writing, hope youre doing well beb! <333

Mon Amour || Timothée Chalamet

a/n: i adore this request, u are creative as fuck and allowed in my inbox at anytime lovely :) psa, not my art! those two pics just sort of fit the vibe and the sketch is a reference, i switched up the request just a bit <3 also i listened to la vie en rose by edith piaf while writing, so i feel like it sort of fits the vibe :))

cw: nudity, language, suggestiveness

The white casement windows were slightly ajar, only a few inches above the floor with a bit of space before hitting the ceiling at the top. Through the space you could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance, a light breeze filtering through the small Parisian apartment.

Timothée had purchased it before you’d began dating, but it soon became a home away from home. Between traveling so much and several much needed breaks, you’d both spent a lot of time within the tiny space. It was like a step away from the outside, decorated in a way that could have been easily mistaken for a 90s interior.

Paintings were strung up on the wall, a white blanket skewed over the back of the sage green couch at the forefront of the room. There was no television, only a radio on the windowsill beside the balcony. It was old, lulling the tune to a French theme. The hardwood floor was always like ice in the mornings, clothes thrown all over the ground from the night before.

“Mon doux, mon tendre, mon merveilleux amour—bonjour.”

What a way to wake up, you thought.

Timothée’s voice rasped into your hair, his French accent thick when he fell into it carelessly. It was a good morning you’d never grow tired of, his curls tickling the apples of your cheeks as he leaned into you from his side of the bed. His arm was wrapped around your waist, tightening as you shifted to look at him.

Fortunately, you’d picked up on a bit of the language while staying in France so frequently. Timmy had helped tremendously, teaching you the basics and continuing to show you everyday. You listened to several podcasts in French now, retaining the intricacy of the dialect and articulation.

“Good morning,” you smiled at him.

The white duvet was nearly hanging off the bed, legs intertwined within the milky sheets. You were topless, all but a pair of light pink cotton underwear remaining on your person. He wore a simple pair of grey boxers, hanging low on his hips.

His head was laid on the pillow beside yours, hair spilled across the silk in a mess of dark brown curls. You took a handful of his hair in your hand gently, pushing it out of his face and leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. It was a look you’d never get tired of, his pink cheeks and cluster of small constellations peppering his nose.

The air smelled of sex and vanilla, the hum of music only adding to the ambience. Leaning over to the side table, you planned to pick up your cellphone and snap a quick picture of Timothée. You caught a glimpse of your open sketchbook, though. The tan sheets of paper were littered in drawings, some truly very good.

“Can I draw you?” You asked him, grinning incessantly as he yawned and nodded.

“Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack,” he murmured, referencing the Titanic humorously.

Giggling terribly, you picked up the book and flipped to a clean space. He sat up, leaning back against the headboard and reaching to his own side table. He plucked a cigarette up and stuck it between his lips, lighting the end and inhaling dazedly as you sat up in bed as well.

Going to pluck his white button down off the floor, planning to cover your bare chest, he pulled you back up to him with a shake of the head. You rolled your eyes, leaving your breasts uncovered and maneuvering yourself to straddle his waist.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me,” you smirked, beginning to sketch out the curve of his jaw.

“You’re sitting on top of me naked, of course I’m trying to fucking seduce you,” he chuckled, taking another drag of the cigarette.

A rush of cold air left a shiver down your spine, his hands rubbing up and down your unclothed torso. You shaded around his nose with a charcoal pencil, it was hard to capture just the right angle of his fluttering eyelashes. In the sketch, his eyes were shut and a look of euphoria was dawning on his features.

He cupped your breasts, running the tip of his index finger along the perky bud of your nipple. This earned a slap in the arm from you, shaping his eyebrows and beginning that mess of wild curls. The song had changed, the buzz of another French melody filling the small space.

You leaned forward, letting him stick the cigarette between your lips and taking in a deep breath. With your non-dominant hand, you pulled it from your lips and flicked the ashes into the tray Timothée held out to you. Handing back the remainder of the stick, you finished shading his Adam’s apple and couldn’t help sitting forward a bit.

Bringing your lips to his bobbing throat, you kissed up his jaw and landed on his lips gently. Sitting up, you finished the last of the sketch and initialed the bottom corner to claim the piece of art. Spinning the pad of paper, you put it on display for his to see.

“I love it, mon amour,” he flushed. “But I can guarantee that my view is a lot better. Can I draw you this time?”

“I can think of at least ten other things we could do,” you whispered, setting the sketchbook back down onto the side table.

taglist - @moonythemilf @pradastardust @xxxlaura @ivegotthepetertingle @pogueslandia @peterparkerbae @beneskataa @reddir14 @cowboywrites @l0versstyles

why do i like being sad?

Torn Leaves, Broken Hearts (Tom Holland)

A/N: did anyone order some heartache? no? oh, well…anyways. i genuinely did think this idea would be a quick snap and go but…here it is 24 days later lol. i felt quite emotional writing this but i’m a bit unsure if it will be as heartbreaking for others as it was for me a.k.a if i successfully managed to translate the hurt i actually felt into words. lmao is it obvious i’m not too sure about this fic?? anyhow, i hope you guys still enjoy! ++ trying a slightly new format! is the small text difficult to read?? pls lemme know! <3

》 PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader 》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; fluff; angst 》 SUMMARY: most couples fight, you and Tom weren’t an exception. It started out as an argument, but when Tom lost control of his temper, he just took it a leap too far. 》 WARNINGS: starts very fluffy, loads of plants & planting, few sexual innuendos, soft!supportive!boyfriend!tom, heated make out (very brief), glimpse of carpenter!tom, argument/fight, angry!tom (not in a hot way), temper tantrum (not in a cute way), talks of golf, use of golf club (not in a good way) [i’m sorry in advance, i love golf!tom i promise], emotional/mental breakdown, heartbreaking angst (will vary per person aha), happy/emotional/resolved ending. 》 WORD COUNT: 18.3k+ (at least 5k she said ha what a lie)

✩ TOM HOLLAND MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

“Darling, I’m home!” Tom announced, placing his golf equipment down by the door to then toeing off his shoes. Treading deeper into the house in his sock-clad feet, his brows furrowed, wondering if you, yourself had arrived from work. “Love, you home?”

“Kitchen!”

Tom found you exactly where you said you were, but he was more surprised with the pop of various colors littered on the countertop. He took in the scent that greeted his nostrils, the whole kitchen smelling sweet, a bit citrusy, but all-around fruity.

“Whatcha doin, beautiful?” Tom murmured as he slotted himself behind you, arms snaking around your waist as he placed a tender kiss on your cheek.

You turned your head to look at him with an adorable pout, making Tom chuckle. Gladly obliging to your request, he leaned in for a kiss with a satisfied hum, heart softening, smile widening at the newfound flavor present on your lips.

You tasted like apples.

Keep reading

i’m actually crying. —via @thescarletramirez on tiktok

"YOU HAD SEX WITH JEWEL????"

i just finished narcos and have a javi obsession🫣

Somewhere to start - Chapter II: Lo estoy intentando

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: A few little coincidences give you an opportunity to get to know Javi outside of work.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: Smut, flirting, fingering/mutual touching, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), protected PIV, smoking, forced proximity ish, Spanish translations at the end

Word count: 7k Rating: 18+ AO3

Javi was right. All you needed was, in fact, a refresher for Spanish. With his help, but mostly the textbook and dictionary you've spent your last three weeks worth of evenings with, your Spanish has gotten good enough to where you can read the majority of letters you receive with only a few breaks here and there to pull up the dictionary. 

You’re not telling Javi that, though, because the dumb little crush you have on him makes the words on the paper in front of you turn into an incoherent mess of letters when he’s in the room, and he always spots you looking at it like it’s your first day on the job, smirks a little, goes about his day, then pulls up his chair at five PM, ready to tutor. 

But to your dismay, you show up at work this morning to see Steve sitting in his chair again, back from Miami. Show’s over you think to yourself as you say hi to him and Javi, walking past them to find yourself a new desk in the corner of the room. You unpack your things and brainstorm, trying to think up another way to innocently flirt with Javi now that these Spanish lessons have nowhere to take place, not with the two agents working overtime most days, leaving Javi with no time for you and your stupid little problems. 

“Looks like we’ll have to move your tutoring session today,” you hear Javi say before pulling up next to you and leaning against your desk with his arms folded, subtly tilting his head towards Steve. It quickly dawns on you that he’s taking time out of his day for you, even now that he’s likely busy again, and it makes your heart race. “I’ll take my lunch break at noon, meet you here then?” he suggests, and you feel yourself perspire from his attention on you, dark brown eyes tracking your every move and looking straight into your eyes when you smile, shyly saying suena bien and try not to blush. 

-

“Nos ha llamado la atención” he says, tracing the words on the letter with his index finger, then looks up at you, “Dime lo que dije”. You look at him, blink a few times, look down at the letter again, narrow your eyes and try to gesture at your confusion. “Tell me what I said” he repeats, and you give him a sheepish smile, shrugging carefully. 

He tilts your chin up and whispers, “Gotta pay closer attention”, before his eyes flick down to your lips for just a split second, and back up. You can feel your face getting hot, hoping and praying you’re not visibly blushing as you look into his eyes. 

His hand is still under your chin, and he spreads his fingers to grasp your jaw and gently turn your face to the paper. “What does this sentence mean?” he asks again, and points to the top of the letter. “Th-.. Uhh” you stutter and look up at him again. 

He chuckles a little, looks up and down your face, and chews on the inside of his lip for a second before he gets up and takes a few steps over to a bookshelf, pulling out a dictionary and tossing it onto the table with a loud thud. “Look it up” he says and snaps his fingers before he sits back down, and you follow his orders, flipping through the pages and finding each word one by one, writing them all down in your notebook. 

“It’s been brought to our attention” you say slowly as you look at your notes, “Nos ha llamado la atención, nos ha llamado la atención”. You turn your head up and look at him, repeating the sentence, “Nos ha llamado la atención”. 

“Muy bien” he says with a smile, and watches you as you use the dictionary to translate the next sentence, picking up a few words you recognize from the previous lesson. 

-

You’re not entirely sure why Javi had to move your tutoring session, considering it’s five PM now and he’s still sitting at his desk, pouring over some documents, but you figure he has his reasons, not point in trying to prod. Everyone else has left and you're still there, all other offices are dark and empty, but you still have a stack of documents to go through before you can think about going home for the night, knowing more will pile up tomorrow. 

How is there so much paperwork? You can’t help but wonder if maybe you really are here just to file, if there truly are this many letters coming in that need to be read and sorted. It still doesn’t make a lot of sense no matter how you spin it. Why don't they have an intern? You look up when a thought strikes you - you probably didn't read the contract and now you’re actually a fucking intern and you just didn’t realize until now cause you spaced out so hard looking at that guy’s hairline. Shit.

“Come on, let’s go get something to eat” you hear Javi say, startling you a little and snapping you back from your thought spiral. He stands up and you stay seated, your head tilted up at him and your brows knitted in disbelief. “Now?” you ask, and point to the documents in front of you. “This is your work I'm doing, if you didn’t realize”. 

“Exactly” he says, pulling his blazer off the back of the chair before snatching the pen from your hand and tossing it onto the table, “It can wait”. You look at the letter in front of you, still not having much of a clue what it says, and slowly shake your head. 

“Javi..” you sigh. “I really need to get this done, it’ll just be another..”, you look at your watch and feel defeated already, “Hour, maybe?”. “You’re gonna stay here till almost six, unpaid?” he asks with narrowed eyes and a condescending smile. “I guess..” is all you have in response. 

“You don’t even know what that letter says”, he points to the document on the desk before folding his arms, his face full of amusement. “Yes, I do, Javi” you argue, knowing it’s a lie and that you’ve been staring at it for twenty minutes, a sudden influx of new words you couldn’t seem to familiarize yourself with flooding the page. “Tell me then” he says and raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side and waiting for you. 

You groan and squint at the paper, making out a few words but not nearly enough to figure out the sentence. “It’s something about a meeting, next week, with the ambassador” you say with your hands at your sides, shrugging a little. He cranes his neck for a second to look at the paper. “It’s about the embassy’s janitorial services” he says, dryly yet amused. 

You close your eyes and try to gather the will to argue, to translate, to work - to do anything, really. You glance around the room and, in the corner of your eye, you can see him put his hands flat on your desk next to you and lean over, hovering close to you. “Stop fighting me on this” he whispers, and you tilt your head up, catching his gaze.

You both stay like that for a few moments, half a smile tugging at the corner of his lip and you struggling to resist his coaxing. He glances down at your lips, then quickly looks back up, “Let me do something nice, you’ve done all this filing for me and I feel bad”

Then he tilts his head towards the door, stands up and straightens his jacket, and you scoot the chair back with a screeching sound before you rise, pushing off the armrests and looking at him unamused as you grab your bag and follow him out of the office. 

-

“What are you in the mood for?” he asks as you stand next to the cash register, looking at the menu and understanding all the words but getting so distracted by the scent of Javi’s cologne that you can’t think. “Surprise me” you say with a smile, what an amazing save, and he orders for you while you gaze at his side profile, lips parted and eyes wide. He looks so good in that collared, white t-shirt that it should be illegal. 

“So,” he says, interrupting himself to take a drag from his cigarette while he watches you take the last few bites of  your food, his already inhaled while you rambled about your life the past seven years and asked for advice on how to feel like less of an idiot at the embassy and in a new country. “What made you decide to work in.. Filing et cetera after all that time in school?” 

“I didn't decide” you say, covering your mouth and huffing a laugh with your mouth full, “I applied for a few jobs at the embassy, interviewed, they said I’d get one of three jobs”. You swallow and push your hair back over your shoulder, straightening a little in your chair. “And then, two weeks before I was moving, they told me I’d be doing admin work.. But I’d already made all the arrangements, you know? I gave up my apartment, took all these Spanish classes, bought plane tickets.. The embassy had already gotten an apartment for me. Figured it was better than staying in my hometown, even if I was just doing ‘filing etcetera’ as you so nicely put it”. 

He looks at you and nods as you talk, takes a drag and flicks off the ashes as he casts his gaze down for a second. “Angelina’s gonna get fired” he says, and looks off into the distance before his eyes flick back to yours. “The advisor?” you ask, vaguely remembering a woman in a pants suit you think might be her. 

“Mhm”, he takes one last drag and stumps the cigarette, “You're probably here to take over for her”. Your eyes shift a little side to side, and you can’t quite make sense of the very straightforward sentence he just uttered. “Why is she getting fired?” you ask, feeling like you shouldn’t even be privy to this information at all. 

He takes a breath and leans back, throwing his arm over the chair next to him, frowns and shrugs a little before he answers. “Doesn’t really give a shit about her job and it shows.. Nothing gets done in her department, always late, constant complaints lodged against her”. 

“Why me, though?” you question, genuinely baffled by his theory, “I’m just a lowly.. Office-admin-paper-person, I don’t know..”. He leans forward and over the table, scanning your face up and down, “Do you think they'd send some idiot down here and pay for their apartment, just so they can run around sorting letters for god knows how long, doing shit Murphy and I should be doing?”. He pauses for a second and tilts his head, “Come on”. 

There’s no fucking way, you think. Sure, you have the qualifications, you had an interview for an adjacent job that went well. Very well, actually, so well you were sure you’d gotten the job until the admin bomb was dropped on you and you assumed a better fit had suddenly swooped in and they changed their minds last minute. Why would they suddenly want you for this?

“How do you know? How-”, you shake your head a little and lean in, “Are you supposed to know that?”. “I can tell” he answers and clears his throat, “I sit in meetings with her and people from her department all the time. She’s had two strikes and they’re waiting for a third so she can get canned, simple as that”.  

Your eyes dart around the room a little, across the chairs and tables in the restaurant, the other customers, the trees outside blowing in the wind. Javi's eyes are on you the entire time, but he doesn’t say anything until your gaze travels back to him again. “Ambassador will want someone to take over immediately and”, he turns his hands a little, gesturing towards you, “There you are”. 

“Why me?” you ask with a grimace, waiting for a serious, legitimate reason you’d suddenly be getting this job, this much better job, more demanding and better paid, actually challenging, with real responsibilities. He chuckles a little and looks between your eyes, studies you a little. “You're capable, intelligent, organized” he says, “Good at talking to people, have your shit together.. Why not you?”

You don’t get the opportunity to answer before the waitress comes by and drops the check on the table. You reach over and grab it, earning you a dirty look from Javier. “You’re not paying” he says, almost condescendingly but with a hint of a laugh, and rips the check out of your hand. 

You roll your eyes, mutter thanks, Javi and lift your hand to your cheek, rest your elbow on the table and look out of the window, onto the street, while he pays for dinner. He drives you back to the embassy and you say goodnight, lingering for a little in front of the door to your car, him standing close to you, until someone drives into the empty parking lot and he takes a step back. You smile and get in, about to put your key in the ignition when it suddenly hits you that there’s a planned power outage in your building this week. 

Not this week, today. 

It also hits you that you got a notice regarding the outage under your door last week and had spent the evening translating it. You lean your forehead into the steering wheel and sit there for a few seconds, trying to figure out whether you should get a hotel somewhere for the night, when you’re startled by a tapping on the window, and you turn to see Javi standing outside. 

You roll your window down and he leans into the door, bending over until he’s nearly eye level with you as you shake your head and tell him about the outage. “Stay at my place tonight,” he says and taps the door, “We’ll go to yours and get your stuff, then I’ll drive you to and from work tomorrow”. You lean into the steering wheel again, weighing your options, but realize this is probably the safest, regardless of how inappropriate it might be. 

Javi unlocks the door to his apartment and nods for you to walk in first, and your eye is immediately caught by the large windows in his living room as well as the sizable balcony stretching from one corner to the other. “You have a balcony!” you exclaim, realizing you sound way too excited, and even though it’s dark out, you pad over to the glass and peer through it, looking at the city lights. 

“Yup” you hear him say, equal parts amused and confused. “Man,” you say as you keep staring out, “All I see from my place is trees, tops of buildings and flashing lights from restaurants on the street, not all this”. Javi gets on the couch and flips the TV on, clicking through the channels and landing on some sort of show while you look out of the window for another minute, then coming over to him and sitting down. 

“Free Spanish lesson” he says and glances at you, and you roll your eyes before turning to the screen and trying to understand what’s going on. You get comfortable after a while and find yourself understanding more and more, only catching Javi occasionally looking at you from a few feet away, out of the corner of your eye. An hour or so goes by before you start to yawn and look at the time, and Javi is quick to say that you can have his bed and he’ll sleep on the couch. 

“No, no” you say, waving your hand, “Don’t make me feel like a burden, Javi, I’m totally comfortable sharing your bed if you don’t mind it”. He tilts his head a little side to side, trying to look like he’s mulling it over. “If you insist” he says and flips the TV off, then helping you up and showing you where the bathroom is. You grab your toiletries and a t-shirt from your bag and head in to get ready for bed, listening to Javi brush his teeth in the kitchen sink while you quietly peek around in his cabinets a little, just to see if there’s anything interesting to find - which there unfortunately isn’t. 

Javi is already in bed, bare chested and stretching his arms when you come out of the bathroom. You smile shyly, walking around to the other side, unable to ignore his eyes following you as you slip into the sheets a respectful distance away from him. Two feet, maybe, it’s a pretty big bed after all, much too big for just one person. 

“Thanks for letting me stay over” you say, pulling up the blanket and sweeping your hair up over the pillow, trying not to look at him, knowing that the awareness of him laying next to you, both of you half naked, will keep you up for hours if you think about it too hard. 

If you think just a little too much about what he might be like in bed. How we might use his hands and lips and tongue on you, how he might feel inside you. You try to quiet your thoughts, try to breathe through your mouth so you don't feel yourself getting wet from his proximity. “Anytime” he groans and reaches over to turn the lamp on the nightstand off, “Sweet dreams”. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and lay completely still in the quiet, dark bedroom, trying to ignore the ache between your legs that rises every time you inhale and smell his cologne on the blanket right below your nose. You push it down a little, wrap it tightly around your chest, and you cool off for a second before you feel him shifting next to you and he throws his arm over his head. 

A whiff hits you as he groans quietly and settles - an unmistakable, masculine, musky whiff coming from under his arm, the inevitable sweat from merely existing in Bogotá combined with the cologne that’s been developing on his skin under the suit, which is already intoxicating enough without the added pheromones, making your core tighten at the scent.  

“I haven’t had sex in ten months” you suddenly whisper, and you wince as the words leave your mouth. How the fuck did that make it past the filter? A silence follows, and you’re not quite sure whether you prefer for him to have heard you or not. 

“Wha-, sorry, did you say something?” he murmurs. “I said I haven't had sex in ten months” you repeat, admitting defeat and feeling your heart thumping. “Is this-”, you can hear him shifting towards you but you look at the ceiling, unwilling to make eye contact. “Are you.. trying.. to seduce me?” he asks, sounding amused. 

“Javi..” you mutter, and he can probably sense how hard you’re rolling your eyes at him. “Worth a shot” he says, and you can tell he’s moments away from laughing. “I’m just telling you in case I crawl on you in my sleep or something”, you say, surrendering your hands with your eyes still closed, “Don't- don’t take it personally”. There’s another bout of silence, and you can feel your heartbeat all the way down in your stomach.

“Why don't you just.. Crawl on me now then,” he suggests softly, “Won’t matter if you do it in your sleep if you’re already here”. You don’t answer his question out loud, but you scoot over to him and lay your head on his chest, taking a deep breath and getting overwhelmed by the scent of him, making you jerk your hips a little and throw your leg over his to hide your reaction.

“Don’t take this personally” he mocks, and reaches around to lay his hand on your back, starting to stroke the skin that's been exposed from your t-shirt riding up as you shifted around. You lay still for a while, or what seems like a while, feeling his warm palm stroking you soothingly and molding to the curves of your back as you relax into his chest, inching your pelvis a little closer to him, noticing your panties make contact with his boxers, and trying to brush it off as just shifting around. 

His hand lowers a little, sweeps down to your lower back and keeps gently rubbing. You whimper a little at the touch and hope he didn’t hear it, but his hand stills at the noise, right above the waistband of your panties. You close your eyes again and try to somehow reel in your aching for more, take back the wetness that already soaked your panties and at this point is most likely dampening the fabric of his boxers. Hopefully he can’t feel it. 

He squeezes a little and your hips roll in response, your breath hitches, and you ask yourself where your self control went when you suddenly feel his hand wrap around your jaw before your head is tilted up, his lips meet yours, and he’s kissing you, parting your lips and licking into your mouth. Fuck, he's a good kisser.

Your hand quickly leaves his chest and your fingers find his curls, tugging at them and hearing him groan. His hand slips down, your thong getting caught between his fingers, and he pulls the lace covered string down until he reaches the swell of your ass. He covers as much of it as he can with his large hand, uses his grip on your flesh to move you subtly, pulling you up and pushing you back down so your clit drags against the wet fabric of your panties that have absolutely leaked onto his boxers by now.

Another whimper escapes, this one long and drawn out, into his mouth. “Let's take these off” he whispers, and you nod in response while he traces the top of your panties, making you shiver when his fingers pass below your belly button. He hooks two fingers into the strap and moves his hand a little back and forth again, brushing the back of his fingers along your hip. 

Your eyes have gotten used to the dark now, and the light coming in through those pesky venetian blinds illuminate him just enough to where you can watch him as he slides your panties down your legs, tosses them off the side of the bed, and comes back with a hand going up your shirt as he leans down to kiss you again. 

His palm brushes up against your firm nipple and he hums in acknowledgement, retracting his hand to bunch up your shirt and pull it over your head. “I gotta see this” he mutters and turns on the lamp on his bedside table, casting a warm light all over the bed, allowing you to see how intensely he’s looking at you. You could never get tired of those eyes on you. 

He lets his hand drag down your side as he licks and kisses along the side of your neck, takes in your curves, travels all the way down, as far as he can reach, and squeezes your flesh. He watches your eyes as he traces up your inner thigh, stops right at the apex, and ghosts his fingertips along your slit, seeing how your lips part and your eyes widen. 

“Ten months, huh?”, his voice is so raspy, so deep and dark, and it reverberates through your entire body when he speaks, “That’s a long time”. “Yeah” you whisper with a hint of a laugh. “You wanna keep that streak going or?” he asks smugly with his eyes trained on your lips. “Does it seem like I do?” you respond breathlessly, still half smiling. 

“Not really” he says, and plunges one finger deep into you. The moan you let you is embarrassingly loud and desperate, and he chuckles in response. “Fucking tight, though, huh?” he mutters while working in another finger. He slides them in and out, pausing deep inside you to curl them at the spot where you want him the most, your slick running down along his fingers and into his palm, and he kisses and bites your lower lip as you moan into him, unable to close your mouth. 

The sensation of his thick fingers is overwhelming after nearly a year of trying and failing to reach the crevice he’s so effortlessly rubbing now. “So good, Javi, so good” you whimper into his mouth, nipples hardening and pussy throbbing, desperately needing release. Then he kisses along your jaw and down your neck while he listens to your little noises, pushing his clothed erection into the side of your thigh. 

You pull at his waistband and he moves to retract his fingers, soaked and dripping, pulling his soft pajama pants off with one hand. You glance over as he leans down again and returns his fingers to your opening, slipping inside and curling. The blanket has slid off, down to the mattress, and he’s laying completely bare while his cock lightly bobs from how hard he is. 

He lets you take him in, pressing a kiss to your forehead while you stare at him, at the wet head, precome leaking from the slit and threatening to drip down, a few thick veins running from the tip, down his overwhelming length, reaching the thick base, covered by soft, brown hair. “Like what you see?” you hear him murmur against your hairline, and he chuckles a little when you nod. “Yeah” you say softly, and he hums a little before tilting your head back and continuing to place kisses along your neck. 

You reach your hand towards him as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out, landing on his stomach and sliding further and further down till your fingers comb through the patch of hair above his shaft and finally circle around him. You can’t even reach all the way around, and you gasp at the realization, dragging your fingers up to catch his precome, slick your hand and start stroking. 

The stifled moan he lets out as he licks the underside of your jaw sends shivers through you, and you can feel your clit swelling, so achy and sensitive. Your hand is getting slicker as more precome keeps dribbling out of him, turning you on even more and making you louder until he shushes you with a kiss, his tongue reaching deep into your mouth and your shared spit smearing across your lips. He retracts his fingers and licks off your juices as he looks at you, not letting you glance away. 

“Quiero comerte” he mutters to himself, “Taste so fucking good”. He shifts around so he's on his stomach between your thighs, and you notice a worry creeping up when you realize what he’s about to give you. “Should I maybe shower first?” you ask with concern, leaning back on your elbows and trying to close your legs, pushing against his hands holding you open “Sorry I’m so sweaty, I didn’t-”.

“Nah, baby, nothing to apologize for” he says with a calm smile, his eyes burning with desire, “Want you just like this”. And with that, he grabs your hips, pulls you closer to him and hooks his fingers over your thighs to spread you apart. You squeeze your eyes shut and dread his reaction to your scent and taste, your pussy having marinated in sweat all day under the soft fabric of your panties, the heat outside making it impossible not to come home with your inner layer of clothing soaked. 

He runs his hand up your inner thigh and pauses, uses his thumb to carefully pull your soft pussy lip to the side, and you tense with self consciousness as he gently opens you for him and runs his tongue up along one side, licking up all your accumulated sweat and gently brushing your clit when he reaches the top. He gives it a slow lick, almost like a wet kiss, and you moan softly, holding your breath.

You feel the vibrations of him groaning against your skin as he shifts to the other side, splays his hand across your inner thigh and pushes his tongue under your outer lip, dragging all the way from your opening and to your clit again, licking up a combination of sweat from the day and slick from him fingering you. 

He looks up across your body and waits for you to open your eyes, and you meet his gaze right as he covers your slit with his tongue and drags it up, kisses your clit softly, nips at your folds, then licks the crevice between your mound and inner thigh. Your breathing is shallow and your head is empty, all your attention occupied by the throbbing sensation deep within you, and your clit aching to be rubbed and licked until you come. 

He makes his way back, swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud and gives it a suckle, then dives down to push his tongue into your opening so far his nose is touching your clit, a soft whimper escaping you and your chest lifting, rewarded by his dark eyes tracking yours when he comes back up and sucks your clit up into his mouth, flicks at it, increasing the pressure as he squeezes your thighs and you fist the sheets on either side of your head.

“J-Javi, I’m gonna- ” you moan, breathlessly and soft, and he raises an eyebrow, maintaining his pace, covering your clit with his saliva, rolling his tongue and suckling while your own arousal leaks out of you. “I'm gonna come, I-ah” your sentence trails off as you come apart under him, walls pulsing and clenching, back arching off the mattress and your eyes rolling back as your mouth hangs open, gasping for air. 

He gently licks until your back hits the mattress, then kisses along your inner thigh and comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand and kiss your neck. “Get on top of me, baby” he whispers, his breath hot over your skin, giving you goosebumps. He sits up and shifts back, leaning against the headboard and watching you pull off your t-shirt as he reaches into his nightstand and grabs a condom, looking at you as he rips it with his teeth. You stare down at his cock, mouth half open and borderline watering as he rolls the latex down and and gestures for you to come to him. 

You shuffle over on your knees and he holds his cock up for you to sit on it, reaches out his other hand to wrap around your waist and pulls you closer. He tilts his head up and gazes at your lips, and you kiss him while you lower onto his length, whimpering against his mouth as he fills you. “La tienes tan dura” he mutters to himself, under his breath, and you gasp a little. “Javi” you scold and smack his chest with the back of your hand, interrupted by your breath hitching again at the sensation of his tip reaching the very end of you. “So you understand that but not what's relevant to your job, hm?”, he shakes his head in disapproval, “Dirty girl”. 

You roll your eyes a little, starting to wind your hips up and down, feel his hands running up and down your back and over your ass, while his cock fills you and rubs the sensitive little spot deep inside you. “You look so pretty all stretched out, mi amor” he says, grasping your jaw and neck with one hand and bringing your face close to his so he can lick inside your mouth and nibble at your bottom lip while he grunts and thrusts up into you, reaching the very end of your pussy. 

He keeps kissing the corner of your mouth, the underside of your jaw, your neck and your chest as you moan incoherently, tighten your core and roll your hips, feeling your clit rubbing against him and your eyes rolling back. His hips move with yours, pushing his length all the way into you, massaging your walls just right. You look down at him and he angles your head down so that your faces are almost touching. You pant into each other’s mouths and he starts smiling, picking up his pace just a little, holding your jaw and forcing you to look him in the eyes while you moan and squirm, your head cleared of all thoughts, your sole focus on how good he feels inside you. 

He leans over and grabs the pack of smokes on his nightstand, effortlessly slipping out a cigarette with one hand, sticking it between his lips and picking up the lighter, all while keeping one eye on you, as you lean back with your hands on his knees and move your hips. "You're enjoying yourself too much, cariño" he says, slightly muffled, and lights up while clicking his tongue, "Should’ve known you'd take advantage of my kindness". He groans as he throws the lighter back onto the nightstand and takes a drag, exhaling up and to the right while he gazes at you. 

You huff a laugh as you watch him through half closed lids, distracted by how he’s filling you to the brim, how his free hand squeezes the flesh of your ass so firmly it almost hurts a little, and his eyes follow your hips as they lift up, high enough for him to see part of his length slide out before it disappears into you again. 

“Fuck yourself on it” he says and takes another drag, “I have to take a timeout, you look way too good on my dick”. He exhales, and leaves the cig in his mouth so he has both hands free, running them down your thighs before throwing one arm over the headrest and leaning over towards the opposite side to flick the ash off into the small ceramic tray. You can barely hear what he’s saying, too overwhelmed by his size still stretching out your hole and putting pressure on your cervix, the movement of his hips burying him so deeply in your cunt you're unable to think straight. 

“Can tell you're close, angel” he coos, his voice sounding buttery smooth as he grabs your hand and brings it to your core, “Can you come for me?”. He returns his hand to your hip, and you follow his lead, licking the pads of your index and ring fingers then bringing them down to start circling your clit, feeling your stomach tightening and his tip nudging your most sensitive spot when he pulls you further down into his lap. 

He brings his hand up to carefully grasp your breast, smoothing his thumb over your sensitive nipple in circular motions, pushing you closer to your release as you look up at the ceiling and feel it starting to take over your lower half. You hear him grunting, breathing heavily, and feel his tongue on your nipple, licking and sucking it while you ride him.

It feels like he’s prodding at every nerve in your body as his hand on your back holds you close to him and your most sensitive areas are being stimulated, and you need to come so bad you could cry. “Javi, fuck” you moan in an uncharacteristically high pitch, your voice straining to get a single word out as you tumble over the edge, clenching down on him and digging your hips as far into him as possible. He pulls back, raises an eyebrow and smirks, calmly observing as you arch your back while you ride the waves of your orgasm. 

“So beautiful” he says and puts out the cigarette, kissing between your breasts while you come down. He places one hand on your back and lifts your thigh with the other, crossing his legs under you so he can lift up to his knees and lay you down on the mattress, his cock still fully sheathed inside you as he settles between your legs. “How do you feel?” he murmurs and noses your neck. “So good” you whisper while you push your heel into his spine, and he slips both arms under your knees, lifting your ass up into the air. 

He fucks you so deeply your hands shoot out to grab the front of his knees, preventing him from pushing in any further. Your back arches when you hear him moan, opening your eyes to see his face scrunched and his mouth half open, his gaze roving over your body as he grabs your thighs and pulls you back, letting your ankles rest on his shoulders. He pounds into you, hitting your g-spot with overwhelming speed, your moans getting more and more desperate until his thrusts slow and he growls with each one, burying himself in you for one final push, holding your hips and looking at you while he comes with a rough moan.  

He leans over you, lowering down onto his elbows to kiss your lips, then your jaw, then your neck, and eventually your chest, before he pulls out with a groan and discards the condom, pulling you up and onto him as he settles back against the headboard. 

-

“Let’s air the room out a little” he says with a laugh as he puts on his boxers, then picks up a cigarette, nodding towards the door. He waits for you to put on your shirt and panties, takes your hand and guides you out of his bedroom through the kitchen and out onto the balcony you were looking at earlier. 

He lights up as you lean over the railing and look down onto the street, comparing the view from his apartment to the view from yours. “Tutoring on Thursday?” you ask as you stand back up. “You only want me for sex” Javi says and rolls his eyes, “This is all just a ruse, baby”. 

“Javi…” you murmur softly. “Don't patronize me” he says, making you giggle. Nodding at the cigarette in his hand, you look up at him with a raised brow, “You mind?”. He gives it to you and you take a drag, exhaling slowly as you look out onto the city and feel his eyes on you. “I've learned a lot” you say, still looking out. 

“Yeah?” he asks and snakes his hand around your waist. “Mhm.. It's fun”, you look at him, not quite smiling but at the very least looking amused. “That’s good” he says, and pushes his hand into your back so you stumble into him and he kisses you, slowly and tenderly, taking back the cigarette and flicking the ash off. “You're a good teacher” you purr while watching him take a puff. “Lo estoy intentando, hm?”, he exhales. 

You look at him and blink a few times, feeling dumb. “I’m trying” he whispers with narrowed eyes and pushes your hair back over your shoulder, tilting his head a little. You roll your eyes at yourself, “People really lodge formal complaints about Angelina?”. He looks down at your chest for a moment while his hand slips down to squeeze your cheek, before he keeps talking. “You translated one, so..” he says and shrugs, “You tell me”. 

“I did?”, you grimace and try to remember what little you gathered during that lesson, too damn distracted to even read English. “Yeah, first lesson” he says, and watches you with amusement, “Or were you not paying attention?”. You giggle and tilt your head, biting your tongue between your front teeth, “Might’ve been a bit distracted”. 

“Fair enough” he concedes, then takes a drag, “I’m looking forward to her being out, hate to say it”. He exhales out into the air and you admire his side profile, watching as his eyes narrow and his gaze follows the lights from an airplane in the distance. “Is she that bad?” you finally ask.

“Nightmare.. You prepared for the amount of Spanish you'll have to know to take over?”, he looks back at you, and moves his hand back up to the small of your back, spreading out his fingers to hold you steady while he pulls you a little closer. “What” you say, not even as a question. 

“There's gonna be a decent amount”, he smirks while taking another drag. You look unamused as you snatch the cigarette back, leaning back into his hand. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve just been tutoring me so I can take over for her sooner and you don't have to deal with her shit?”. Javi tilts his head and looks at you, leaning in for a kiss you dodge, and he laughs at your disapproval. 

“Positive side effect, you could say..”, his gaze holds you hostage as you try to look annoyed, “But mostly I don't mind helping a damsel in distress such as yourself”. “Damsel in distress” you mutter, rolling your eyes and slapping his arm. “Nah,” he chuckles, “I like you, why wouldn't I wanna help?”. He looks at your lips, then your eyes, brushing his thumb along your skin. “I like you too” you say, biting back a smile. You gaze at each other for a moment, before you get shy and peek over the railing while he runs his hand up and down your back. “Seeing anything interesting?” he asks. “Eh,” you shrug, “Not really.”

-

Nos ha llamado la atención = It has caught our attention

Dime lo que dije = Tell me what I said 

Quiero comerte =  Want to eat you

La tienes tan dura = You get me so hard 

Lo estoy intentando = I try

Harry at the Berlin listening party via Sony Germany

i love this so much

Just the Two of Us

i've been doing a lot of asks recently, so here's a concept straight from my brain. it's very, very long. enjoy!!

Harry Styles was a thorn in your side.

You didn't even really know him, you knew of him. Both of you worked at the same boat tour company, but thankfully you gave tours on different boats. So why did he irk you so much?

Well, he was insanely attractive, for one, but he knew it and had no qualms using it to lure unsuspecting tourists into his charming little trap.

It really wasn't any of your business, and he wasn't even a tour guide on your boat, but you'd catch him sometimes if your trips happened to come into the dock at the same time, and you'd have to watch him shamelessly flirt with girls (and the occasional boy if the mood struck him). You'd have to watch as these tourists threw themselves at him, practically begging for his attention, and he was more than happy to give it to them. This was a job, not a bar, and Harry was just so smug about his popularity with tourists your age, and it was just so—

"Annoying! He drives me crazy, Paige," you said, falling backwards onto your little sister's bed.

She looked up from behind her book. You could only see the top half of her face, but that was all you needed to see to know she was grinning. "You know, for someone who hates the guy, you sure do talk about him a lot."

"Oh please. That is not what this is. People vent about the people they work with all the time."

Paige shrugged. "If you say so."

"I do say so," you said, narrowing your eyes at her.

You thought she'd let it go. You certainly had. The implication that you were...were interested in Harry was vomit-inducing. He was a player, and he did nothing to hide it. He used his tan, his muscles, his dark curly hair, his stupidly charming and dimpled smile to his advantage. You typically weren't the kind to harp on people's sexual activity, but getting a front row seat to Harry's flirting was exhausting.

"It's okay if you're, like, attracted to him, you know," Paige said, her eyes not once leaving her book.

"Paige!"

"What? He's hot. It's like a scientific fact."

You nudged your sister's knee with your foot. "You are fifteen. Stay far, far away."

"And you're twenty-three. You should definitely strike while the iron is hot, live a little," she said, closing her book and setting it down.

"I have lived. I've done plenty of living."

"I know, but ever since you came home, you haven't. I don't want to be the reason you don't have fun anymore. I mean, when was the last time you picked up a—"

"Paige," you said, sitting up on the bed to look at her better. "I don't regret being here. You're my sister. I'd do anything for you."

She played with the book's cover, not looking you in the eye. "I just feel guilty sometimes. You were living your life, and I—"

"You needed help." Patting the spot next to you on the bed, you urged Paige to sit next to you. Sighing, she got up from her beanbag chair and plopped down next to you. When she was settled, you let her rest her head on your shoulder. "I don't regret being here, Paigey."

"I know."

Your parents disappeared a few years ago, not that they did much when they were present. When you lived at home, Paige was your responsibility, and you took it on like any other challenge. You helped her with her schoolwork, you made her Halloween costumes, you took her to Father/Daughter dances. In your eyes, you were a family of two, and your parents were kind of just tenants living in your home.

And then opportunity struck. When you weren't raising Paige, you were competing in local surf competitions. And winning. After graduating high school, you were offered a sponsorship and invited to tour the world to compete. You initially turned the offer down, knowing you couldn't leave Paige behind. And perhaps it was selfish of you, but you really really wanted to go, so when Paige insisted that you go and live your dream, you did, but not before sitting your parents down and laying into them about how they needed to change their behavior or you would take Paige and never look back. And maybe that's what you should've done in the first place.

But things were good at first. You checked in on Paige constantly, flew home when you could, and even got Paige on a plane to visit you wherever you were when you could. Your parents were marginally better, but you would still send checks directly to Paige and not them, and paying bills from different time zones.

Were you surprised when you got a call from Paige's school saying that apparently your parents had been AWOL for weeks? Yes, but only because you thought Paige would tell you something like that and she didn't.

So you hung up your board and flew home, and had been taking care of Paige ever since. That was two years ago, and things were fine. You made enough money to get by, and even more saved up during the off-season for tourism. Paige sometimes voiced her concerns about you, but you were telling the truth when you said you didn't regret coming home. She was your first and only priority.

"Hey, what do you say to playing hookie tomorrow? I'll give you a marine biology lesson in person," you said. You didn't do it often, but sometimes you decided that Paige needed a life lesson and not an academic lesson, so you took her out with you on a day of snorkel watching tours around the Channel Islands.

You couldn't see her, but you could tell she was smiling. "You just need an extra set of hands again."

There was also that.

"Maybe, but it'll still be fun. And I'll give you some of my tips," you pressed. You gave her a small allowance, but she liked making a little money of her own too.

"Fine, but only because I know I'll get to see Harry at some point. Maybe I should see if he needs a hand."

It was a joke, obviously. One she knew would make you react a certain way. And you did.

"Gross, Paige. Stick to obsessing over boybands and teen vampires or whatever," you said, standing up from her bed.

You wished her a good night, then left her room, cleaning the house up a bit as you went. When you finally settled down for sleep, your thoughts were plagued by green eyes and dimples and colorful swimtrunks that complimented tan skin. Groaning, you put your pillow over your head, waiting for the torture to end.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A week later you were at the marina, cleaning up the little speedboat you took tourists out on, you enjoyed the silence and sunrise. It was peaceful, a little chilly, but peaceful. At this hour, it was just you, your docked boat, and the ocean.

And then your peace was shattered by footsteps, footsteps headed towards you.

"Oh God," you muttered when you saw who it was. It was Harry and your boss Jackson.

"Boss" was a bit of an overstatement. He ran the snorkel tour service that you worked at, but he was also a close family friend. He was the one who taught you how to surf. He caught you wandering the beach one day when you were seven. You were an angry little thing, and skittish, like a stray dog. You were used to looking out for yourself, you trusted no one but yourself, and when Jackson came up to you, you were seconds away from scratching and kicking.

But he kept his distance and just tossed you a board. He didn't say much, only muttering how to paddle and duck dive and eventually push yourself up. It took a long time to trust him, but heeventually became someone important to you, someone you leaned on for help from time to time, especially when Paige was born.

Jackson wasn't like a father to you, you didn't want one of those. He was more like an eccentric uncle, one who promised to look after you and hooked you up with a job when you came home.

"Hey, Jack," you said, completely ignoring the man next to him.

"Y/n," he said. To this day, Jackson was a man of very few words. "Listen, I—"

"You're not gonna greet me?" Harry asked. He was grinning, like the fact that you didn't greet him brought him immense pleasure.

Not missing a beat, you looked at him briefly. "Hi. You were saying, Jack?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head, but Jack ignored it and continued. "Callie is out with a torn ACL and Gordon is doing relief work in South America, so we have to downsize this season. Harry's with you."

"What?"

"Try not to act so excited, Princess," Harry said, a very satisfied smile on his face. "I do happen to be one of Santa Cruz's best tour guides."

"Says who?"

"Almost everyone who comes aboard my boat."

Even that sounded dirty. "Was that before or after you slept with them?" you muttered.

Harry didn't even seem offended by your jab, only more amused. But before he could say anything else, Jackson cut in. "Okay, that's enough. What's done is done, Y/n. Let him help you prep."

He walked off before you could do anything, and then you were alone with him. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. "No, no. Ground rules before you try to hit on me. Which, rule number one: no hitting on me."

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Princess. You're not even my type," he said, but as he was saying it, he'd looked you up and down twice, his eyes zeroeing in on your chest.

Crossing your arms, you leaned against the boat. "Right. Rule number two: no little nicknames. And three: no flirting on my boat—"

"Your boat?" he asked, holding back a laugh.

"Yes. My boat. And on my boat, we don't flirt with the tourists. Got it?"

"Are you going to let me on your boat anytime soon? Or are we just going to sit around talking about your rules?" Harry's arms were crossed now too, but he still looked like you were entertaining him rather than setting boundaries. Instead of answering, you just raised your brows at him. With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, he said, "Yes, I got it. I didn't realize you were such a prude."

"Not a prude. Professional," you corrected, but his words struck a chord with you. You weren't a prude, not really, you were just careful, responsible. When you were on your own, traveling with all the other surfers, you were carefree, maybe even a little wild. But Paige didn't need carefree and wild, she needed steady and reliable, something your parents never were.

"Look, just—just no checking me out, alright?"

Harry shrugged. "Easy."

He said it like it was so easy, but you knew better. "I mean it, Styles. If you so much as dip your eyes below my chin, I will push you off this boat and leave you in the middle of the ocean."

His responding grin was slow, the dimples in his cheeks deep. "You got it. Now, what time is our first trip?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry Styles was a pain in your ass.

You didn't think he would listen to any of your rules, but you'd hoped. It lasted one tour. One. And by the second, he was smiling at tourists as he helped them with their rental gear, making them giggle and twirl their hair and pressing their boobs against his arm. It was hard to watch.

So you didn't. You drove the boat, you helped parents and their kids with their flippers and making sure their goggles didn't fog up. You passed out lunch and answered questions and resisted the urge to kick Harry off the boat when he let one of the women who was on a trip with her friend sit on his lap.

When no one was around was when he was the most tolerable. There was no one for him to flirt with, and since you virtually ignored him, he only had himself to entertain. And he bought you lunch occasionally, which was nice, because between tourist excursions and taking care of Paige, you often forgot and ended up starving by the time you made it home.

He was even kind of funny when you gave him the time of day, which was rare in the few weeks you'd spent working together. And as time went on, you started to just get used to his...work ethic.

You still didn't like him, but you didn't hate him either.

"Any plans for after our last trip to Channel Islands, ladies?"

You ignored Harry, figuring he was asking the group of bridesmaids on their way off the boat. You'd gotten used Harry and his behavior, but today it was just you, Paige, Harry, and a bunch of girls on a bachelorette weekend. He didn't even have to do anything, they were immediately all over him, which left you and your sister to do the heavy lifting. And now they were finally leaving, and you were ready for them to take Harry with them.

"Y/n," Paige said, elbowing you.

"What?"

"He was asking you."

"Me? What do you—Oh." Looking up, you saw that the bridesmaids were gone and Harry was in fact looking at you. It was the first time he'd ever asked you that, but perhaps it was because Paige was here and he was just being on his best behavior in front of her.

Shrugging, you said, "Not much. Pizza and a movie?"

"It sounds lame but it's really not," Paige said, looking at Harry. You tried to hide your laugh with a cough, but she heard it and elbowed you again.

"Not lame at all," Harry agreed, not seeming to notice the heart eyes your sister was staring at him with. "I was gonna go surfing if you wanted to join? I noticed boards on top of your car in the parking lot this morning, and—"

"We can't. Maybe another time?" you said. You had no desire to spend more time with Harry than absolutely necessary.

"Oh, can we please, Y/n? We haven't gone this summer, and the swells today were supposed to be amazing," Paige said.

Over the years, you'd taught Paige to surf. You hadn't surfed much since coming back to take care of her, but you sometimes went out and watched, giving your sister pointers and advice. The only time you surfed was before the sun came up when no one else was on the beach. It was how you centered yourself and found peace. And sometimes you were emotional about it too. You wouldn't change your life for anything, nor did you regret cutting your career short to take care of Paige, but sometimes you missed it so much tears sprung in your eyes.

Surfing was the one thing that brought you joy, that took you away from your parents. And you were good at it too, better than good. And sometimes when bills piled up and Paige was being a hormonal teenager and slamming doors in your face, you wondered what life would be like if you were still traveling, still competing. But only in the early morning, and after you paddled in and started your day, you left those doubts behind you.

"Not tonight, okay?" you said, suddenly tired. It was a long day of tours, and you were slowly developing a headache. You just wanted to go home, and you were not about to leave your sister alone with Harry.

"Another time then," Harry said, winking at Paige. She giggled and blushed, then helped you gather your things and get off the boat.

Paige grabbed your keys from you and ran for the car, letting herself into the driver's seat. She got her learner's permit recently and had been pushing you to let her drive ever since. You didn't mind, but you did grab the ceiling handle in the passenger seat anytime she made a left turn or parked between two cars.

"She's sweet."

You jumped at how close Harry was to you, but that only served for him to smile at you. Clearing your throat, you said, "Yeah, yeah she is."

"And it's just you two?" he asked.

You looked at Harry, trying to see what these questions were about. He'd never cared to ask you anything personal before, and you didn't know why he was doing so now. What was his game here?

"Yep. It's just us," you said. "See you tomorrow, Harry."

"Wow. You really don't like me, do you?"

You'd made about two steps before he spoke up again, and his words made you freeze and turn around. "Excuse me?"

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you, and you barely even look at me," he said. "I get that you don't like the way I live my life, but I'm sick of you judging me and treating me like shit. I'm a person with feelings, if you didn't know."

"I—"

"And I am good at my job, you know, despite what you seem to think," Harry continued. "If you ever bothered to get to know me, you'd know that I have a degree in marine biology and was a lifeguard before I started working here. I am competent and I can do this job just as well as you, if not better."

Your mouth just kept opening and closing, unable to form any words. You couldn't say anything because he was right, you did think those things. But hearing Harry say all of that to you made you flush with embarrassment. You never thought you'd be confronted about how you felt about him, and now you were incredibly embarrassed.

"I'm so—"

"No, if that's how you feel, that's how you feel," Harry shrugged, his shoulders straining against his white long sleeve shirt. "I just thought you should know you think a little too loud. See you, Y/n."

Harry walked off towards his car, an old beat up pickup truck with two surfboards sticking out of the bed. You were stunned, unable to do anything but watch him get in his car and drive off. When he was gone, you were finally able to move. You walked in a daze to your car, getting in the passenger's seat in silence.

"What was that about?" Paige asked.

"I—I think I've been a little harsh on Harry," was all you managed to say.

Paige laughed, a small and bubbling thing. You frowned as your sister continued to laugh, but she didn't stop, just kept giggling until you pinched her arm. "Oh brother, Y/n. You just realized that?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You thought things would be different, or tense, or at the very least awkward, but they weren't. When you showed up for work the next day, Harry acted like he hadn't called you out for being judgemental or pointed out that you didn't like him. It was like that entire conversation never happened. He went on flirting with tourists and you went on ignoring it, but you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself, remembering what he said to you: I just thought you should know you think a little too loud.

Harry got on your nerves, that didn't change over night. But you also realized that he was right. You weren't a judgy person by nature, so you didn't know why he got under your skin so much. He was just in your mind constantly with his stupid smirks and shorter swim trunks and dark tattoos. He frustrated you to no end, especially now because he hardly spoke to you unless it was about work, a normal thing for the two of you but it felt different now.

And then it hit you.

You were jealous of him.

He was young, maybe a couple years older than you, but you were both in similar places in life. But the difference between you two was that he had freedom you didn't. He got to live life as a young twenty-something while you were helping Paige with math homework and making payments on your parents' house. You would never blame Paige for stepping up and taking care of her, so maybe your subconscious directed the blame at Harry, who was everything you couldn't be anymore.

Sure, he could stand to stare at your boobs less when you were in your bikini, but he never made any lewd comments or sexual advances at you and kept his distance like you'd asked. And if you thought back hard enough, you recalled the tourists making the first move, Harry only reacting to their behavior.

You really were an asshole.

But you were also too proud to apologize. And scared. Harry wasn't rude to you on trips, but he did his job in relative silence, and you didn't know how to bridge that gap that had formed between you. So you just...didn't.

You did your job while he did his, and everything was fine, minus the ever-growing guilt in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm going to the sandwich place down the street. Do you want something before the next tour?"

You looked up from your phone. You'd been enjoying a bit of sun before your next tour group was supposed to show up. Harry had hardly said a word to you all day, and hearing his voice made you jump.

"Uh, sure. Just a turkey sandwich, please."

"Great. I'll be back in ten," he said, not looking twice before stepping off the boat.

Groaning, you leaned your head back. That was why you were so afraid to talk to him now. And perhaps it was deserved, but he hardly gave you the time of day.

You tried making yourself busy. Cleaning surfaces you'd already cleaned and checking the gas gauge even though you knew it was full. By the time you heard Harry's shoes slapping against the wooden planks of the boardwalk, your hands were shaking from nerves.

He'd hardly handed you your sandwich when you blurted, "I'm sorry."

"For...what? Exactly?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

"You were right. About what you said about me. I judged you too harshly when I hardly even know you. I'm sorry," you said, more to the sandwich than to Harry, but in your defense he had a very intense stare.

"I...don't accept your apology," he said, which did make you look at him.

You'd never had someone not accept an apology before, and it felt weird. "Um...okay?" Well, what the hell were you supposed to do now?

Harry grinned and came and sat down next to you, his arm stretching across the edge of the boat, bringing the two of you closer than you'd ever been before. "Not until you go surfing with me."

"I'm trying to apologize and you're asking me out?"

Harry threw his head back and laughed, clearly finding your assumption amusing. "No, though it's cute that that was your immediate thought," he said, still grinning. "I just want us to be friends. We work together all the time and I hardly know you outside the fact that you have a sister and you're slightly judgemental. I want to get to know you. As a friend."

"Oh, well, um, I suppose that's fair," you said. In theory, you shouldn't have cared about being friends, but you felt bad for judging him so harshly, so you almost felt like you had to say yes. "But—Can I just ask why surfing?"

"Because I feel like I need a leg up on you, and I'm rather excellent at surfing."

Now look who was judging, you thought, but you just nodded. "Okay. When?"

"After work today? There's a great spot close by. It's called Steamer—"

"The Lane. I know where it is," you said. Once you were up for it, Jackson had you training there. To test your skills and to be noticed by the right people. The Lane was where a lot of pros surfed, and Jackson told you that if you wanted to be one too, you needed to not only see your competition, you needed to surf what they were surfing too.

"I'm sixteen," you said. "Aren't they all, like, adults."

"You'll get there," he said.

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

"Oh, so you've been?" Harry asked.

"Mmhm. I grew up here, so," you shrugged, not wanting to give too much away.

"Hey, would you look at that. Another thing I know about you," he said, and you couldn't help but match his grin. And damn it if you started to want to be his friend. "So you'll come? I promise we'll be square."

You didn't really like surfing around anyone else anymore, but you also wanted to make things right with Harry. "Yeah. I can't be out too late, though. I have to make dinner for Paige."

"Fine by me."

The two of you quickly ate lunch after that, only having a little time before the next tour began. You were surprised to find yourself excited about spending time with Harry after the day was over. And things were lighter between the two of you too. He joked with you on the tours, and you surprised yourself by joking back. Harry offered to drive the boat , and you let him while you went out with the group in the water, and when you came out, you didn't feel his eyes on you. Not once. Who knew that all you had to do was be open and honest to have a healthy working relationship?

Okay, that was a stupid question, but you were there now, and you were relieved.

At the end of the day, you and Harry cleaned up and put everything away, and when you walked to the marina parking lot together, he made sure you were still going to the Lane with him. You promised to meet him there, and when you got in your car, you took a deep breath. You were really doing this.

As you pulled out of the parking lot, you smiled to yourself. Harry had no idea what he was in for.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"So, you have boards, which means you're at least familiar with surfing, right?" Harry asked. He'd already changed into his wetsuit, and now you were the one trying not to openly stare. It just cut his figure perfectly.

"Uh, yeah," you said. You hoped he mistook your stuttering as nerves about surfing and not your dry mouth at seeing every inch of his muscles outlined by the wetsuit. "I—I know my way around."

"If you're nervous, don't be. I've been told I'm an excellent teacher."

That snapped you out of your daze. A small grin twitched the corner of your mouth. "Thank you. That's very kind."

"I'm a kind person. Not that you would know."

"Hurtful, but deserved, I suppose," you said, walking around to hide behind the side of your car to put on your own wetsuit. When you came back around, Harry gave you a once over. It was brief, but it felt...right somehow. And it gave you butterflies, ones that you definitely needed to ignore. "Ready?"

"So ready."

Harry offered to carry your surfboard for you, but you told him you were fine. He was actually very sweet now that you were away from work, giving you all these tips and pointers that you'd given to Paige when she started learning to surf. It was cute that he wanted to take care of you and make sure you were comfortable, but after you saw a perfect wave about to roll in, you couldn't pass it up. So, without even looking at him, you started to paddle for a wave you were sure Harry didn't even see.

"What are you—" he tried to ask, but you were already leaving him in the dust.

"I'll be back!"

And then you were off. Harry was a speck in your mind as the rest of the world fell away until it was just you and the wave cresting beneath your surfboard. You cut your board through the wave, riding it like it was second nature. And when you were getting close to shore, you jumped off, the safety tether tugging at your ankle a little.

As you paddled back towards Harry, you felt ten times lighter, like you were seeing everything in technicolor. That's what surfing did for you. It put everything into perspective, set the world back on its axis, everything just made sense when you were on the perfect wave.

Your smile was brighter than it had been in a while, and when you paddled back to Harry, it only grew.

"You—You're a liar. A dirty, dirty liar."

"I didn't lie," you said, sitting up on your board, your legs straddling either side of it.

"I asked you if you knew how to surf, and you said, 'I know my way around.' Liar!"

You giggled, like actually giggled. "It was very sweet of you to help. I didn't want to hurt your feelings or bruise your ego or anything."

"Bruise my—You really are something else, you know that?" Harry said, paddling closer to you. "I—I literally don't know what to say other than, uh, can you show me how you did that?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Surfing had kind of become your thing now.

You and Harry would go after you were done taking tourists out, you went out together and surfed. Sometimes you took Paige with you, sometimes it was just the two of you, and sometimes you even invited him out for your mornings on the water. He had somehow become a part of your life before your very eyes, and you weren't even mad about it.

Seeing him flirt with tourists was only mildly annoying to you, you bought each other lunch between tour breaks, and he constantly peppered you with questions about surfing—how long you'd been surfing, where you'd been, your favorite spots. It was like he suddenly needed to live vicariously through you.

"Portugal, for sure," you said, lying on your back.

"I can't believe you've been to Portugal. I can't believe your only worry was whether there would be good enough swells for a competition," Harry said, laying on his own board. He spoke like he was in awe of you, and it felt nice.

"It was...some of the best times of my life," was all you could say, too wrapped up in the past to think of anything else.

"So, why'd you stop?"

You shrugged. "Paige needed me."

Harry was quiet after that. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together. You never talked about your parents, and it was just you and Paige.

"But enough about me," you said, eager to change the subject. "What about you? How'd you end up working for Jackson, Mr. Marine biology degree?"

"Oh you know me. Slept around, went to college, slept around some more..."

"Shut up, I said I was sorry," you said, splashing water in his direction. "And to be fair you do flirt with a lot of people."

"So, I'm flirtatious. Is that a crime?" he asked, but you could tell he wasn't offended. It wasn't like he could deny it.

"No, but you are deflecting."

"Only because you're so much more interesting," he said.

Sitting up on your board, you looked at him. "You're doing it again. If you want to remain a mystery just say that."

Harry shrugged, and you wondered why clammed up so much at the mere prospect of talking about himself. You weren't exactly incredibly forthcoming yourself, but you answered his questions, and you didn't know why he wasn't doing the same.

"It's just not that interesting. Moved to California for college, got my degree, fell in love with surfing, and realized I didn't need to be super wealthy to be fulfilled."

"So you just...give snorkel tours and surf. All day long," you said, trying to make sense of his lifestyle. He was like a younger version of Jackson, in a way.

"And have a lot of sex. Don't forget that part," he said, his dimples flashing as he grinned.

"Fuck off with that. I'm serious."

"And so am I!" Harry sat up and faced you. "Life's too short to worry about things you don't need to worry about. I just want to do what makes me happy."

"You sound like a former cancer patient or someone who had a near-death experience," you joked.

It was a joke, that's all it was, but from the look on Harry's face, it appeared you hit the nail on the head.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I'm such a fucking idiot! I shouldn't have said anything. You—You don't have to say any—"

"Y/n, it's fine. You didn't know," he said, but he sounded different. More guarded.

"It was still a bad joke. I'm sorry. I'll just, I'll just go."

You thought he would stop you, but he didn't. He wouldn't even look at you. So after another mumbled apology, you paddled back to shore, not looking to see if Harry followed you. He didn't.

You were more embarrassed than when he called you out for being judgemental. Things for the last two weeks had been good. You and Harry were getting along, you joked with each other, you hung out outside of work. Everything was just clicking, and now you'd gone and fucked it up.

When you got back to your car, you didn't bother peeling your wetsuit off all the way. You just strapped your board to the top of your car and hightailed it out of there, dreading coming into work the next morning.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry didn't show up to work the next couple days, which made you feel even worse.

Did you somehow send him into a depressive spiral? Was he okay? Did someone need to check on him? Certainly not you, and you didn't think it was your place to ask Jackson about it.

So you went out on the boat with one of the new hires. They were quiet, a little too quiet. You'd become used to Harry's low drawl and the giggles he elicited from tourists. It was like background noise, and now your work days just felt off. Somehow, you'd grown fond of Harry, and you missed seeing him every day. Something Paige had no issue teasing you about when you brought it up once.

Your new tour partner was nice, but he was quiet and shy, and you were also pretty sure he was afraid of you, though you had no idea why. You tried your best to ignore it for the sake of your tourists, trying to give them the best experience possible. You'd even enlisted Paige's help while Harry was gone. At least then you'd have someone to talk to. Except when she stepped on the boat and met Remy, she was completely smitten, and he suddenly had lots to talk about.

"Figures," you muttered, cleaning up after your first tour of the day. Harry had been gone three days now, and you wondered if he was scared of you too. It seemed you had that effect on people.

Halfway through the week, Harry returned. He was in much better spirits than the last time you saw them, and since you were pretty sure you didn't know how to hold an emotionally charged conversation, you kept your distance. You were amicable, but kept Harry at arm's length, which was hard once you realized just how much you missed him. He brought this energy to the boat that went unmatched, and you'd grown comfortable around him, but obviously he didn't feel that way about you.

And it didn't help that he kept his distance too, so much so that it was almost back to when you first started working together. You stayed on opposite ends of the boat, which was hard considering its size. And the longer you went without talking, the worse you felt. You'd said something stupid, but you didn't think it was worth icing you out over. You felt alone, isolated, drifting farther and farther away from everyone, despite being right next to them.

You spent a lot more time alone in the water, waking up earlier and coming home later. Paige could tell something was up, but she'd been spending time with Remy and his family, and any time she asked if you wanted her to stay home, you told her to go and have fun. "Don't worry about me," was your mantra these days.

Your loneliness led to irritability, a feeling you hadn't felt since you were young and walking the Santa Cruz pier by yourself. It was easy to slip back into old behaviors. If Harry could be cold, so could you, and you were probably a lot better at it, though you weren't sure that was something to be proud of. Not that he noticed, anyway. It felt like he hardly even looked at you anymore. That was something you'd wanted when you first started working on the same boat, but now you missed it. And damn it, you missed him. But if he was going to be an ass, you weren't going to bother.

It was another early day at the marina, but when you got down to where your boat was docked, someone was already there.

"What do you want, Jack?"

"We're taking the day off today. Come on. Hop in," he said, firing up the engine when you were close enough. You knew he would take off without you, but honestly a day off sounded pretty good to you.

You got on and sat down on one of the worn leather benches by the front of the boat. You kept your eyes on the horizion, watching the world come to life as the sun rose, lighting up the sky and slowly warming your skin.

Jackson drove for a while until the coastline was a mere speck. He made sure you were far enough from the rest of the world, but close enough in case you needed to get back to the marina for an emergency. When he cut the engine and dropped the anchor, he sat down next to you, enjoying the stillness.

"I haven't seen you like this since you came up to my kneecaps," he finally said, keeping his eyes on the water.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, even though you did. You'd been more impatient lately, and quick to snap at anyone who tried to hold a conversation with you. You were professional with the tourists, but just barely, which was probably why Jackson pulled you from work today.

"He got under your skin, then?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you repeated.

Jackson sighed. "Well, it makes sense. Both of you are stubborn and have very poor emotional intelligence."

"He doesn't want to talk to me. I'm not going to force someone to have a conversation," you said with a shrug. It was the truth, but there was also more to it than that, and Jack knew it too.

"I know you won't."

You went back to sitting in silence, and you were thankful that Jackson dropped it. You didn't want to talk about Harry. Not when the thought of that day out on the water was the only thing that came to mind. You realized you messed up with that stupid joke you made, but was that really worth completely ignoring you over? You didn't think so, but then again, what did you know? You were the least equipped to handle situations like that, situations that involved feelings. And you did feel for him, you just didn't care to define them, not when Harry wasn't talking to you. There was no point.

"I think I'm unlovable," you said out of the blue. It was merely an observation, one that you only felt comfortable saying around Jackson because you knew he wouldn't judge you for it.

"Well, that's a load of bullshit," Jack said.

"Is it? My parents never cared about me or Paige, I've never had a steady boyfriend, and it only took a couple of weeks for Harry to hate me."

"You're gonna sit there and tell me Paige doesn't love you?" Jack said, and you could see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye. "That kid idolizes you. You're her hero."

That's when the tears came. Because when it all broke down, Paige was at the center of your world. You were eight years apart, and she was very different than you in a lot of ways, but you loved her. And she loved you. And nothing would ever change that.

"You should've never stopped competing. It made you so happy."

Wiping a tear with the sleeve of your sweater, you shook your head. "You know why I had to stop, Jack. I had to be here—"

"And that means what, exactly? You retire for good? We both know there are plenty of competitions around here, Y/n. You could've taken Paige with you, but you're here, wasting away. Why?"

"It's not that simple," you said, shaking your head. "And I couldn't take Paige around the world with me. She was thirteen."

"And what about when she's eighteen?" Jack pushed. "Keep working for a washed up hack like me? I'll fire you if you do."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Jack."

Sighing, he rested a hand on your shoulder. It was the most contact the two of you ever shared, as he wasn't a huge fan of physical touch. "You feel trapped here, but you were the one who built the cage, Y/n."

"That's—"

What? Not true? You knew it was. You'd been hiding in your house, on your tour boat, in Santa Cruz, for the last few years.

If you couldn't be the best, you didn't want to surf, at least not competitively. And hearing that your parents all but abandoned Paige while you were having the time of your life in a new country every few weeks was a harsh dose of reality. Your sister never held it against you, but you felt like you let her down, like deep down you knew that your parents would never stay, and yet you left to pursue your dream anyway. Giving it all up to take care of Paige was your way of making it up to her. And you'd been stuck ever since.

"What do I do about him?" you asked.

"Who, Styles? You scare the shit out of him, probably for the same reasons she scares the shit out of you."

"Gee, thanks. Really helping me feel loveable, Jack," you said, frowning at him.

He shrugged. "You know what I mean. There's a lot more going on ther than you think, but I can't be the one to tell you."

You side-eyed him. "Why do I get the feeling you like being a keeper of all these secrets and wisdom?"

"It's because I do."

You and Jack stayed out on the water for a while before eventually heading back. You were in your head for the entirety of the trip back to the marina, taking in everything he'd said. For a long time, you'd been complacent, living in Santa Cruz and raising Paige. And then you met Harry, and suddenly you're a mess. It didn't make any sense.

You like him, idiot, you could practically hear Paige say. But why was that so terrifying?

Maybe because he hadn't really opened up to you, maybe because you didn't really know him, or maybe because you'd never gotten butterflies around anyone like you did around him.

But what was probably the most likely reason was that you knew he didn't like you back. You'd been mean to him, you offended him, and now he hardly spoke to you. If that wasn't rejection, you didn't know what was. And you'd been rejected by enough people in your life.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to apologize to him one more time. And if things were still weird, you'd just ask Jackson to find you another tour partner. He'd give you a hard time about it, but you'd put up with it.

As Jackson parked the boat and you helped him tie it to the dock, you'd made your decision. It was the safe choice, but it was all you could muster.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The next day you were back at work, only this time Harry had beat you to the boat. Normally you were the first one there, but you'd taken some extra time at the beach to relax your nerves. You had to talk to him, and you needed to prepare yourself for any outcome, whatever it might be.

"Hey," you said.

Harry looked up from where he'd been cleaning off snorkel goggles. "Oh. Hey."

Then silence. Neither of you said anything, but you didn't know what to say, how to begin.

"Listen, I—"

"I just wanted to—"

Both of you paused, apologizing for speaking over each other. You urged Harry to speak, but he insisted that you go first, so you swallowed the growing lump in your throat and tried to find your words.

"I'm—I'm sorry about the other day. I realize I was insensitive, and it obviously struck a chord with you. So, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Y/n. I told you that."

Frowning, you said, "Yeah, but I just feel like things have been off lately? And I couldn't help but think it was because of what I said or something I did. I just—I know we have to work together, and I don't want there to be any awkwardness. I know you, like, don't like me or whatever, but I thought we could at least be—"

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up. What do you mean I don't like you?" he asked. He looked confused, though you weren't sure why.

"You haven't spoken to me in weeks. I just thought—"

"You're a very intimidating person, you know that, don't you?" Harry said, taking a small step towards you. He was in a blue sweater and a pair of dark shorts, his feet bare as he stood on the boat.

Tilting your head curiously, you said, "I don't think—"

"You practically hated me when we first met, and it took me ages to get you to even...I don't know, tolerate me? And you're, like, drop dead gorgeous, so that made it ten times harder not to mess up in front of you, but nothing I did seemed to do the trick.

"And then all of a sudden we're friends, and it's great, and I find myself even more drawn to you than I already was because, like, fuck, Y/n, you're hot and interesting, and an amazing surfer, and I didn't stand a chance." He seemed to say all this in one breath, his chest heaving once he was done talking.

You didn't know what to say, or think for that matter. Harry thought you were gorgeous? "But—But you flirted with all those people right in front of me—"

"I told you, I didn't think I had a chance with you. You hardly even spoke to me at first," Harry said. "And, okay, so I like attention, and you weren't giving me any, so I saught it elsewhere, but it's just what I do to protect myself."

"Protect yourself? From what?" Harry sighed and ran a hand over his face. He looked tense, like having this conversation was causing him physical pain. "Harry, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I just thought—"

"I had cancer," he blurted.

Your eyes widened. That was not at all what you were expecting, and now you had too many questions. "What? When? Wh—"

"Osteosarcoma on my leg. Right before I left for college. I had to defer a year so I could do all the treatments."

"I'm sorry. That couldn't have been easy," you said gently. You wanted to go to him, but he didn't seem like the type that wanted to be coddled or comforted, so you stayed put.

"Thanks. I'm all good now, but when I was...doing my treatments, I had a girlfriend and friends, and they all checked up on me until one day they didn't, and I was left to face it by myself. My friends had their own lives and my girlfriend couldn't handle seeing me so sick. Imagine actually being sick," he chuckled bitterly.

"My parents were a wreck, and I had to be strong for them, but I had no one. My friends abandoned me, I broke up with my girlfriend because she couldn't stand to see me like that, and suddenly I was very alone.

"So once I was declared cancer free, I flew out here for school, learned to surf, and never looked back. This is my life now, and I try to live it to the best of my ability." He took another step towards you, taking off his baseball cap so he could run a hand through his hair before putting it back on. "But you. I wasn't expecting you."

"Me? What did I do?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You didn't do anything, and that's my point. You just appeared out of nowhere and upended my life. I suddenly want to know about your day and where you go after work, I want to hear stories about your travels, I want to just lay on the beach with you. And that's just the stuff I feel comfortable saying out loud."

He had you blushing, but his last comment sent you reeling. Trying to keep your composure, you asked, "So you've been ignoring me because?"

"Because I don't want to get hurt again! I'm terrified, Y/n. I'm terrified of the worst happening and being abandoned all over again," he said, his fingers gripping his sweater hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "So I tried to ignore you and hope it went away, and then Jackson tells me I'm an idiot because I was kicking you while you were already down, and he knew that I was only putting off the iniveitable, because while I tried to ignore how I felt, my feelings only grew. So now I'm standing here like an idiot, wondering what your color is and if your lips taste as good as they look."

If it was possible, your jaw would be on the floor. Harry had more or less repeated back to you your own feelings, making you realize you were more similar than you thought. It also occurred to you that Jack had been a very busy man recently, but you decided that could wait. Maybe both of you being terrified wrecks would lead to messiness, but you didn't really care.

"I like orange. Like a nice, sunset orange," you said, fiddling with a stray thread on your sweatshirt.

You'd missed seeing Harry's smile, but now it was back in full force. He closed the short distance between the two of you, his hand slowly and carefully resting on the side of your face. "And the other thing?"

You shrugged. "I've never had any complaints."

"You are just—"

"Shut up and just kiss me already, Harry."

He didn't argue with you then, but he did take his sweet time.

Not that you'd ever admit to it out loud, but you thought about this moment a lot. And in your thinking, you always assumed that Harry would try to rush things, to kiss brusingly with passion in a way that made your toes curl. And they did, but for an entirely different reason.

He was slow, like he really was trying to determine the exact taste of your lips. It nearly drove you insane. His tongue traced the seam of your lips languidly, his free hand holding your chin to keep you in place.

And it was amazing, but you needed more. So you skipped running your hands through his hair for now and went straight for beneath his shirt, splaying your hands across Harry's chest and feeling the taught muscle beneath your fingertips. And just as you assumed, Harry's reaction was immediate. One hand reached down past your lower back and gripped hard while the other was in your hair. He used his teeth, nibbling on your lower lip and laughing lightly when you hissed.

Harry overloaded your senses, made you drunk on the taste and smell of him. His kiss made you see stars and his touch had you putty in his hands. It made you want to drag him off the boat and onto the bed of his truck, but you had work to do, there wasn't any time.

"God, working with you just got ten times harder, and I mean that quite literally," he said, hardly moving his lips away from yours. The implication alone sent shivers down your spine, but just for good measure, Harry pressed himself against you to show just how much a kiss had him reacting.

"Can we go somewhere? After work?" you panted, whining when he began to move down your neck, looking for the places that turned your knees into jelly.

"I'd be devastated if we didn't," he said, voice muffled from the kisses he was leaving on your skin. "You're gonna have to stay covered up, you know that right?"

You huffed a laugh, but you knew Harry was dead serious. All you said was, "We'll see."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

four months later

You were beyond nervous, your heart racing, practically begging to burst out of your chest.

During competitions, judges called out scores and what you needed to win, but you never paid them any mind, too focused on the task at hand, which was to find the next wave and surf the hell out of it.

Training for competitions again wasn't easy, but it was a challenge you willingly accepted. You realized that Jackson was right (about a lot of things) and you could get back out onto the competitive circuit, even if it was only local stuff.

Harry, Paige, and Jackson helped you train, but mostly Jackson, Harry and Paige were more of a support system, something you'd never had before. It was weird at first, but you welcomed it with open arms. It was a much better alternative to constantly being alone.

And Jackson could only take you so far. If you wanted to win, you had to believe you could, and for a while, you didn't.

That's where Harry came in. He motivated you, kissed away the wrinkle between your brows when you thought too much, and was a very big help in getting you to "relax." Whether that was in the back of his truck, on the boat after almost everyone left the marina, or your place when Paige was at a sleepover, all you had to do was look at each other, and you'd drop everything and be on each other in seconds. You used to think Harry's flirting was over the top and unnecessary, but now that you were on the receiving end of his bedroom eyes you were hardly ever able to say no.

But aside from all that, Harry helped you in the confidence department too. He made you realize that your dreams were still worth pursuing, and told you you were good enough when you couldn't believe it yourself. He revealed to you a softer, more vulnerable side that you'd never seen before, but he always told you that you brought it out of him. "We're in this together," he'd tell you, kissing the top of your hand or the side of your head, or your knee, depending on where he was next to you.

You'd thought you were okay with complacency, that you'd had your fun, and that you'd left it all behind you when you came home. But you found new adventures at home with Paige and Harry, who were also thick as thieves the more they hung out with each other. Harry seamlessly became a part of your lives, and you wouldn't change a single thing about it.

"Y/n, you won!"

"Huh?"

You were just stepping out of the water, your surfboard under your arm when Harry jogged up to you and Paige slammed into your side. She began to jump with her arms still locked around you, jolting you to the point of discomfort, but you let her.

"You won! You had the highest score of the day!" Paige said again.

"I did?" You looked over to the judges booth and saw that your sister was right. Your competition number along with the color of your rash guard was at the top of the leaderboard for your group. You'd won.

"You did, baby. I'm so proud of you," Harry said. Paige stepped aside so he could pull you in for a hug, and you rested your cheek against his shoulder, his skin warm from standing out in the San Diego sun.

You weren't traveling the world, but sometimes you and Paige, or you, Paige, and Harry made road trips along the coast to local competitions. It was fun and a way for the three of you to bond. In the last four months, you'd become something like a little family, a reality you never ever saw for yourself.

"You can relax now, you did it," Harry whispered so only you would hear. He knew how tense you got about these things, even though you'd pretty much gone undefeated since you started competing again.

Pulling back, Harry kissed your forehead and let go of you, telling you to go get your prize so the three of you could go and celebrate. You did as he said, splitting apart from Harry and Paige and smiling faintly as you heard your sister babble to Harry about all the stuff she wanted to see before you had to head home.

It wasn't the life you expected, nor was it the life you ever thought you would deserve, but as you stepped off the podium and into Harry's awaiting arms, you couldn't have asked for a better one.

they are so cute