Harry Styles Fluff - Blog Posts

Late Night Worries {h.s.}

Hiii!! I’m fairly new to the Harry fic writing, I only intend to use him as a face/name claim. That’s what makes me comfy :))

This is a blurb about Harry and his wife who has a little trouble seeing past the “bad” parts of being a parent. A mention of previous trauma but no details, other than that hopefully it hits you in the feels!

I hope whoever comes across this enjoys it!! Happy reading :) I love getting feedback, don’t be afraid to message me!!

“Harry? Are you awake baby?”

The only times he’s able to be woken up is either from his wife saying his name for whatever reason she has for interrupting the precious few hours of rest he gets, or it’s when he hears his 3 month old baby boy crying. It’s so natural to him now that it instantly jolts him awake. “Now I am, yeah. What’s wrong?” As he rubs his eyes and sits up and rests on one of his elbows.

Y/N, although she knows that it’s a ridiculous and an irrelevant fear now, she can’t help but worry herself to the brink of insomnia. Ever since she gave birth, her already huge heart, got even bigger and even more emotional. Her “mom heart” as she calls it, doesn’t want to see her pure son turn into someone who will resent her for how she parents him. Not letting him go out too late, or grounding him when he gets a bad grade in school, or sneaks in a girl, or a guy, into the house when he isn’t supposed to.

When Y/N is this upset her throat usually closes up because she’s trying to hold in her tears, so they sit there awhile in the darkness. Harry knows exactly what’s going on with her, which is why he’s being so patient. They’ve been together a while and he has learned not to rush her when she gets emotional, it only agitates her more when he is pushy then y/n usually tells him whatever she’s thinking isn’t really important.

After a few long minutes she’s finally able to swallow normally and that’s when y/n gushes all of her insecurities out, “I don’t want our sweet boy to hate me, Harry. I don’t think I can handle that. What if I do something wrong and he wishes that I was never his mother? I don’t want to be broken like that, I’m not ready for that.” Y/N has to take a deep breath to steady herself. Nervously picking at the remaining nail polishh on her fingernails she proceeds slowly, “And what if I break him? I don’t want our son to know the trauma I’ve been through, I don’t want to project that onto him like my parents did to me. What if I’m not healed by then? What if I’m not ready to be a mom, H?”

Everything that y/n has said rings through Harry’s ears and it’s painful. He doesn’t understand how she can be having all of these stressors. Maybe it’s from the lack of sleep? The first thing that he does is turn on his lamp on his bedside table so he can have a proper look at her. And what Harry sees immediately is her purple-blue under eyes, the tears staining her cheeks and her sad but really cute red nose.

“Y/N, honey, c’mere.” They’re both sitting up at this point and y/n crawls up onto Harry’s lap and hugs him. “Take deep breaths for me, yeah? Only gonna make yourself more miserable and tired for tomorrow.”

He rubs her back and then switches to playing with her hair, that’s what calms her and usually it’s a recipe for sleepiness. He doesn’t do it for too long because he still has to make sure she’s not up all night worrying about situations that haven’t happened yet. Sniffling is a good sign, it means that y/n has settled down enough for her to really listen to what Harry has to tell her. A little trick he’s learned, instead of trying to get her to understand where he’s coming from when she’s too stressed to think of another perspective.

Harry breaks the silence, “Y/N, could you look at me please? There ya go, hi darling.” He smiles warming, looking into her eyes with so much reassurance it almost seems impossible. “I know that you haven’t been getting much sleep the last few weeks and it might be hard not to see this, but I promise you that our baby will not hate you. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you are the most caring, compassionate, and loving person that I have ever known and probably will ever come to know. Whatever the situation or punishment might be, you will be doing it with the pure kindness that is in your heart. Like you’ve taught me, what comes with mistakes also comes with great lessons, and I’ve made many. You’ll have nice long conversations with our boy about what’s right and wrong, and you’ll teach him in a way that isn’t demeaning or make him feel like every little thing he’s done wrong is the worst thing he could ever do. He is bound to mess up and get in trouble with his Mum and he might get extremely mad at you, but I can already tell that he will have the same heart as you. He will never be angry for long and will come running back, telling you that he loves you.

“You won’t let yourself break him, or let him anywhere near the pain you’ve gone through. You’re taking care of yourself by going to therapy, yeah? Don’t worry about all these future “what if’s” y/n. I know it’s easier said than done but let's just try to focus on the present. We can figure all of that stuff out when it comes to it. For now, let’s take advantage of when he’s this small and young, because we might be wishing he’d stay a baby.”

They both giggle at that last part, it seems like they’re having a hard time now taking care of him, but both y/n and Harry know the storm of child/young adulthood is another ballgame in itself.

“Thank you Harry, for being the best husband. For listening to me, and helping me see things that I can’t in moments like these.”

“Of course, anything for you my sweet girl.” He pushes a strand of hair from y/n’s face behind her ear, looking into her now serene and cloudy eyes and gives her the softest kiss on her pouty lips. “I love you, and I love our precious boy that we made. If he ever happens to make you cry in the future, rest assured, love, that I’ll whoop his ass, not physically but you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“I do baby, I love you both so much.” Y/N finally slides down and rests her head on Harry’s chest just above his butterfly. “I appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you too. Let’s get some rest now, how does that sound?”

Cute ❤️

-𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 || 𝐇.𝐒

Pairing: best friend!harry x reader

Content warning: fluff, talks of Fiancé’s and Ex’s & love

Word count: 2k

A/n: guess how long I’ve had this puppy in my drafts? ok but i never give my one-shots part two’s but I’m thinking ab it… I really like it… enjoy:) masterlist

Sex, talk, heartbreak, clogs. All a part of the most exotic parties— ones Harry threw at least.

We were three hours in; sweat drenched our hairline and underarm’s, tequila was starting to taste like water, and the weird party lights we had since god-knows-when made me dizzy until I was nauseous.

The guest bathroom was shut, moans leaking through the creaks under the door. I hated bathroom hoggers. The only restroom left in this little home was the one in Harry’s room. It was kept locked so Harry wouldn’t get infested with crabs.

It was one of those locks that could be opened by a penny, or the tip of an acrylic nail.

Every ounce of food and liquid I consumed was huddling at the tip of my tongue. I nearly missed the toilet (I halfway did).

“You’re cleaning that up tomorrow.”

I pulled away from the toilet with a blazing throat and mouth that tasted like bad dip. My head spun so much I couldn’t focus on the voice.

I’m going crazy.

The shower curtains shook open. I turned and caught Harry’s lopsided smile— the dimpled one that never failed to make my stomach bubble (in a good way).

“Why are you hiding in there?” I asked, letting the weight of my head naively rest on the toilet seat.

He huffed through his mouth. Then, I saw right past his facade.

Sarah guessed three shots, Mitch guessed two, I guessed 12 AM. The answers didn’t match, but I figured it would take time to let something devastating sink in rather than drinks. We made a bet on when the high of the party would go down and he was faced with the fact that his fiancé was now his ex-fiancé.

“Too many people.” He grumbled, playing with the hem of his shirt.

The toilet flushed and I was back on my feet throwing a towel on the puked bit of floor before making my way over the tub.

“You don’t fit.” He half-groaned, half-laughed.

“I’ll make myself fit.” I snuggled myself between his crossed legs and the cold tile beside the faucet. It was a tight space, but he was thin enough for us to both fit. Uncomfortably, that is.

“You look like you had fun.” He said.

“Hm, what gave it away?” I sighed, closing my eyes to relieve myself of the nausea that was coming back.

“You haven’t puked like that since we were teenagers.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. We had the bright idea of going to this popular’s girl party in year 11. We left drunk, and in so much trouble. One of the cops that caught us just happened to be our neighbor and drove us home without punishment.

Our mums didn’t hold back, though. I threw up my guts the next morning; as if that didn’t make me feel horrible enough, Harry had to watch as punishment, with Anne giving us a well-worded lecture about how disappointed she was and how she hopes we learn from our mistakes.

It only took us a couple tries.

“I still feel horrible about that night.” I wipe a tear away, stomach aching from laughter.

“It was very traumatizing. I thought I saw you threw up blood.”

“It was hot Cheetos.” I laughed hard, and so did he.

I closed my eyes for just a second to let myself breath. But he patted my knees.

“How’re you holding up, with the-“

“The ex-boyfriend thing?”

“Yeah…”

“Better…” I could sense that Anne ‘that’s a lie’ look he gained as he got older, so I shortened the lie and laughed, “Not so well.”

One of those laughs that reveals how hurt you are before you burst into tears.

I hated myself for leaving Him with so much power over my emotions. But it’s hard to move on from someone you saw everyday, made love to every other day, and told your secrets to because you trusted them.

Trust is a silly thing. Just as love.

Harry would know.

My face grew warm, and wet. Harry rubbed my knee, comfortingly. He knew this pain, this territory. But never were we both in the same state, disregarding our feelings to take care of one another. It felt foreign and I started to feel useless.

I hated that my heart hurt while his heart hurt, but maybe in a way, it’ll bring us closer together.

He sniffled. “God, I hate when you cry. It makes me cry.”

I opened my eyes to catch him wiping his tears. Then, I found myself crying more for afflicting my pain on him. Fuck drunk minds, and fuck stupid exes.

“Harry, don’t cry.” I whined.

He groaned before rubbing his eyes.

“Come on,” he patted my knee again, straightening himself in his spot to get up. He sniffled once more before he stepped over and offered me his hand. I stared at it, blearily. “Come on.” He said again.

Then I took his hand and stood a little too fast for my head. He held my hips in place until I gained balance.

“Don’t slip, you knob.” He laughed. He took one of my arms over his shoulders and led us the small patio outside his room.

There weren’t many people outside. Maybe a couple smoking a joint or two, converting in quiet voices.

“You think you’ll be able to climb up.” He pointed to the latter at the side of his house. If I hadn’t gone up there so many times before, drunk me would deny, but instead she gave me a boost of confidence.

“Psh! Yeah!”

He stared at me with his eyes wide. Even I heard my loud slurred words.

“We can stay-“

“Just hold my bum up, Harry.” I said, already making my way to the third step.

He gripped onto my waist firmly. All of a sudden I thought of all those times I’ve been touched on the waist; sexually, comfortingly. His hands felt hot, like they could burn a hole into my skin.

“Did you change your mind?” He says.

I looked at my spot on the latter, frozen still, then I shake my head.

I continued step after step, Harry’s grip getting looser and lower as I climbed higher.

Just hold my bum up, Harry.

Finally, I made at the very top and the weed stench was wary from here. Carefully, I roamed the top. Random tools and one of Harry’s old fisherman hats were up here.

“When was the last time you came up here?” I asked.

The latter wobbled some more before he responded with a grunt. “Erm, about three months I think.”

I could tell. The blue was turning brown and some of it was covered in bird turd. If anything it looked like it had been up here for years.

“Shit, that’s where my lucky hat went.”

He picked it up and for a second I thought he was going to put it on his head.

“Please don’t put it on.”

And for a second I couldn’t believe I doubted him.

He put it over his head and turned to look at me with a happy smile.

“You didn’t even smell it. You’ll have lice!”

He laughed and took it off to give it a whiff. Immediately, his face scrunched in regret.

“Oh god, that is-“

“Gross?”

He laughed hard enough to almost fall to his knees.

He opened his eyes to look at me with a peak of mischief. “You wanna smell it?”

“Absolutely not.” I slowly inched away.

“Just take a whiff, love.” He tilted it towards me.

“No, Harry.”

I eyed the hat as he grew closer and closer to me.

“I’m not kidding when I say I’ll murder you in cold blood, Harry.”

“You would do no such thing!” He whined.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

With a blink of my eye, he took his chance. I tried to run past him but he was too fast.

He wrapped his arm around me and waved the hat in my face. I gagged, inhaling every bit of sour, wretched, sweat infused scent of it.

“YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!”

“Plead for mercy!” He shouted deliberately.

“I plead! I plead!”

He laughed and let me go. Once the horrifying smell withered away, I joined him and tried to laugh the trauma away.

Harry threw the hat over the balcony. I laid flat on the floor to try and catch my rugged, chest-burning breaths. I got to catch a glimpse of the moon too.

“Plead for mercy?” I ask.

“Year 5, remember?” He joined me on the floor.

My mind goes back to a 10 year old Harry and a group of 5 other girls wearing head wigs and role playing as the Supreme Court. It was a sick experiment our teacher did for English. We had to defend our essay thesis’s like they were going to get executed.

Mine got executed but Harry made a scene in front of the other girls to defend me. Then one of them got fed up and stood, screaming “plead for mercy! Plead!” Panically, I did what she said. Harry made light of it by repeating it every time he could, and since then it’s always made me laugh.

“I remember. I just haven’t heard that in a while.”

“We use it all the time…” he pauses, “at least we used to.” His laugh grows faint.

It’s always like this. We get partners and slowly fade from each other, give the attention we gave to each other to them. Never the less, none of them deserved it.

“I missed you, Harry.”

We saw each other nearly everyday, but he knows what I mean. It’s never the same as it was when we were kids.

“I missed you too, Y/n.”

I turn to my side and he already has his head turned to me. I think about every memory since we were fifteen: every crush I thought I had, every boyfriend I thought I loved… I think and I think. And I don’t think I ever truly felt for them how strongly I ever felt towards Harry.

Staring at him,— the wrinkles he’s grown with age, the features that enhanced over the years; his nose, his eyes, his hair, his cheeks, his mouth— I think.

I think I’m too scared to admit what I feel… because I’ve never thought so deeply about it. I’ve never allowed myself to.

I look back at his eyes and they shrink as he smiles.

“I can see the moon in your eyes.” He says.

I take in the way he said it and realize how much I love it when he speaks.

“Do you see how much I love you?” My drunk mind voices, I know it this time because I can hear it. I can hear the hint of eagerness and pathetic validation falling from the tip of my tongue.

He nods without hesitation.

“Do you see it in mine?” He says. I look into them and get sucked in. I want to kiss him, but I don’t. I want to hug him, but I don’t. I’m still; frozen.

I do see it, Harry.

“Harry-“ I say, and he scoots closer like he’s ready to listen. I’m scared he’s close enough to hear my heart now and how loudly it bangs against my chest; how fast it’s talking like it’ll never shut up.

It doesn’t shut up.

Unfortunately, it speaks.

“I’ll never love anyone like I love you, Harry.” I say. “It’s scary, but you’re the one person I don’t think I could ever stop loving, Harry. You’re the light of my life…” I hesitate, but my heart speaks again, “the love of my life.”

Then, my heart shuts up. Like the words were a release.

He smiles. He leans forward the tiniest bit and meets his forehead with mine.

“Can I scare you a little more?” He says. I don’t respond. “I think you’re mine too. I think you have been for a very long time, Y/n.”

writing a little sequel to Out of a dream and should be out next week!! thank you for all the love my cherries!! 🤍

Hard times

summary : harry messes around before a show and gets his zipper stuck on a doggy suit costume and you come to the rescue!

warnings : swearing, crying, fluff!

*currently writing a blurb so have this little thing 😝 ps not really proof read so sorry for any confusion in my outrages writing 😭*

It felt like you had been searching for years, left and right, through all the cracks for Harry at the venue.

Jeff sent you on a mission to find him after he didn’t rock up to the soundcheck right before doors opened and he was set to be on stage in about 2 hours.

You weren’t worried, well not yet you weren’t. You also don’t think they checked his dressing room since he’s like a little energetic 5 year old who’s just had 7 bowls of sugar because he can’t ever sit still.

Knowing that for a fact because he’s either running around the stage, backstage, the whole ass venue or even exploring in some small janitors closet or something. Harry was a mad man, or let’s say he was a handful.

Opening the door into his dressing room you call out his name. “H? Are you in here, you missed sound check and everyone’s wondering where you are.” Closing the door behind you, your eyes dart to the bathroom, hearing someone mumbling in there.

Padding over to the small bathroom in his dressing room you peek your head in and holy fuck.

There he stands in front of the mirror, a large dog head from a costume is sat on the counter and he’s cursing to him self as he turns to the side, trying to rip the small zip down that goes from his neck all the way down.

“Oh my god…” you cover your mouth, walking into the doorway, his head snaps to you, his frown becoming more prominent as he turns fully to you, hands dropping beside him.

“Baby, I’ve been stuck in this fuckin’ costume for 30 minutes.” He’s almost on the verge of tears because of how hard he’s been trying.

It looks like he’s just had some hardcore sex, his hairs all sweaty and there’s sweat along his hairline, cheeks red and a panicked look on his face. His face drops as you throw your head back laughing so hard you could feel your ribs hurting.

“There’s no- no way this is real. Where did you even get this costume from!” You stumble over your words, giggles coming out of your mouth as he stands there like a child who’s just been told off, you walk over to him, your hand coming out to run your fingers against the fake fur on the costume. “You’re such a dumbass. Who knew you were a furry…” you look up at him, he’s still frowning.

“I perform in 2 hours, please get me out of this.” His expression turns serious, a hard look on his face now.

“Mm, I’d rather watch you go on stage in this. This is hilarious! What a story this is gonna be.” You smile as your hand comes up to see if you can tug on the zipper more, you squint your eyes pulling hard on the zipper a few times before you can think-

“Oops.” The zipper pulls off, leaving it with just the thing that connects it, you look to your hand before slowly lifting your head up to Harry, he stands there, eyes wide as he looks down at the zipper piece in your hand. “Well… we have a problem.”

“No, Y/N, no what.” His hands come up to his face, you place the piece onto the counter, feeling guilty because you knew Harry was frustrated having tried to get out of this dog costume for a while, you don’t realise he’s actually started crying.

He leans back against the counter, hands still on his face as he drops his head to his chest, you see his breathing is staggered, breathing unevenly with every breath he takes, you know every sign of him like the back of your hand so your heart does chip a little also knowing that if you were stuck in a dog costume you’d breakdown too.

“Oh baby, don’t cry please. Look at me, H.” You move in front of him, hands coming up to his wrists, tugging on them slightly but he keeps them pressed against his eyes.

“No. I’m crying- why am I crying, I’m so stupid.” He shakes his head. “I’m never gonna get out of this costume, I’ll be stuck in it till I’m in my grave.” He mumbles against his hands, you did want to laugh at how he was over reacting, but that wasn’t right for the situation right now.

“No you’re not, I can work something out. Baby, please look at me, it’s making me sad now. I don’t think someone wants to see me and you crying over a bloody doggy suit.” You chuckle, hands tugging on his wrists once again and he finally moves his hands, intertwining yours with his he looks down at you, eyes red and a small pout on his lips.

You then bring one of your hands up, brushing his eyelashes, wet with tears before wiping a tear that fell onto his nose, leaning up to peck his lips softly.

“Breathe, yeah? I always work things out, y’know that. You’ve been with me long enough to figure that out.” You smile at him and he smiles at you, a dimple finally poking out.

You then focus your attention on the zipper bit where the zipper teeth are together, you move your hands to the gap where the zip was and you pull and to your surprise they pull away from each other easily and you cheer, smiling widely.

“All my magic.. would you look at that, you’re free!” You giggle, pulling it all the way till he can pull the suit off as it drops to his feet, now he’s just standing there, in his boxers. “You’re a mad man, Styles. Still wondering why I didn’t get a warning contract before I started dating you…”

“Heeeeyyy, you love me.” He gives you a open mouthed grin, arms coming out to pull you into a tight hug. “Thank you for saving me, angel girl.”

“I swear if I find you in this situation again, you’re on your own.” You laugh against his chest, hands coming to wrap around his waist.

The situation was resolved and now it was a one of a kind story to tell, if helping him get out of a $30 doggy suit didn’t prove your loyalty to him you don’t know what else would. You loved this crazy man and wouldn’t of changed that moment for the world.

this just popped into my mind how silly

Dividers!! @firefly-graphics 🤍

Out of a dream

summary : you and THE harry styles had a one night stand.. the night was a blur so the morning you wake up you’re quite surprised.

warnings : mentions of sex, swearing, fluff?? pls let me know if there was anything else!!

*HEY GUYS!!! first of all I want to thank you for everything on my first ever writing post, i know it’s not the best thing you’ve ever read, it’s definitely not the best thing I’ve written but I didn’t expect that much love. I’m so sorry for just disappearing, life has been very busy but I will get back to things soon! p.s this is how y/n will be in most of my writings, not shy, very outgoing and sarcastic!!!*

Last night was very much a blur.

The only thing you remember was drinking at a random club in the Hollywood Hills, then stumbling into a SUV before everything else was just a blackout.

Waking up to the sun beaming onto your face, your eyes flutter open, hand coming up to block the bright light from your eyes. Although everything seems quite normal, you feel a heavy thing over your torso and a soft aroma of a Tom Ford cologne, pushing yourself up quickly you scan the room, confused on how you might of ended up here.

Well, you already know because the most logical reason would be that you wanted to get someone’s dick wet. You look down to see if the man you pleasured was good looking at-least and-

“Holy fuck.” Your eyes widen, your heart beating out of your chest as you freeze. Harry fucking Styles is sleeping right beside you, curls sticking up left and right, you realise his face was buried into your stomach because of the red mark on it.

You also realise you both were naked, quickly scrambling out of the bed- or wait, his bed. You grab your panties from the floor pulling them up, panic mode absolutely activated.

You hear him moving on the bed, sheets rustling as he sits up, glancing to him he’s stretching his arms above his head, turning his head to you and you notice the panic now evident on his face.

“Hey.. uhh, are you okay? Did I scare you or something, I promise I didn’t kidnap you.” He watches you as you put on your bra, grabbing your shirt and jeans to put on.

“I didn’t realise I literally just fucked Harry Styles, sorry.” Looking into the full-size mirror he has next to the bed you fix your hair up, not noticing how he’s got out of his bed and put his boxers back on, you also didn’t notice how he winced from what you said, he didn’t like when he was labeled as just a famous celebrity a random girl had fucked after having the best sex he’s ever had.

“Hey, chill out. Calm down I’m not gonna like bite you or anything. Unless..” he walks up behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Harry, this isn’t funny. 15 year old me would be absolute screaming right now that I actually finally fucked Harry Styles.” Your face blooms in redness at the confession, you see him raise his eyebrows in the mirror, smiling.

“‘S really cute y’know, your dream coming true. You don’t have to go right now.” His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you back into his chest as you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror, clipping your earrings back into your ears.

You practically lose your breath as his hands caress your hips, all you want to do is pounce onto him and fuck him yet again. But you can’t, you always tended to have attachment issues and having them with Harry Styles was not the way to go.

You had to continue on with life and hide the fact that you hooked up with Harry in the back of your head.

“I have to go, Harry. I have a home and a life, maybe we can hook up some other time in like 3005 or something!” You muster up a smile for him, turning to look up at him, his eyes shine a beautiful emerald green, a dimple pokes out of his cheek, his lips a beautiful shade of pink.

Oh you wanted him so bad again, you knew Harry, from his music of course but you didn’t know or let’s say like him enough to be a fan, that’s for sure. He tugs on your hips again, your hands coming to his waist to brace yourself.

You did wonder if this is what the routine was with all his hookups, fuck them till he was satisfied? Part of you also didn’t think so as he was such a gentleman.

“Come on, darling. Jus’ a little bit longer? I promise, this is not what happens wit’ all the girls I have seen.” The pet name makes you all giddy, your hand coming up to comb through his chocolate curls.

“Are you just trying to make me feel bad for you so then I can follow your music and promote it and whatever?” You ask, eyebrow raising. You see he’s taken aback by that, his eyebrows creasing.

“No, no! Y/N im so sorry if it looks that way, oh my god. I promise that’s not- that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do.” You giggle at his panic, a little surprised that he remembered your name.

“I’m just kidding.” You smile as he pushes his bottom lip out in a soft pout, without thinking you push up onto your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his soft ones, he kisses you back almost instantly, innocently pecking your lips a few times before he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Harry then lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he moves back to the bed, mumbling something softly against your lips.

“Maybe you could give me your number or something if I prove to you that the night was really worth it.” He pulls away, a smirk on his lips, you laugh, biting your bottom lip softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Dream on Watermelon Sugar singer.”

You see a spark in his eyes and as he leans back in to kiss you again your vision goes black.

You feel heat on your body and your eyes snap open, the sun beaming on you, yet again. You look around the room, sitting up, you’re in your own room. You look beside you, a messy empty spot beside you.

Your head then whips to someone walking into the bedroom, it was your fiancée, a bright smile planted on his face seeing you’re finally awake.

“You were having a good dream so I didn’t want to wake you, sounded like you were having fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows, coming to move onto the bed, pulling you into his chest.

“Yeah, it was about the first time i met you.” You plant a kiss onto his bare chest, arms wrapping around his waist.

“Ohh, s’right when I was Watermelon Sugar boy.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “Lucky you finally gave into giving me your number and accepted me into your life, hey? Now m’getting married to my one night stand in two weeks.”

“You’re still a loser, Harry. And no I’m still not following your Spotify even when we’re married.” You mumble against him.

“Dang it.”

hehe lol this has no plot xx

dividers by @firefly-graphics 🤍

Always a Fineline

warnings - little angstyyy blurb!

summary - basically just you and harry divorcing. lol.

—————————————————————————

There sat the divorce papers between you and your husband, Harry.

Nothing had worked, you’d both been doing couples counselling and tried to build the love back up with endless dates and nights with just the two of you.

Still nothing.

You two weren’t toxic to each other, no, the spark between you both just wasn’t there anymore. It’s like the love between you and Harry had died down, all that was left was an empty hole in both of your hearts.

You met Harry while he was alone at a bar in 2013, from there you both built a really good relationship that soon turned romantic with Harry finally getting down onto one knee in 2016. Now, 2 years later you were both sat at the table Anne gave you and Harry after you’d both moved into the new house.

Harry stared down at the piece of paper, a sad gloomy dew clouding his eyes, the green appearing almost a dark grey colour.

Signing this paper was the last thing you’d have to do before parting ways for good.

“Who gets the house..?” Harry asks, holding the tip of the pen just above the signature box on the form, a frown prominent on his lips, eyes never leaving the paper.

“H, we already talked about this. I’m okay with staying with my parents till I get my new apartment.” You lean back in your chair slightly, eyes still on the curly headed boy you’d thought you’d always call home.

Harry nods sadly, bringing the pen down onto the paper, signing his name slowly before dropping it onto the page, sliding it across to the middle of the table. Yet, he still doesn’t look at you, his eyes still find his way to either the table, the wall behind you or the piece of paper.

“So.. that’s it?” He almost whispers, shrugging one shoulder, finally his eyes meet yours, both your hearts almost break, seeing the visible pain and tiredness on both of your faces, dark circles under your eyes from the lack of sleep due to the build up of this moment.

“You’ll be okay, Harry. I’m still gonna be here for you.” You smile sadly, trying to lighten the mood, even though there’s nothing light about this.

He shakes his head. “It won’t be the same as it was, Y/N. You know that.” He frowns, his head bowing down once again to avoid eye contact.

You stand up, walking around to his side of the table, hands softly coming in contact with his jaw, picking his face up so he’s looking up at you, like he’d always do when you were sad. “I know it won’t be the same, H. But we have to do this, do it for the sake of our mental health. All we’re doing is going around in circles, It’s an endless cycle of this.. of us.” You choke on a sob at the end, tears finally spilling out of your eyes.

Harry had tried so hard to be strong and not breakdown in front of you, but seeing you cry did it for him. Endless tears are shared between the two of you in what seems to be your last moments close to each other. “I still love you though Y/N.”

“Do you really love me or do you just love the thought of me being around you. Think about it Harry, our love is gone.” You lean down, pressing your forehead against his as you both cry, thumbs caressing the pads of his cheeks.

“I really wanted forever.” He whispers.

“Forever in another lifetime, i promise. We’ll be alright.”

————————————

2021, Las Vegas.

The screams of fans roar through the MGM Grand Garden Arena, it was his first show of Love On Tour where he’d debut his latest Fineline album.

Taking the place onto the centre of the stage, a crew member passes him his guitar as the stage rises up slightly, “This is a special one to me, i know a lot of you have been dying to hear it. I hope you love this song as much as I do.” He smiles, clapping and awes can be heard all around the stage.

The first strum of the guitar to the beat of Fineline is played, Harry takes a deep breath, a sudden emotion coming over him in a flashback of how this song was made. Who inspired this special song to him.

“Put a price on emotion, I’m looking for something to buy.”

“You’ve got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes.”

Singing from the crowd can be heard, harmonising Harry in a way no other concert could compare.

“We’ll be a fineline.”

“We’ll be a fineline.”

“We’ll be a fineline.”

Somewhere through the song Harry had closed his eyes, he finally opened them, looking out to the crowd, something in him tells him to take a quick glance up to the VIP box, so he does.

It takes time for him to recognise the person peering over the edge, before it clicks. Y/N.

The person that inspired him to make this album was watching Harry like a hunter show this special album of his to the world.

A small smile cracks at his lips before returning his eyes back to the crowd.

Maybe they will be a fineline.

————————————————————

TBH THIS WAS REALLY BAD AND SHORT CONSIDERING BUT IT IS MY FIRST EVERY WRITING PIECE SO DONT FEEL BAD IF YOU CRINGE BAHAHA!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK LOVE YA! I AM ALSO NEW TO WRITING SO THERES PROBS ALOT OF GRAMMAR ISSUES ALSO COS I RUSHED THIS WHILE LISTENING TO MONTELL FISH 😭

i dont exactly like this so feel free to skip like the whole thing!! this is my first time writing a piece like this even though i have many drafts put away, but I wanna say a big thank you to my kind friend @harringtons-honey for quite literally helping me for tips with my writing, i want to truly give you the world for that!!

A Drunk Video

Rating: Teen and up

Paring: Harry Styles x fem!reader (platonic pairing only)

Word Count: 3,641

Summary: You and Harry get absolutely wasted and make a decision to make a YouTube video. It was probably a bad decision

Warnings: lots of swearing, sexual themes but they’re all joking, WAP, small slut shaming

A/N: listen this was a fic I wrote aggggges ago. I just suddenly remembered it and wanted to share my sins with the masses. I’m not going to apologise for doing what’s RIGHT.

You hummed as you trotted up the stairs of the very modern apartment building. The grey walls were spotless and the bright white lights hung low.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you stepped onto the fourteenth floor landing. Why the hell did Harry even have an apartment? He was rich enough to buy a mansion. You contemplated this as you moved along the hall. Looking for the familiar 1402.

You smirked to yourself and knocked on the door. A few moments passed and the door swung open revealing the rock star himself. Harry’s Los Angeles apartment was very sleek. Harry in plaid pajama bottoms, a black jumper, and fuzzy socks, was not.

“Well someone looks comfortable for four pm.” You teased as he smiled at you. He nodded and opened the door wider to let his friend in.

“Had a rough night so I just wanted to be comfortable.” He said running a hand through his hair. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to openly stare.

“Rough night hmm?” You teased again, a grin on your face. Harry rolled his eyes and nudged your shoulder.

“I might’ve binge watched that show you like. The entire show.” Harry mumbled as he fell on his couch. You snickered as you slid down next to him. Harry groaned and moved so his head was on your smaller shoulder.

“You binge watched Sherlock in one day? I’m impressed.” You laughed out as you ran your hand through his messy hair. Harry nuzzled more into you, trying to feel more of you scratch his head.

“Benedict Cumberbatch is.” Harry moved away slightly to put his hand in the air. He made the ‘okay’ sign and you laughed.

“That he is.” You nodded as Harry settled back down onto you. You two laid like that for a few minutes. You absentmindedly twirling and scratching Harry’s hair as you stared out of the giant windows making up his far wall. The busy Los Angeles evening greeted your site. It was comfortable.

“You want to order some food?” Harry spoke, his voice completely muffled by your shoulder. You smiled down at him. You were sure that if anyone could see you, they could tell how much you cared for the man. It wasn’t a romantic adoration, just true love for another person without expectations or further meanings. You just simply loved him.

“If you want. Pizza?” You asked, making you feel Harry’s smile press into you. He shifted so his head was lying on your lap. Harry stared up at you before closing his eyes peacefully.

“Read my mind.” He hummed as you ran a hand through his thick hair again. You smiled softly and brought your phone out of your pocket. You two ordered a pizza each and remained cuddled up until the doorbell rang.

Harry sighed and untangled himself from your lap. He padded over to the door as he ruffled his hair, trying to get it to appear less flat. He opened the door and greeted the delivery man with a smile.

You picked at the threads of your ripped jeans and flowed into the kitchen. As Harry was talking, you grabbed some plates and cups and brought them to Harry’s small glass table.

“We should film something for your channel.” Harry said as he closed the door behind him, the boxes being clutched in his arms. You smiled at him and nodded. You always felt a little guilty whenever you featured Harry on your channel. You never wanted for him to feel as if you were clout chasing. You were friends with him before you became big on YouTube and you wanted him to remember that.

“Yeah, we could sing some songs. Make it stupid.” You mused propping your chin on your hand. Harry smiled as you, dimples popping. He served you a slice and sat next to you in his seat.

“Make it stupid.” He agreed. The two always made sure that if they were going to post something, it had to be for laughs. Anything serious between you two was unheard of.

You had been a part of the Eroda music video. You had actually helped direct it. You and Harry had been drunk in Peru when the thought struck you both, and it was a collaborate idiotic idea that created the music video. To say that a few months later, you were dressed with weird hair as Harry sang to a fish, was serious? Absolutely not. You two just wanted to make something stupid. And you both fully succeeded.

As you two ate, you brainstormed on what you were going to sing. With a few glasses of wine in your stomachs, you had both equally bad ideas.

“Fuck.” You hissed as you accidentally spilled your wine on your clothes. Harry giggled as he eased the glass out of your hands.

“I think you drank too much,” He smiled and you couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ll go get you some clothes. You probably have some here anyway.”

You tried to dab the wine off you, but rolled your eyes. It was pointless. As you started to drum on the table, Harry chucked some clothes at your back. Your mouth opened in shock and you flipped him off.

You just pulled your shirt off and put a loose grey shirt then your short shorts on. Your usual go-to sleep clothes. You didn’t really care that you were changing in front of Harry. Lord knows you were comfortable enough with each other to see each other in your underwear. You looked up and Harry wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Let’s get this show on the road then, pop star.” You giggled as you leaned over and ruffled his hair. Harry looked at you lazily and watched you with half closed eyes. You wiped your hands on your shorts and set up your camera, focusing it on the two couches by Harry’s TV.

“Looks like we’re filming a porno.” Harry snickered, a wide smile on his face as he wiped his eyes. You smiled at him and flipped him off.

“You wish.” You sang as you put your laptop on his kitchen counter. You leaned forward and began typing with a smirk on your face.

“Imagine if we did have sex though.” Harry said. You furrowed your eyebrows and turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“Boy, I love you, but you are not touching me. Especially when we’re both drunk.” You said with a slight grimace. Harry pouted and leaned back in his chair.

“You take the fun out of everything.” He giggled and leaned his elbows on his table. He continued to watch you and a big smile spread over your face suddenly. You looked over at him with an evil glint in your eyes and Harry gulped. He especially didn’t like it when you gave him that look. The last time you turned to him with the evil eye, Harry had been convinced to be strapped onto a helicopter for the Sign of the Times music video as you laughed from behind the camera.

Little did Harry know you had picked a song conviently called Harry by Kelsey Karter. Kelsey wrote the song about your friend here. She posted a picture on Instagram with a tattoo of Harry on her cheek promoting the song. You had found it when the picture came out and it was honestly a banger. You also adored that Kelsey did it all for a publicity stunt and the tattoo wasn’t even real. Genius.

“Come to the couch H.” You teased as you hit record on your camera. Harry narrowed his eyes at you and fell over the back of his couch and laid down long ways.

Harry watched as you said your intro a few times. You kept stumbling over your words in your intoxicated state and that for whatever reason made Harry giggle. You flipped him off and smiled at the camera sweetly.

“This is my friend Harry,” Harry smiled, his dimples popping as he waved to the camera. He slouched down in his comfortable clothes, matching your attire. He was sure that once this video aired he was going to be clowned for how domestic you both looked, but he didn’t care. The sight of you two so content and in a state of bliss was very rare. You scrunched your nose at him. Something he returned happily.

“We’re going to sing you some songs, if you like. Harry, you want to go first?” You asked him as you cocked your head to the side. Harry tapped his chin in mock thought and shook his head.

“Your channel, you can go first.” He said, his voice drawing out slowly. You smirked and nodded.

“I’d like to just say that me and Harry are both pretty drunk. Also we were talking about porn earlier so there is slight context to why I’m doing this.” Harry put his head in his hands and groaned. He knew that you were carefree enough to be okay with putting that on the Internet and he just had to accept that. And be prepared to put twitter on silent.

You walked over to Harry’s kitchen counter. Your laptop was opened and shining brightly in the slightly dim room. You tapped on it, making sure to keep it from the camera and Harry’s pryful eyes.

You smirked as the music started and fluffed your hair as you walked over to Harry. You tugged him to sit up on the couch and began to sing.

“I blacked out, passed out, first time we met. It wasn't drugs, could be love, but it's probably sex.” You sat on the couch next to him and at ‘sex’ you put a hand on his thigh. Harry raised his eyebrows at you as you smiled and continued to sing along with the recording.

“Cool stare, greased hair curled around your eye. I wanna take a dirty picture, send it to your mind, I'm not just thinkin' 'bout you.” You ran your hand through his hair again and Harry smiled a little wider. You moved your hand down to his neck and ran it down to his chest.

“I'll treat you better than the girls you're hangin' out with. Take you to heaven and I'll show you all around it. I'll never ever let you down. Ooh.” You moved off the couch and circled to the back. Wrapping your arms around his neck and leaned down and sang into his ear. You blew in it making Harry giggle as a drunk flush came over his features.

“Harry. I'm gonna make you love me, you’re gonna make me breakfast. It's a secret just between us we can keep it low-key. I ain't being funny, you should be so lucky to put your, put your velvet arms around me.” You fell over the back of the couch like Harry did earlier. But this time you put your legs around his waist as you made him wrap his arms around your shoulders. Harry laughed at this and bobbed his head to the music, showing to you and the camera that he didn’t care for your sexual intentions just as much as he knew you didn’t care to really make it sexual.

“I'm g-g-g-g-gonna make you love me.” You sang and they both tried to not burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I'm staring at you in the magazines every day. Feel like I'm seventeen never been touched this way. I'm thinking 'bout you.” You rolled off him to sit on his coffee table. With idiotic acting you crossed your legs and pulled up one of the magazines that was laying there. You gazed over the top of it with a smirk and Harry wiggled his fingers in a wave.

“I'll treat you better than the boys you're hangin' out with.” You bit your lip and leaned back on the coffee table. You knew you looked like an idiot, but that was the point.

“Take you to heaven and I'll show you all around it. I'll never ever let you down. Ooh Harry.” You rotated your head like a snake charmer and at the beat dropped, you sunk to your knees in front of Harry. He laughed and spread his legs so he could look at you.

“I'm gonna make you love me. You're gonna make me breakfast. It's a secret just between us we can keep it low-key. I ain't being funny. You should be so lucky to put your, put your velvet arms around me.” You tried not to laugh as you stood up and started to dance ‘erotically’. Harry leaned back and pretended to make it rain on you.

“Oh, Harry, Harry. Mmmm, Harry.” You got back on the floor and crawled the short distance to the couch. Making sure to overemphasize your shoulder blades moving.

“Oh, baby, I'm gonna make you love me. Yeah. So put your, put your, put your arms around me.” You sat next to Harry and pushed him to lay down. As you hit the end of the lyrics you laid across his body as Harry laughed obnoxiously.

“I'm gonna, I'm gonna. Gonna, gonna make you love me. Harry!” You sat up and started to twerk horribly on him making Harry cover his face with his arm and he tried not to cry laughing. You made your voice crack on the last note of the song and Harry couldn’t help himself. He tackled you off the couch as you doubled over laughing.

“Are you trying to get me hard in front of all of these people?” Harry joked hovering over you. You snickered and looked behind you at the camera. You caught your breath and nodded at Harry with a grin to match his.

“Mmhm.”

“Well it didn’t work so that’s embarrassing for you.” Your jaw dropped in mock offense and Harry narrowed his eyes at you. You both stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before Harry lost it and you both started laughing again. Harry rolled off you, still giggling.

“So that was Harry by Kelsey Karter. I actually showed this song to Harry. We both had a very entertaining time.” You said, popping up to talk to the camera. Harry put his head on your shoulder and smiled.

“My song is a lot less suggestive. Because this is a family show,” Harry cut you off and you covered your face with your hand. A bright smile spread across your face. Harry leaned forward to look at you.

“Or is itttttt?” You both said and were sent into a new fit of drunken hysterics.

“If you could take that seat there,” Harry said as he pulled you back onto the couch that he was sitting in earlier. He skipped over to your laptop and began typing.

“Get ready to get your panties wet.” He said loudly, making you laugh. You knew you were going to have to edit that out but for now you just laughed at Harry’s brash, drunk personality.

He cleared his throat and clicked play on you laptop. Your mouth dropped. He was not doing this on camera for potentially millions to see. Holy shit.

“Whores in this house. There's some whores in this house.”

You covered your mouth as Harry moved around and danced like a weirdo. He started doing the robot and you leaned your head back in a cackle. You were so fucking glad you were filming this.

“I said certified freak, seven days a week. Wet-ass pussy, make that pullout game weak!” Harry rapped out choppily and started dancing again. You watched him make up horrible moves and he started doing the dance routine One Direction always did which made you almost jump out of your seat.

“Put this pussy right in your face. Swipe your nose like a credit card. Hop on top, I wanna ride I do a kegel while it's inside. Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes. This pussy is wet, come take a dive. Tie me up like I'm surprised. Let's role play, I'll wear a disguise.” Harry rapped, gaining more of a flow the longer he rapped. You were surprised at how well he knew the lyrics. He spun around his living room and you laughed again.

“I want you to park that big Mack truck right in this little garage.” He yelled, dropping to his knees. You shoved a pillow over your face to keep from screaming as tears of laughter rolled down your face.

“Gobble me, swallow me, drip down the side of me. Quick, jump out 'fore you let it get inside of me. I tell him where to put it, never tell him where I'm 'bout to be. I'll run down on him 'fore I have a n**** running me. Talk your shit, bite your lip.” Harry spit out. He put his hand over his mouth when the n word came up and then he slid forward grabbing your hand. He put it to his heart as he rapped.

“Now get your boots and your coat for this wet-ass pussy. He bought a phone just for pictures of this wet-ass pussy. Pay my tuition just to kiss me on this wet-ass pussy. Now make it rain if you wanna see some wet-ass pussy.” Harry winked and lay on the coffee table with his arm propping his head up as he laid down.

“Look, I need a hard hitter, I need a deep stroker. I need a Henny drinker, I need a weed smoker. Not a garden snake, I need a king cobra with a hook in it, hope it lean over.” He pointed at you and your smile widened as you wiggled your shoulders and mouthed out ‘Yass’.

“I don't wanna spit, I wanna gulp. I wanna gag, I wanna choke. I want you to touch that lil' dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat.” At this Harry slid off the table and brought you to stand with him. He moved around and horribly tried to ballroom dance as you laughed so hard you could barely hear the blaring music of Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.

“Your honor, I'm a freak bitch, handcuffs, leashes. Switch my wig, make him feel like he cheating. Put him on his knees, give him something to believe in. Never lost a fight, but I'm looking for a beating.” Harry twirled you out of his arms and punched the air to the sound effect of the fighting bell. You were feeling inspired and started to twerk like Tina Belcher. Harry tried so hard to not laugh, he almost stopped rapping.

“In the food chain, I'm the one that eat ya. If he ate my ass, he's a bottom feeder. Big D stand for big demeanor. I could make you bust before I ever meet ya.” Harry spun you around and winked obnoxiously.

He dipped you and you pushed him off as you fell to the ground. Your laughter took over you. You did not expect him to rap about getting rimmed, but you were so glad you were recording.

“If he fuck me and ask, "Whose is it?" When I ride the dick, I'ma spell my name. Ah.” You couldn’t help yourself and you started rapping along with him.

Harry jumped on his couch and pulled you up with him. You both just jumped around and laughed as the music continued to play.

“Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy.” Harry wiggled his shoulders like ‘the wobble’ as he slowly snuck to his knees on the couch.

“Now from the top, make it drop. That's some wet-ass pussy.” At this, Harry grabbed the back of your knees and pulled them to him. You shrieked as you fell on his body and you both laughed as you fell onto the couch.

“I'm talking WAP, WAP, WAP.” You couldn’t help but shout this with Harry and you rolled off him and onto the floor.

You propped your chin on the couch as he circled it and stood behind it. With his hands on the back he leaned down so you were a few inches apart.

“That's some wet-ass pussy. Macaroni in a pot.” he whispered leaning way to close to you. You fell back and hit the coffee table with a bang. You clutched your elbow in pain, but kept laughing at him. Harry couldn’t help himself and as the song finished up. He just doubled over the couch and cracked up.

The song started over, but you both were too far gone from laughing to pay attention. Harry’s apartment was full of laughter as your faces went red and you gasped for breath.

“Harry oh my god!” You shrieked and threw a pillow at him. He slapped his thigh and as he giggled.

“We’re making ourselves appear as a pair of sluts.” You said and pushed off the couch to stand up. Harry giggled and nodded.

“Less suggestive my ass.” You teased with a smirk and Harry snickered.

“Yup!” He exclaimed. Harry hopped over the back of his couch to sit down as he tried to regain his breathing. You moved to sit next to him. You were both flushed with big smiles and you waved at the camera.

“Bye!” You yelled and Harry waved too. You moved to turn the camera off and you plopped back onto the couch.

“What the fuck even was that video?!” You exclaimed and Harry smiled at you and shrugged.

“Just say we’re drunk. Then everything makes sense.” He said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You nodded and covered your face with your hands. You knew this was going to break the internet and honestly you couldn’t wait.

Sliding down the bed

Some cute stuff because why not. Not proofread btw !

Harry could tell you the first time it happened in a heartbeat. A month into their relationship and at his house.

She had come over for a date night, Harry had cooked some veggie pastas with a bit of pesto sauce. They had watched a movie, the Notebook precisely, and of course, had done the nasty before going to sleep.

It was around two in the morning, when Harry woke feeling a bit cold and confused.

The space beside him was empty and cold, meaning she had left a few time ago already. When he sat up to look at the time, Harry felt a mass ogling his leg.

And there she was, legs dangling out of the bed, on her stomach. Her left arm was draped over his legs while her right arm had slipped under the small of his back, fingers gripping his love handles.

Harry’s heart fluttered. There was something very intimate about her position. The fact that they were both naked, for starters, but also the way her head rested against his thigh, her cheek squished against his soft skin, close to where his most intimate region was, felt way more intimate than a simple naked cuddle.

She was too beautiful, and looked too peaceful to be woken up. Harry laid back down softly, and with a dreamy sigh threaded his fingers through her hair.

The second time it happened was well deep into their relationship. They were in Italy, on a rented yacht away from preying eyes. They had fell asleep on this big mattress to the sounds of waves crashing against the boat.

Harry was the first to wake up, feeling too hot and sweaty down there. He raised his upper body on his elbows, having a feeling that the reason behind his sweatiness was his girlfriend. And there she was again, spread against him.

Harry laughed, this time was more funny and cute than intimate. She was laying between his legs, arms around his middle and her head resting on his pelvis. If anyone saw, it might have looked like she was not sleeping, judging by the fact that her mouth was literally open and drooling on his crotch.

That thought spurred something in him, and well Harry didn’t woke her up, but little him did.

Risk it - Harry Styles

a/n: this came so fast and typed most of it out at work lmao, but i kinda dig how it turned out!! hope you’ll like it too! as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

You shake yourself a little bit to get rid of the spicy coldness that’s been lingering around in the city in the past few days. It’s only the end of August, but feels more like late October, though they say the warmness will return for a few more weeks shortly. That would be much needed, you’d love to enjoy some more lunches out in a park or down near the river before you are forced to withdraw into the insides for the rest of the year.

Looking around in the packed pub you look for the familiar golden locks of Piper and you quickly spot her in one of the corner booths, laughing joyfully with pinked cheeks probably from the almost empty pint of beer in front of her. Marching through the place you slide into the booth joining the group of three.

“And there she is!” Piper cheers.

“We thought you’re gonna bail on us,” Abigail snickers and you just roll your eyes.

“I said I would come, just had some work to finish before,” you tell them, shaking your cardigan down your arms quickly, the air is thicker, mustier and much warmer in here, but it’s not surprising, the pub is packed, just as usual on a Friday evening.

“You work way too much,” Piper shakes her head in disapproval as she downs the rest of her drink.

Keep reading

As It Was - Harry Styles

Can someone recommend me any good heartache series?!? Completed once if possible.

Louder than words

Butter, Sugar, Flour and A pinch of cinnamon

“It looks delicious baby”

I turned around to see Harry behind me,

“what are you making today”

I smiled and pointed at the recipe on the counter,

“Cinnamon bread? you spoil me too much”

I smiled again and he planted a kiss on my bare shoulder.

“How much longer do you have on these?” 

I glanced at the clock, doing the math in my head. I put out 10 fingers

“Alright, supposed I can wait”

I cocked my head at him, raising an eyebrow

“no, no, I’ll just wait till your done, Finish your bread”

I shook my head at him fondly pouring the batter into the tin

“Hey”

I looked at him

“You’re pretty”

I rolled my eyes, sprinkling the crumb topping over the butter. As soon as I put the tin in the over, I felt his arms wrapping around me. I laughed leaning into him

“you can take a break before cleaning up, can you?” he whispered into my ear.

I deliberated a moment before nodding my head and instantly he was kissing my neck.

I laughed at him wrapping my arms around his waist, he twirled me around the kitchen, dipping me into an impromptu dance. When at last he stopped spinning he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you”he muttered against my skin

I tapped his heart with two fingers. He held my hand to his chest looking into my eyes, and the smile he gave me make me feel like I was falling in love all over again.

After a moment, he set to helping me clean the kitchen. But only succeed in smearing batter across the counter. Shaking my head, I took the cloth from his hand and did it the right way.

He planted a kiss in my hair, murmuring a thank you.

When the bread was done, I pulled it from the oven and cut us a thick slice. We sat at the table in silence enjoying the food and one another.

“Hey” 

I looked up to him

“I love you”

And a part of me wished I could say it back, but I knew he knew that actions speak louder than words. 

(this is a work by aknier, a short story I found online)

Glamour Interview with Harry Styles

Summary: Harry Styles and the Reader Y/N did the couple Glamour interview.

“My relationship with Harry?” You smiled into the camera while, Harry stands next to you smiling curiously. You and Harry has been extremely nervous accepting this interview, since even though you both are public figure, you guys choose to be very private with your life and relationship. But since it’s been almost 2 years since you guys are together, this would be the first time you both did a couple interview. And as Harry said it would be a good present to the fans who has been supporting you.

“Ok, perfect who wants to go first?” The director asks us. I turned to look at Harry who has his hand ready for me to hold, and squeezed my hand before turning to the camera.

“Ladies first!” he said while bowing and guiding me to the shot.

“How did I met Harry? hmmmm..?” you said “Well, we met at Selena Gomez concert, we were both seated on the VIP section, And I did the awkward hello. I mean he is Harry Styles, I know him and been a huge fan of his music, while I’m just a friend of celebrities. But yeah for me it was awkward and shy introduction.” Y/n stated while recalling how you first met Harry.

“Cut, Perfect. Harry your turn”, the director said. while Harry nods and walked to where I was. he winks at me while playfully pushing me off the shot.

“The first time I saw Y/n was at Selena’s concert. She said hi to me awkwardly, but I actually heard of her from a mutual friend, so I know she’s a fan of my fan” Harry smiled cheekily.

“That’s good. Y/N, your first impression of Harry” the producer asked.

“The goofiest man I have ever seen” i joked truthfully, and everyone on the studio laughed with me. “But honestly since I known him as a part of One direction, I though, he was your typical celebrity. But seeing him at Selena’s concert singing the lyrics while doing this goofy dance, I just thought maybe he’s not your typical rock star!” Y/N said sincerely while giving a Harry a smile.

‘Okay Harry, your first Impression of Y/N?” the producer said.

“Honestly, Gorgeous! simply beautiful”. Harry exclaimed. “I was honestly star-trucked. I mean she is gorgeous, but very simple. she got the biggest and most sincere smile I have ever seen. I was very intrigued and I told my self that I want to know this person more.” Harry added sincerely while staring directly at Y/n.

‘How do you describe your relationship’?

“Okay, this time I’ll start’, Harry said “The best way to describe my relationship with Y/n is like were childhood couple and married couple at the same time” he smiles “We are so comfortable with each other and we simply complete each other” he finished making you and the other staff smile. 

“My relationship with Harry, is super fun!, I feel like I can be myself. Our relationship is very effortless that we just match. My Relationship with Harry was the most sincere and easiest relationship I ever had” Y/n answered.

‘What did you learn from the other person?’ the director asked

“Y/n has taught me to always be sincere and real, to always be thankful and give back. To simply be a good person. I mean in this industry that I am in there can be time where I feel superior and vain, but Y/n has always been there to keep me grounded and I’m very thankful for her”. Harry said sincerely.

“Harry taught me how to have fun and enjoy life, he taught me that life is short and to enjoy everything that I do. he taught me how to forgive and move on, he’s really good at that” I tried to smile while feeling my eyes getting watery.

‘Love’ Harry interrupts, while approaching me. The room grew quiet as he wrap his arm around me and pecks my lips.

‘Something you guys bond over?’ the director asked

“We like to explore, we bond over how we like to explore new places , we find new placed to eat. we both love to travel, but there are lazy days where we never leave the house” He admit while squeezing your hand.

“Definitely our love for food, we both enjoy cooking so we would experiment new dishes to try. and just spend out time at home watching movies and just being together.” y/n smiles

‘What does your relationship means to you?’

“Being in a relationship with Y/n means everything to me, She’s my person you know” he smiled lovingly at you “She is one of the most important person in my life, and right now I cant imagine life without Y/n.” he added sincerely. 

“I Love her!” he finished.

“He means a lot to me, I also found my person in him” you giggled and cover your face to hide your nervousness “Right now I cannot imagine a life without Harry Styles and I am happy that I met him.” I added.

“I love him too!” you finished making Harry and the staffs laugh.

 “The question part of the interview is done, Now you have to compliment each other back and forth. What you need to do is stare at each others eyes, hold hand and say things you like about each other” the director instructed.

Y/n and Harry moved to the front of the camera holding each other hand and staring at each others eyes, while trying not to laugh.

Harry smiles at me sincerely, his smile that can calm me down while starting.

“You have the purest eyes, when I look at it its like I am looking at the universe.” he confessed while looking directly on your eyes.

“oh that’s so sweet” you giggled while caressing the side of his hand with your thumb. “You are sexy! and that smile, Darn!” you exclaimed making everyone laugh while Harry looked down trying to hide his blush.

“You’re so caring” he started again after the room become quiet “You take care of me without expecting anything” this time he leans in and your lips softly yet quickly.

“You are so talented, not only with your music but with everything you do. You always give your 100% and I always admire you for that”. you sincerely said, while Harry looks down feeling shy with the compliment.

* You and Harry continue complimenting each other for a while until the director said its time to move on.

‘Now I want you guys to hug each other for a minute’, the director told us

“Only for a minute?” Harry complains “that is for amateur,  come here love”. You laugh as he walks up to you and wrap his arms around you.

“this is so weird” you giggled into his neck

“did you wash your hair today” he jokes while smelling your hair teasing you.”you know I did” you whispered, “it smells good love” as he laughs.

‘okay 3.2.1 done! now for the final task look into each others eyes and tell each other a message’, the director instructed.”lets start with Harry”

“Thanks you!” Harry started quietly and sincerely while staring at you lovingly, “Thank you for coming into my life, I am thankful that I have met an incredible person who has been always there for me. I know that I’m a handful sometimes but thank you for understanding and loving me. Please understand that I can be too much sometimes but know this, I am always your Harry and your Harry that will never stop admiring and loving you.” Harry sincerely said making you cry and laugh at the same time. “I love you so much” he whispered to you while giving you a peck in the lips.

“Okay your turn make me cry” he jokingly said lifting the mood.

“Dear Harry” you jokingly started making him smile. “I want to say thank you for coming into my life and making my life an adventure. I want to tell you that I am always here cheering for you and always supporting you on whatever you do. I am so proud of you. Thank you for making me a better person and for making my life fun and exciting. I honestly cannot imagine my life without you in it. Keep being you, and I will always be your Y/n.” you sincerely said looking at Harry’s teary eyes. “I love you so much too” you whispered while hugging him.

*After the emotional messaged from each other, the director instructed Harry and Y/n to say goodbye to this interview*.

“Thank you for watching the Glamour Interview with Y/n and Harry Styles” You and Harry Said at the same time.”Goodbye” Y/n and Harry screamed while the director said cut.

* The interview comes to an end. We both thanks and bid our goodbye to everyone on the set.

Harry looked at me and said “we did great” he said leaning in and pecking my lips.

“we sure did” I answered leaning on him and making our way home..

X FACTOR

HELLO LOVERS!! this is my very first fake instagram fic so i do apologise if this is a bit shit, but if you like it i will continue this and make it a bit of a series/fic thingy.

had no clue who to choose as a face claim so i decided to use ari! <33

Summary: Y/N supports her big brother when he goes to the x factor!!

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Y/Nhorran

Liked by niallhoran and 64 others

Y/Nhorran I can’t believe my smelly big bother just sang infront of KATY PERRY!!!! LIKE WHAT? No no in all seriousness im so proud of you, dont forget me when your all big and famous!!!

p.s next round tell katy i love her!! xx

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Niallhoran Thanks tiny ❤️ I’ll be sure to tell her next time she comes round for tea, shall I? You are a melon aren’t ya x

Y/Nhoran Yes that would be much appreciated thank you! xx

Maura.horan He is a cutie isnt he! We’re all so proud my love xx

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Y/Nhoran

Liked by Niallhoran and 72 others

Y/Nhoran LOOK AT THESE MUPETS!! Who knew Ni-Ni could fly? Crazy days.

ANYWAYS IM SO PROUD OF YOU NIALL, LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH!!!! xx

(thank you mumzy for catching my reaction x)

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Niallhoran Thanks pumpkin, now come to my room so I give you a big cuddle xxx

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Niallhoran

Liked by Y/Nhoran and 172 others

Niallhoran Tiny has been watching my X Factor performances at least twice a day for the last week, as much as i love her support, she needs to turn it the fuck down! xx

view all 42 comments

Harrystyles Don’t be horrid Nialler

Y/Nhoran Yeah ni-ni, listen to your mate.

Maura.horan Aw she just loves ya, darling x

Niallhoran Don’t be on her side mum!!

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Y/N lounged on the comfortable bean bag she had brought into Niall's bedroom, her eyes fixed on the vibrant posters that adorned the walls. The room was a mix of music and Hannah Montana memorabilia, a reflection of Niall's interests. The soft hum of their favorite tunes played in the background, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Niall, her big brother, sprawled out on his bed with a guitar in hand, strumming casually as they shared stories and laughter. His fingers strummed the strings effortlessly, a skill he had gained over the years. Y/N admired her brother's musical talent, feeling a sense of pride as he effortlessly played familiar tunes.

During their childhood, the two often enjoyed karaoke, and other musical activities together, finding comfort in each other's singing. Y/N, having a desire to audition for the X Factor alongside Niall, never mustered the courage, letting him take the stage and eventually become a part of the growing band, One Direction. As the five boys' musical journey unfolded, Y/N eagerly looked forward to meeting them, hoping they were as friendly as Niall made them out to be.

“So when ya’ gonna come meet me mates then?” Niall questioned looking up from his guitar almost like he was reading your mind.

“Not sure you know, whenever really.” She said with a shrug looking back down at her phone and quickly messaging someone back.

“I’ll sort something for ya pumpkin, these are my best mates! Need to meet them at some point.” Niall sent her a soft loving smile beginning to think up ideas to make the day they all met even more special.

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A note from moi: Im sorry it’s so short but i really didn’t know what to do for the first post but i hope this was okay and i’ll be making better as time goes on 🫶🏻🩷 Remember to eat, drink water and wear your suncream, love ya’s xx

Taglist: (if you want to be on the taglist just let me know!)

HEY POOKIES!! i have finished the first chapter of the nialls sister story and it will be out at 4:00 GMT tonight!!!

hey pookies <3

what are we thinking about a harry styles, nialls sista fake insta fic???? like im feeling it but like are you feeling it???? i need to know- PLUS WHY IS THERE NO NIALLS SISTER FICS LIKE WHAT THE FRICK FRACK PADDY WACK GIVE A DOG A BONE???

NEways love ya <3

Bumping this up because it's still my favorite piece that I have ever written and we're nearing the territory of the most wonderful time of the year! 😇🎄✨

"Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." MASTERPOST

A best friends to lovers Christmas story featuring the best JB song of all time: Mistletoe.

Set in the too-white Winter Wonderland of a bungalow and the Cheshire Christmas Market, Bunny and Sunflower spend their first Christmas Eve together alone.

A sparkling 39.3k words, this is a holiday whirlwind of a story that's both soft and fluffy like the winter snow, and warm and crackling at the touch like sitting by the fireside.

My gift for myself and to all of you,

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, lovelies! 🌟

Chapters:

- The First Cup of Hot Chocolate

- The Second Serving of Cranberry Sausage Rolls

- The Third Piece of Mistletoe Cookies

Should Bunny Keep Driving?

Author's note 💌

There's just no way that my creative juices would flow if it didn't contain my newest (and concerning) Formula 1 obsession. Since I'm not blessed with Harry Styles F1 content, I decided to bring F1 to my Harry Styles universe because I'm quite delusional like that 😂

This surely won't be the last F1 AU I'd be composing, so I kindly suggest you also avail my F1 fangirl starter pack if you want to fully join me in this wild ride: read the entire Dirty Air Series by Lauren Asher, and binge seasons 1-4 of Drive To Survive. But unlike me, please don't do all that in a single month 🙈

Anyway, enough rambling on my end. I hope you lovelies enjoy this one because it certainly did wonders to my mental well-being. It reminded me why writing is a passion I could always find solace in, no matter the rough and dull moments life inevitably brings my way. I could only hope this brings some brightness to someone out there, happy reading! 🥰🧡🏎️

🐇🐇🐇

There’s a lot to be said about my profession as a Formula 1 driver. Many would say I’m living the bachelor dream: driving fast cars on most weekends of the year, with money and women free-flowing my way like every drop of champagne being popped on the podium. Some - like my sweet dear mother - would prefer to call me a ‘reckless adrenaline junkie’: being strapped on a death vehicle for a living is worth no benefit; surely an occupation only lunatics will take. All other versions of such claims I have heard, but one I haven’t is the assumption that Formula 1 drivers are inept in basic navigation.

Well thank fuck no tabloid or social media post has said anything about that, or there’s no denying I would be the laughing butt of the joke for the rest of this season. I could already picture it, in bold and underlined letters: ‘Harry Styles, McLaren F1 team’s Golden Boy is found lost in the streets of Italy. Can he make it back in time for the Imola Grand Prix?’

Well looking at the way the doors of my bright orange vehicle had remained stuck towards the roof, there’s no telling that I can actually make it to free practice tomorrow. All I had wanted was to have this day off from any racing obligation, to enjoy the brightness of Emilia Romania, Italy even for just this single day. 

What had I told my teammate Nick Grimshaw when I turned down his idea of golfing to make plans for my own today? Oh, that I ‘wanted to get lost in the beauty of an Italian summer.’ Now isn’t that bloody fucking ironic as I’m standing here under the heat of the blazing Italian summer sun, my too hightech for my own good sportscar failing me in God knows where, when all I wanted was to go to this specific beach where I can sit on the smooth sand and peacefully watch the sunset.

“So much for spending billions on car upgrades,” I walked my way back into the interior of the car, trying my best to figure out what was wrong with the technological system that had caused the engine to stop at the side of this random Italian street. 

I’m not one to feel regret on a daily basis, choosing to believe that everyone should be kinder to themselves, and that giving yourself a hard time for something that occurred in the past won’t help anything. Well in this scenario, I can’t help but feel even just a smidge of regret when James Corden, McLaren’s CEO, my friend and ultimately my boss, had first offered me to use a vintage McLaren on my solo Italian trip today. Knowing how much of a grandpa I can be with today’s rapid technological development, I feel like an absolute bloody idiot for not agreeing to that, and instead chose this green energy-powered vehicle that looks more like a worthless pile of steel and metal.

Realizing that my lack of knowledge with advanced cars had not been strengthened in the gap between this morning and right now, I sighed for the nth time this afternoon and stepped-out of the car once more. Standing at the side of the street, I tilted my head to look at the immaculate crimson and yellow Italian homes, noticing in dismay that it’s backdrop of the sun will start to set in about an hour from now.

With nothing left to do but actually call for help, I tried to reason with my stubborn and prideful self that calling for the towing company does not negatively affect my competency as a racing driver. Only that it does. I know deep inside that even just a tiny bit, it does say something about my lack of initiative in furthering my knowledge in my field. But I know that situation needs to be rectified after I get myself out of this current dilemma.

“Harry, you’re no good alone.” I found myself saying to no one in particular but myself, definitely learning a thing or two about accepting your own flaws as a good character development thanks to my older sister. Accompanied by those words of conviction physically ringing in my ears, I pulled out my phone, ready to make the dreaded call of defeat.

Except she arrived just in time to halt my actions.

She, being a blonde girl about my age, riding a bike while singing along to some pop song I heard my friend Niall singing in the shower, that particular time we flew over together for the Monaco Grand Prix. But it’s not that specific song that had ceased my movements. It’s her bright yellow bag slung to her shoulder, the color a perfect match to the colorful bikini top she was wearing under some denim dungarees. While being under the rays of the Italian sun, she just looked so golden.

I don’t know how long I had stood there like a fool just staring at her glowing presence, but I was brought back to my wits when the music stopped playing. In a blink, I noticed that the girl had halted her bike just in-front of my broken car, frowning in my direction.

“Hey, are you okay?” She called out, even her voice sounded so bright in my ears I’m starting to wonder if this woman is sunshine personified.

“I’m good.” was my reply like the aforementioned damn fool that I was that not only didn’t know how to operate the newest models of sports cars, but apparently, I also can’t find my words when talking to gorgeous and kind strangers.

She didn’t seem to believe my words, head tilted in curiosity. She side-stepped from the seat of her bike and walked to stand in front of me at the side of the street. With about two feet separating us, she placed both of her hands on her waist.

“I’m pretty sure we’re both British considering your accent,” she offered me a kind smile, “and back from where I’m from in England, people standing on the side of the barest of streets with an open car a few feet away from them, usually doesn’t mean the person is doing well. But that’s just me,” she shrugged, “I don’t know how things are from your part of England.”

Call me entitled or jaded, but it’s been a long time that someone aside from my close circle had been at ease or even just possessed the confidence to tease me. So long in fact that I let out a snort from her words, followed directly by a bubble of laughter that has got me bent in half, with my hands placed on my knees for support. All the while, this funny lady continued to stand just a few feet away from me like my absolute out-of-the-blue guffawing hadn’t alerted her that I was nuts.

“You’re definitely not okay then,” confirming my belief, she chuckled along in my sudden fit of insanity.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” I straightened up, remembering my manners. “It’s just been a long time since I heard something that funny at my expense and said directly to my face. And, it’s just been a long day.” My eyes travel unwillingly to my hopeless vehicle, a sigh leaving my smiling lips upon remembering the task I was supposed to do.

I noticed her own eyes following the trail of my own, her whistle of appreciation to what she saw is not lost in my ears. “You’re definitely having a long day if you got this baby to cruise around Italy with.”

Sounds to me like she's a car enthusiast. And why that interests me, I don’t know. “Not long enough I believe, since the baby stopped here and barely even crawled.”

My humor somehow landed on her, the sides of her lips curving when she looked back at me. “You’re quite funny,” the sincerity in her tone made me return her smile. “And I’m not just saying that because you just laughed like you were losing it a few seconds back. But what I find way more hilarious is how a McLaren racing driver like yourself, gets stuck in the middle of nowhere-Imola like you don’t know how to operate the newest release of your company’s top of the line sportscar campaign.”

So, she knew who I was…of course she knew who I was if I decided to parade around Imola in the bright orange monstrosity of a car, while wearing my infamous bright colored outfits complete with glitter details of an embroidered strawberry on the breast of my Gucci tee. It’s not the first nor last time people recognized me randomly on international streets, but it surely is a novel occurrence for me to feel bashful under her knowing gaze.

I shrugged my shoulders, feeling my ears pinken at the realization she knew who I was under this current unfavorable circumstance. “I wish I could say my mechanical skills in fixing cars came as natural as my humor does. But I am afraid I’m just a useless F1 racer who only operates on adrenaline.”

The woman lifted a brow in amusement, “And you don’t have that right now because your car stopped working?”

“Exactly!” I pointed at her like I can’t believe she understood my words, “The car isn’t moving so I don’t have adrenaline to properly function like a human being. I’m basically a damsel in distress right now just waiting for my pit crew to come rescue me.”

And as if a shining personality isn’t enough to blind me, the girl surprises me when she suggests the unthinkable: “Then let’s fix it! What’s exactly broken so we know what to target?” Then she began to point-out different parts of the car that only true car enthusiasts take time to know about. I guess that answers my earlier question if she was into cars; but that doesn’t really help anything when she lost me at her first suggestion.

She probably noticed I remained standing there looking at her like she was speaking a different language, because she stopped in the middle of her sentence and gave me her own bashful look. “I’m sorry, I probably creeped you out just rambling like that without introducing myself. I’m Sophia, by the way.”

Mesmerized by her character, I met her outstretched palm and returned her fairly firm shake. “I’m Harry, nice to meet you, Sophia.” 

“You too,” she nodded, “it’s great to meet you too, I mean. I know we don’t really know each other, but I was serious about helping you fix your car.”

And I don’t know what it is in my gut that told me she really meant her word, but the women in my life had always told me to trust my intuition. And right now, my intuition is telling me to accept Sophia’s unbridled kindness. “And I was also being truthful that I don’t know my way around these high-tech cars unlike I do with vintage ones. So, I can’t really answer your list of questions earlier. But feel free to check the car out yourself.”

I watched as Sophia just stood there mimicking my static stance from earlier, my words seeming not to register in her mind like I thought it would. “Are you serious?” She asked, her blue orbs widening when I nodded my head with conviction.

“This baby is all yours.” I motioned with my hands for her to enter the car, my grin of fondness making its reappearance when Sophia let out a squeal of uncontained excitement as she entered the vehicle. I followed right after her when she called for my name. Based solely on my intuition and her earlier encyclopedia worthy car knowledge, I was fully content to give her full reins to analyze the problem. But when she turned to look at me from her position at the driver’s seat, still asking for my help, I nodded without a second thought.

In my defense, she said the word ‘please’, a pout I’ve come to alarmingly realize I couldn’t resist painted on her lips. Those two on Sophia are a lethal combo. I just knew straight ahead that if she used that more frequently around me, I was done for and she can basically get anything she wanted from me.

Though, something tells me Sophia isn’t that type of person to take advantage of others. Not in the way she patiently asked me questions about the car; questions that were genuinely similar to those my mechanics have asked me during race debriefs. And call me a narcissist all you want, but this occupation of mine with all its glitz and glamorous perks, also comes with undeniable faults that a regular person with a nine-to-five job won’t probably bear to understand.

Not once did Sophia deter our conversation with anything else than strictly being the possible ailments of my car. If it was anyone else in her position with less than good intentions that she clearly exhibits, I’d for sure be feeling extremely uncomfortable right now. It’s very rare for strangers to not have any ulterior motives when it comes to interacting with me, and my usually guarded heart feels a sense of relief that Sophia seems to be one of the very few that I can learn to trust. But hey, I am a Formula 1 driver who rides spaceship-like vehicles that operate on 300 kmph on the regular, who says I’m still right on the head with my perception of reality?

I’m learning to trust humanity more though. My mum and Gem had made it pretty clear that my happiness on the outside and guarded on the inside persona, will just make me lonely in the long-run. I needed a companion in life like the both of them had found in their partners. And to be honest, I’m done feeling like a lone wolf too, that’s why at the start of this year’s season I had made a personal vow to actually commit in allowing myself to trust the dark and bleak society I have come to be wary of. It would allow me to find the genuine ones no matter how miniscule they may come nowadays.

I’m officially calling this interaction with Sophia as me trying; trying to connect with new people while using a pair of fresh eyes that hold no judgment. There’s nothing wrong with befriending beautiful strangers in a random street somewhere in Imola; especially if they’re here acting as my knight in shining yellow handbag. 

“I suggest we don’t touch anything.” Sophia let out after her whole list-down of questions she asked me about the possible problems of my car.

“What?” I was stunned at her change of perspective, my brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean let’s not touch anything? It seems to me seconds ago that you know your way with cars much more than me, or any of the current drivers on the grid.”

My statement made her giggle, the crinkles of her eyes catching my gaze like the sound of her laugh isn’t adorable enough to attract all of my attention. “I’d take that as a compliment since you seem like an honest person. But regardless of how much of a car encyclopedia I am, that still doesn’t qualify me from actually breaking apart this bloody expensive car.”

“Then why’d you ask me all those things then?”

“Maybe because I wanted to see for myself if you’re really a racer who knows no shit about cars, or you were just waiting to impress me with all your overflowing knowledge about it like a stereotypical testosterone-ego filled motorsport driver.”

I snorted unattractively, enthralled by her honest words despite its teasing tone. “I hope I didn’t disappoint then, that I’m not your typical racing driver. That I’m really just a big fraud of my kind who’s basically a big disgrace in our industry since I know close to nothing about the thing that makes my job work in the first place.”

I don’t know what kind of reaction I was waiting for, but it certainly wasn’t her loud laughter echoing around the quiet Italian street, nor the way her hand had comfortably, almost mindlessly, pushed me lightly on my shoulders like it’s for her own good that I should stop making these jokes about myself. I liked it though, her reaction. Far too much.

“Well, I’m hoping this isn’t your attempt at running away from the Imola grand prix this weekend, considering I don’t think you’re that bad of a driver regardless if you don’t know how to properly fix one.” Sophia proceeded to give me a carefree smile, as if she hadn’t just complimented me for the first time.

And how I felt like preening at noting such a random thing, I have no idea. It seems to be the overall theme for my afternoon. “Sadly, no. My boss wouldn’t have lent me this car if he had heard any inklings that I was going rogue for an Italian holiday, no matter how lovely that sounds now.”

I saw the interest flash in her eyes after that, “So if you’re not on the run from your racing obligations, then what’s so pressing you had to drive a car you barely know anything about?”

I didn’t see any harm in sharing my plans, especially when my current situation makes it seem more like canceled plans now that I’ll only be able to accomplish the next time I visit Emilia Romania. I tried to keep my disappointment at the minimum when I told her.

“Nothing that special, actually. You see, today’s my only free day from any race or media stuff so I just wanted to head to this specific beach and watch the sunset. Just to have some time for me, to be one with the peace and quiet of the ocean.”

I am unsure what she sees in my expression after I had said that, but one look at Sophia made me believe I did a piss poor job at concealing displeasure. A frown is etched on her forehead, corners of her lips turned downwards, her eyes wide with sympathy dancing in her irises.

That look on her face stunned me on my seat once again. I decided that I wanted to remove that saddened look on her face, her face that should always be full of life and brightness like the sunshine that she is. But more importantly, what had gotten me dazed like an utter fool being hit unknowingly by cupid’s arrow, is this sudden realization that had completely turned my perspective of this entire situation in another fucking direction.

How do you tell I woman you met barely an hour ago, a woman as charming, kind, honest, and simply a compelling woman like Sophia, that I don’t give a single fuck about the sunset and the beach anymore when I’m content just staring at her pools of ocean blue? That her aura is enough and more to compete with a stunning Italian sunset?

But before I could even act more like a fool in front of her by trying to articulate those gobsmacking thoughts of pure sappiness and vulnerability all in one, Sophia beats me to it by asking me her own question.

“What’s your thoughts on just calling someone to fix your car? And while they’re doing that task, you and I head together to that beach you were keen to go to, watch the sunset, and even eat some gelato while doing all that. You game?”

🌻🌻🌻

What the actual bloody fuck was I doing?

Did I seriously just instruct a Formula 1 driver on what to do with his car while simultaneously making plans with him like we’re suddenly best friends who go on regular beach trips and watch sunsets together? More importantly, did I just unknowingly, idiotically, ask him to get some gelato with me? Because with my barely functioning social skills, that’s basically as tangible as a first date as I can get.

What the actual fuck. This is Harry Styles we’re talking about. Regardless if I’m a Red Bull girl at heart, this man I just talked my mouth off to is popularly called, McLaren's Golden Boy: the one who will win the historic team another Constructors Championship title and the World Driver’s Championship, after more than a decade of being stuck in the midfield. I appreciate talent when I see one, and Jesus did I ever see pure and raw talent in this man’s season last year. Seriously, if the new car regulations didn’t take place this year, I bet my entire handbag collection that he’ll already be competing for those titles alongside Red Bull and Ferrari like it’s as easy as breathing air.

Speaking of air, I think I just lost my own supply when my question was left unanswered, hanging in the air that I couldn’t seem to breathe, unwanted and so out of place. To top it all off, Harry graced me with his ‘thinking face’ that I’ve seen in various media, sporting a very appealing pout on his lips. Aside from my appreciation of racing abilities, I am also very grateful for the F1 driver’s physical assets. I have eyes, alright? There’s no denying that Harry’s curls, plump pink lips, doe-wide green orbs - and don’t even get me started on the dimples on his cheeks - more than just appeals to my ovaries.

In a nutshell: his fucking hot and adorable in one whole kind and crazy package.

But there’s no time to think of that. I shook my head mentally to get rid of those unhelpful thoughts and tried to find my words on how to salvage this situation and overall, my pride. I don’t want to be that pitiful girl who tells her nonna that time she was turned down by a famous racing driver because she accidentally made plans with him. She’s just not going to be that girl, and surprisingly, it seems like Harry also shares the same thoughts.

“If I agreed to this, would you allow me to choose your gelato flavor for you?” Harry’s reply was certainly not the kind of answer I thought I would receive. I was so intent that he would kindly reject me, that when his words were no way near that direction, I couldn’t contain the laughter of unadulterated glee and surprise to leave my lips.

“I’ve certainly never trusted anyone to choose my gelato flavor for me. But considering how you trusted me in fixing your car, I don’t see what’s wrong in reciprocating your confidence in my character.”

If I wasn’t already fazed by his presence alone, Harry continues to further astound me on my seat when the craters on his cheeks willingly presented themselves in my view. “Then let’s go get those gelatos!” he even clapped his hand like an excited, overgrown child. “Can you actually believe that I’ve been in Italy for more than 24 hours already and I still haven’t gotten a scoop of gelato?”

I gasped in faux bewilderment, “That is simply unfathomable, Harry! We should definitely take quick measures to fix that and put some gelato in you, like a proper Italian experience.”

And the next thing I knew we were both heading out of his car, walking side by side with my bike in our middle, heading to the gelato parlor I knew was somewhere near the beach he had planned to go to. Majority of the time we had walked, Harry was on the phone making a call to his team, following my request of allowing them to fix whatever the problem was instead of my inexperienced hands. By the time his call ended, we already reached our destination.

“After you.” The gentleman that Harry is notoriously known to be, had the door opened for me with his hand motioning that I enter first before him. I returned his dimpled smile while saying my thanks, allowing him to stand beside me afterwards as we viewed the different gelato flavors on the glass freezer in front of us.

I turned to him with an encouraging smile. “I think this is the time where you pick my ice cream flavor for me, which will once and for all tell me who you really are as a person.”

A glint of challenge began to flicker on his emerald gems. “Is that so? Are you suggesting that if I pick a certain flavor, it would dictate if you still want to be my friend or not?”

Harry’s question had almost gotten me to do a double-take, to ask him to repeat his words slower. Because surely, this charming, trusting and kind influential man didn’t just imply that he wanted to be my friend. But that lightness depicted on his grinning face didn’t scream deceit nor contained any ounce of joking. He looked sincere. I can go even farther and say there’s an air of hope laced underneath his infectious smile.

I found confidence in whatever it was I saw before me, so I returned his smile, allowing him to see that whatever gelato flavor he chose, I’d still want to see where this interaction goes. Because fuck what gelato flavor he choses when we all know I’d be more than pleased in just being in silence with this wonderfully odd man, than finding the time to fuss over what I’m eating. And that’s a first if you know anything about how I indulge with my food.

“As long as you don’t pick pistachio or any flavor with nuts in them, then we’re good. There’s no person who can be my friend if they let me eat nuts since I’m allergic to them.”

Something like wonder washed over his face, dimples disarming me completely out of the barely remaining remnants of my functioning bearings. “You’re in luck then. My older sister is also allergic to all kinds of nuts. That means you just befriended the best nut protector in all of Europe.”

Harry stood there inside the gelato shop with his hands on his hips, chin raised in full confidence like his words, all the while I just found him stinkin’ adorable at how he’s not afraid to be silly in front of me. Not most guys, especially racing drivers, would be confident in their own skin and personality like him.

If my awestruck smile can be any indication, I think I felt like the luckiest girl in the world for experiencing this Italian summer anomaly. And since he’s been nothing but honest and courteous around me, I decided to tell him just as much when we’ve got our gelato cones in our hands, walking quite quickly to catch the sunset at the beach.

The majority of our short walk consisted of Harry asking me why I was in Italy, considering we were both British sounding individuals in foreign soil. I told him I was currently in my summer break before entering my last year of university, that being half-Italian from my mum’s side I had always enjoyed staying in Imola every summer in my nonna’s residence. By the time we found the perfect spot at the beach where we have the best view in the house to see the sunset, Harry and I comfortably sat beside each other on the soft sand with our elbows nearly touching.

“Alright, I’m assuming it’s not an everyday occurrence for you to invite racers to have gelato and watch the sunset at the beach.” Harry’s pink tongue poked out to lick his gelato cone, eyes situated at my face while mine got stuck at his mouth, like it’s the first time I saw anyone eating gelato in Italy.

I snapped my gaze back to his awaiting ones, I shrugged my shoulders lightly. “It’s not really my thing to do every summer.” I confirmed, a mischievous smile formed right after. “Especially not towards McLaren drivers, by the way.”

My apparent dig at his racing team caused Harry to almost splutter-out on the sand the bite of gelato he was enjoying. His contagious laughter became the perfect background music to the orange hues of the setting sun.

“You’re not a McLaren fan, I got it. Message received well and bloody clear.” 

I returned to my own gelato cone, ate it away as I watched Harry tilt his head at me, a look of curiosity mirrored on his smiling face. “You’re a Tifosi then?” he asked, referring to what you call die-hard Italian Ferrari fans.

Now that was my turn to laugh, surprising the man beside me if his widened green eyes could be any indication. I shuddered at his words to display what it did to me. “God, if my family heard you say that, they’ll for sure have hurled you already at the ocean.”

I watched amusedly as Harry did a double-take at my response, he seemed to be growing intrigued at this specific topic. “You’re not a Tifosi fan, and your entire family isn’t. Please tell me how that is your answer when all of you have Italian blood.”

Harry has a very valid point considering how the entirety of Italy values and reverses their beloved Ferrari team. But I guess it’s not just our meeting that is an anomaly in Imola. “As much as I spent almost half my time every year here, on Italian soil, my entire family and I just never got the Ferrari appeal.”

“The color red not doing it for you?”

“More like their team orders and strategies.” I lifted my hand in peace for my next words, “I know you love Mitch with all your heart cause he was your first teammate ever in your rookie season and all that but, he’s bound to get all the bad luck any Ferrari driver gets once they’re signed to the historic team. He should go find a better team where he can really display his hard-earned skills and not get stuck in all their unhinged racing strategies.”

Judging Harry’s reaction, he was more charmed at my honest take then offended on the behalf of his best friend. “Your honesty amazes me, I like it very much.” If a blush coated my cheeks at his admission, then I hoped the orange rays of the sunset covered it even just a bit. He then nodded his head like he agreed with me. “And I also can’t say I don’t share a part, if not all, of your sentiments. I mean come on! They did steal Mitch away from me so Ferrari is definitely one of the last teams I’m taking offers with when my contract is up with McLaren.”

I giggled, dusting off my hands from the crumbs left by my now finished cone of gelato. I gave the ridiculous man beside me a look that silently asked if he was being serious. “Harry, I don’t know how to say this to you, that won’t come as a shock, but you’re McLaren’s Golden Boy. Meaning whether you win them a championship before or in 2025 when your contract ends, they’re not letting you go out of their sights. You’re this sport’s next generation of champions. And seeing that McLaren gave you a poor excuse for a car this year, they have to do better by you in the following years so you can actually showcase your natural flair for racing.”

I wasn’t prepared for the intense aura that Harry exuded towards me after my rant. I just complimented the man like any regular, sane human, and he gazed at me with his captivating green irises as if I was the golden girl of the historically successful, multi-billion, Formula 1 team. It’s unnerving yet empowering how much I realized my words affected him. Yet at the same time, how his silent reaction also affected mine.

Harry then smirked at me, arching a brow that spoke promises of chaos. “Careful. You keep painting me with bright words like that and I’d truly be convinced you’re a McLaren fan.”

A noise of disbelief emerged from me. Harry laughed at my scoffing reaction as I regaled him with my own version of a curved brow meant to threaten those who try to speak foully of me. “As if. I’d rather chug an entire barrel of Red Bull in a heartbeat than start wearing your team’s eye-burning orange outfits.”

If we were talking while standing up, I would bet all my university credentials that Harry would have stumbled on his feet and fell flat on the sand butt-first after he had heard my cleverly hidden admission. Kudos to him that we were comfortably sitting down when I broke to him the unfortunate news that I am in fact, a Red Bull fan as great as they may come.

With his jaw hanging open, Harry’s large open eyes almost look cartoonish at how they might pop-off his face from the clear shock he experienced. “You’re a Red Bull girl?! No fucking way!”

I don’t know if it’s because of the cheery and beaming colors of clothes that I wear, my Italian heritage, or the fact that I’m often described looking like that girl on the beach who always looks relaxed, calm, and positive. Because most people found it such a polarizing idea that I’m a Red Bull fan. It’s not the first time I had elicited a similar reaction like that of Harry’s, some have honestly even given me quite an interrogation as they tried to find out why someone like me, with this serene and smiling personality, would be so engrossed in a team where aggression, extreme competition, and favoring alarmingly dangerous tactics, are what they’re widely known for. They don’t understand why that became my jam.

I just beam at people brighter every time that happens, always believing that my opposite personality has nothing to do with what team I root for. I adore Formula 1 racing to begin with, for crying out loud! That doesn’t sound like a relax and chill support in any angle of that word you try to examine.

I offered the same carefree nonchalance towards my new friend, who would for sure understand more than a regular person what I mean, when he holds a big role in the sport as well. “Yes fucking way. I've been a Red Bull fan since the very beginning. For me, they’re the epitome of the high risk, high gain mentality that motorsport embodies. I even got my family to get on board with the same team, which is saying a lot since some of them are quite partial to your other good friend, Jeff, in Mercedes.”

Harry whistled, impressed at my apparent life goals that colored his tone. “You are talking about quite big matters, cause if you’re an F1 enthusiast, it’s either you love or hate Red Bull. I guess you just did the impossible by certifying your entire family for being gaga over the bull.”

His specific choice of words brought a laugh straight out of my lips. “I can’t really say we’re that crazy over F1 and Red Bull in general. But I guess we might have the tendency to act like absolute frantic fangirls whenever Niall gets on the podium which is pretty much every other weekend, considering Louis and him are killing it these past few seasons.”

If I thought Harry’s reaction couldn’t get any better, color me impressed myself when he abruptly turned to sit facing me, with his legs crossed touching the side of my foot. “This is turning to be a fucking crazy afternoon!” he placed a hand on his chest as if I had personally hurt him. “Not only did I learn that you betrayed our fellow English compatriots by declaring your allegiance to an Austrian team, but I also lost to a bloody Irish leprechaun? You wound me, Sunflower.”

I thought I just stopped breathing right after that single word left his now pouting lips. Sunflower. He called me by something that isn’t my name. He gave me an endearment. A very unique one that you just don’t call people you’ve met for only an hour. 

I didn’t know if he was conscious enough that he had called me such, but the way his faux pout transformed into a soft smile after witnessing the proper look of enchantment written all over my face, I would assume that he knew what he was doing.

Now that made me pout. “That’s unfair!” I whined like an embarrassed fool after her crush found out they had the hots for them since forever. Said crush only laughed at my misery, gentle hands reaching to remove my own palms that I have used to shield my face from his annoyingly charming mug. “You can’t say things like that and expect my ovaries would still be in-tact!”

Harry only howled louder at my dramatics, unfortunately remaining successful in unveiling my burning cheeks for all his glory to see. “I didn’t even say anything!” he countered, smiling so innocently that can probably fool anyone but me. “I just called you after a flower. I think that’s hardly enough evidence to hold me responsible for the apparent state of your ovaries…Sunflower.”

I simply just groaned at the absolute menace that he was, copying his seating position with our folded knees touching. Conceding to a meaningless battle that I knew I wouldn’t win with just a single glance at his impossibly precious grin. I allowed the pinkness of my face to shine on its own, feeding my curiosity like I had anything more to lose that can further embarrass me.

“Why Sunflower, then? If you’re trying to compare me with a flower, find something that resembles the color of my face because apparently, you of all people unleashed my hidden talent: blush as red as a tomato when near Harry Styles.”

“I’d still think you’d look stunning even as a tomato.” Like clockwork, my cheeks turned darker at his honesty laden words. “But I still prefer Sunflower because it’s got nothing to do with your looks. Spending time with you even for just a little while, I can’t deny that your aura reminded me of pure sunshine. You’re so bright in all regards of that word, and I don’t even think you know it yourself.”

Even if the tone of his voice is as light as the wind, I still felt the heavy weight of his contemplative stare, his expressive green irises mapped my face like he was simply confirming what he was describing. As if he was trying to make sure that all the words he used to describe me were able to exemplify how he really saw me, and I felt seen, in a good way.

“And I believe Sunflower fit you perfectly rather than simply calling you sunshine.” Harry reached over to curl a piece of stray blonde hair behind my ear. “If you’re called sunshine that means everyone gets to experience your brilliance. But if you’re Sunflower, only the few smart and lucky ones will be able to have you. And Sunflower, there’s no way in this world that I want to share this afternoon with you with anyone else. I get to keep it as mine, just our time together and no one else's.”

Was my heart even still in my body? Or did its rabid pumping propel it outside my chest and towards Harry’s calloused hands where they want to be right now?

“I think you just took my heart.” was my brilliant reply to all his mind-numbing words. Of course dummy old me would be stupefied when an F1 driver suddenly bares his deep thoughts about me to me when there’s already no denying I quite fancy the curly muppet. And I just confessed my thoughts in a complete 360 downturn from his own much creative one.

But because Harry Styles is apparently a rarity of his kind, he only laughed joyously at my appalling lackluster words. “I’d be happy to have that too, not just our time this afternoon, Sunflower. That is of course, if you still want to see little weird ‘ol me after today.”

Did he just ask me out? Like actually asked for my consent unlike how I dictated this afternoon for him earlier? I have to keep this man if he continues acting like that.

“Oh, fuck it.” I rolled my eyes for my own sake, my last words solidifying itself at the forefront of my mind. “I’ll just get it out of the way and say that of course, I’d still want to see your weird mug after this afternoon. There’s no bloody way your charming butt could get away that easily from me, considering it’s all your fault that you didn’t know how to fix your car and imprisoned my kind heart in your hands now.”

“Yeah, of course it’s all my fault.” Harry nodded with the widest smile I’ve ever seen on his face, nodding seriously at my accusations. “And I’d be willing to do anything for you just to make up for it.”

He shouldn’t be making promises he can’t keep is what I thought. But I’d keep that information with me when the time I need things to work in my favor comes. Just from this interaction alone, I can already tell this racer has got a thing for making me flush.

“Good thing you know all about your misdoings. But before you do whatever it is to make it up to me, can we just pretend I didn’t just say yes to you asking me out and let’s first have this very important conversation that my parents have always told me I should have with a boy that’s interested in me.”

Just mentioning my parents instantly caused a change in Harry’s demeanor. Smile gone, brows furrowed, lips pouting in concentration like I’ve noticed he loved to do. Harry looked like he wanted to take out some pen and paper to write down whatever it is my ‘parents’ had to say.

“Let’s have this conversation then.” He said with a tone of conviction, the slight tremble of warriness was something I detected with just his first word alone. “I’d rather not upset your family without even having the chance to taste your nonna’s cooking.”

“The good thing is it's not about being conceited then. Why would you think my nonna would invite you over to her place? Let alone cook for you? Just so you know, she doesn’t give a flying fuck about hot Formula 1 drivers like the entire female population.”

Harry smirked, probably because my cheeks turned as dark as the burning sunset in front of us after inadvertently calling him hot, with me being part of that demographic of females. “I don’t need to be successful, and as you said without my coercion, hot, racing driver to get your nonna to love me. I have dimples.”

He didn’t even have to explain the significance of that. This shithead literally knew what he was doing when he decided to just dimple at me to prove his point. My nonna might not be into watching Grand Prixs with me, but considering we share the same blood, chances are she’s also weak at the knees for charming boys that have dimples.

“Okay, I get it.” I huffed, failing to hide my flushed smile at Harry’s giggles. “Now stop distracting me with your magical dimples from the real agenda we have to have a serious conversation over.”

“Alright, I’ll keep my lady-magnet weapons back.” He fucking better or else I’ll not be able to be the only lady he attracts in this Italian beach, we can’t have that.

“Now prepare to listen because I won’t repeat this again: we better discuss, in full-length, your honest, non-scripted, thoughts on Formula 1 and its teams and drivers. I can’t be dating a McLaren driver who plans to convert me to their too bloody bright orange side. I’m a Red Bull girl whether I’m with McLaren’s Golden Boy or not.”

As I’ve come to expect, Harry just looked at me for a few moments like I’ve just grown two heads. But what makes him someone that might fit perfectly with my sometimes unhinged self, is that he bounces right back to banter with me;  like a perfect reflex to step on the pedal when all the lights are out at the beginning of every race.

His infectious smile graced my presence once more, Harry’s hands reaching for mine. I stared at the effortless way his large palms engulfed my much smaller ones, rough calloused hands finally meeting the delicate touch of my hands for the first time. With our hands locked together, Harry rested it comfortably on his lap, his eyes too captivating to veer my own stare from.

“I’ve got the whole afternoon and evening left to discuss this matter,” he told me, fingers squeezing my own. “And can I just say I really do appreciate your parents for instilling such appropriate measures to test possible suitors. God, imagine if you didn’t inform me about this and I would have already brainwashed you to join McLaren by gifting you that bloody, broken orange monstrosity of a car.”

I copied his faux horrified expression, “The horror of that thought.” We stared at each other, lips moving upwards at the same time, our shared laughter ringing the quiet of the beach. All the while the darkness of the fading sunset was not enough to conceal my view of Harry’s familiar bashful smile that he had given me at the gelato shop.

“I’m down for everything you’ve said, just not the last bit.” Slowly, I watched with bated breath as he lifted our interlocked hands near his lips. “It’s not a question of whether you are or aren’t, you’re going to be with the McLaren Golden Boy.” He kissed my knuckles so tenderly I almost thought I became part of some summer romance story.

I should have found that statement irritatingly conceited and a total red flag for egotistical jerks who would like to dictate who I am or not. But I didn’t. I found the statement irritatingly toe-tingling because I'd somehow lost the plot a long time ago when I first became immersed with the sport through finding the drivers on the grid to be smoking hot. Granted that I have reached greater lengths than that through finding absolute enjoyment in learning about everything concerning F1 that is deeper than the physicality of their drivers, there’s no fucking way the 12-year old in me isn’t living her dream of finding her own racing driver to call her own.

It’s not like the man who’s softly rubbing circles on the back of my hand is like mine mine, but he could be if his confident words and my dangerous attraction to attractive adrenaline junkies could perfectly meet in the middle. 

Afterall, we did have the remaining of the day to make that happen.

🌻🌻🌻

I was sitting on the colorful couch located in my nonna’s living room. Her rarely used flat screen television displayed the start of free practice when my phone chimed with a new text. I reached for it from my lap, a smile already threatening to break my face once I saw who it was from.

From: STYLES, McLaren enemy 🧡

“Are you sure it’s totally okay for you to watch the free practice at your nonna’s? Don’t want the sweet poor thing to have sore eardrums from all the noises of the cars.”

To: STYLES, McLaren enemy 🧡

“I really appreciate your concern, but she’s currently in her afternoon nap as we speak and she’s a heavy sleeper so we’re all good. Now stop being a sweet little thing and get in your car! The race is about to start, stop being a muppet and focus!”

From: STYLES, McLaren enemy 🧡

“You’re one to talk! It’s kind of your fault that I’m still not yet in my car cause you’re not here with me in my garage where I want you to be. Now everyone should just settle for my MIA cause I’d fucking gladly just spend my entire day texting you.”

That should be concerning, no? Harry just basically admitted preferring to spend time with me than do what he does for a living that will earn him money so he can actually go live his life. But I guess what’s more worrying is that I actually didn’t give a damn either. 

I’m smiling here like a fool on this wide couch, phone in hand, body curled like a tight ball from the damn stampede of wild animals in my tummy because an F1 driver chose me over his beloved car. If that isn’t the making of a true love story, I don’t know what is.

To: STYLES, McLaren enemy 🧡

“Well aren’t you a poor Bunny, huh? But as much as I’d like to keep texting you (like, honestly what’s wrong with me?), I realllly don’t want you to stall the free practice I’m about to devour. Better get your bum-bum on that car! And btw, even if I was free today to go to the paddock, who said I’d be at your MCLAREN garage? Bunny, I think you’ve just forgotten the golden rule of ours.”

From: STYLES, McLaren enemy 🧡

“Not forgotten, Sunflower. No brainwashing of joining the orange side, as said perfectly by the best mama and papa Red Bull fans. And this time, I’d actually listen to you without complaints. My trainer’s looking at me like he’s planning to ban me from eating any more cheese this trip.”

To: STYLES, McLaren enemy 🧡

“Oh. no. We simply cannot have that happening!”

From: STYLES, McLaren enemy 🧡

“Sunflower, you really get me. I seriously can’t have that cause you know, I have to be polite and finish all the food Nonna Red Bull fan will give me. But, I’m off to the car now, happy? I better hear you calling me Bunny after this session! Byyyeee hugsss!”

I didn’t bother replying after that. I locked my phone and dropped it back on my lap as I watched the man I was just texting on the screen. The camera followed him skip and hop on the pitlane, heading to his garage like a real-life adorable bunny. I giggled silently, the exact same image is what actually gave me the idea to call him that in the first place.

Despite the sun completely setting already yesterday, Harry and I spent the entire afternoon and early evening talking to each other as the sky turned from orange to inky black with stars blanketing our view of the Italian beach. We conversed about everything and nothing all at once; from personal life and our families, to racing and things we like and don’t. Having a genuine conversation with just about a full hour of being with him, I felt like I’ve known him for years.

We were on the topic of our thoughts on this current F1 season when the bunny hopping was brought-up. I can’t exactly remember the details because I was so immersed feeling Harry’s warmth around me, having found ourselves in a very cozy position: his knees bent with legs wide open, myself slotted perfectly in the open space, my back against his firm chest, his strong arms wrapped around me so tenderly. How that happened, I also don’t know. 

But what I still can recall is how I felt his button nose begin to nuzzle the side of my neck during a comfortable lull in our conversation. And for some reason, with my eyes closed basking in his simple affection, I got the image of a cute bunny with tiny whiskers nosing my skin the same way. That mental image then led to me visualizing all the times I have seen Harry on the screen of my television during races, hopping and skipping like a bunny all around the pitlane and paddock every time he was headed somewhere - might it be the media pen or towards his fans to spend some time with them.

So, I laughed, disrupting the concentration of the man who was trying to scent me in some way. He looked at me with a cute frown, asking what had made me laugh, I gladly told him my thoughts with giggles barely being concealed.

Harry fruitlessly began to deny it which made me only giggle harder. “You’re such a bunny!” I tapped his scrunched-up nose because he looked so sweet and I just couldn’t not touch him. “You don’t even have to feel embarrassed because I like it, it’s adorable, Bunny.”

To be honest, I was just teasing him by calling him bunny. But then I saw and felt Harry Styles actually preen like a pleased feline after I said it. And let’s just say after that, his shameless affection seeking self - a very big side of him that I got to get acquainted to really good and really swiftly - had been directly asking me to call him Bunny every chance he got. Lucky him I was a self-proclaimed weak woman around his presence.

So much so that right now, as I watched the Imola Grand Prix’s free practice session begin, I just betrayed my Red Bull family by being more attentive and demanding of a certain orange car with the number four on it, to drift by my screen more frequently. I was at the edge of the couch every time his helmet camera was the one being displayed. My arms flying out in glee every time he managed to overtake another car in front of him - thank fuck it wasn’t a Red Bull car though or else I would have felt even more guiltier - and my arms would instantly fold across my chest with a sad pout present on my lips every time his shitty shoe box of a car just couldn’t keep up with the insanely fast pace of his competitors.

I knew I had it bad when both free practice sessions ended with Harry’s positions going from P10 to P15, which if it was race day itself, he would have barely made the scoreboard and the latter won’t even allow him any points. It was bad because I wasn’t the one who had a pretty shitty race and yet it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like I wanted to take that look of utter dismay off his face and just put it all on me instead. I didn’t even feel this this type of way when Niall Horan had to DNF during the Austrian Grand Prix, which also happened to be Red Bull’s home race. That wasn’t a fun time for fangirl me.  But this, this isn’t a happy time for my entire being.

Coming to terms that my last straw of self-preservation is not seeing Harry hop to the post-race interview like he would normally be doing now, I retrieved my phone and made a hasty, yet wholehearted decision.

To: STYLES, McLaren enemy 🧡

“I don’t know about you, but that session made me really hungry. What do you say about dinner at my nonna’s place? Promise she isn’t mad and actually didn’t wake-up the entire time you were making a raucous on her TV screen. Text me your thoughts when you're finished with whatever post-practice stuff you have to do, Bunny. Hugggss!”

🐇🐇🐇

I thought my Italian luck had turned around for the better after I had met Sophia, like the damsel in distress I was when my McLaren broke down on some random road yesterday afternoon. I swear her presence alone in my mind was enough to put a spring to my steps that everyone in my garage has noticed after I arrived early in the paddock for our pre-practice meeting with all the race engineers.

Rob Sheffield, our Team Principal who basically runs the whole racing show in McLaren (don’t tell James I said that cause he thinks he’s still the main man behind everything), even had a go at my apparently ‘oddly more cheery attitude, that’s borderline disturbing’ when he announced at everyone present at our motorhome’s conference room about my downright embarrassing incident yesterday.

“Styles, if you just told me you couldn’t handle our newest release, I would have personally allowed you to bring your own pit crew around Italy if that meant I wouldn’t even have the chance of having a missing driver for this weekend.”

Everyone laughed at Rob’s clear teasing, myself included even if most of them probably thought I’d be more sheepish at my faults like every time I almost trip from plain air with how clumsy I am. But I wasn’t. I laughed along with my entire team while not saying anything, just like the moving image of Sophia branded on my mind where she cackled like no tomorrow around my arms at the beach. That was after I told her stories of the god-awful dancing-zumba-warm ups that occur inside the McLaren hospitality outside of the public’s view.

I may have laughed extra harder when Rob looked at my red cheeks from exerting too much pure joy with a weirded-out expression. All I could remember while looking at his face is when Sophia and I had proceeded to lose our breaths, hands grappling at each other on the sand to find support, when I shared to her the detail of Rob’s constipated looking face when one of our engineers tried teaching him how to twerk during the aforementioned dancing warm-ups. The man didn’t know any better of what he was eagerly subjecting himself into.

Though I wish I had the same bright disposition for the entirety of my work day. Too bad when you drive rockets for a living, everything is unpredictable. Speaking of, I can attest with statistical data from my team that this year’s MCL36 is a poorly executed car so at the start of my year and until today, I already expected to have a less than stellar few races unlike last year’s performance. 

But fucking come on! For the last race in Australia, the team really made enormous progress with Nick and I being in the top ten, scoring some much needed points. Without stroking my own ego too much, I was the best of the rest being the only car behind the top teams of Red Bull, Ferrari, and the similarly downright unfortunate team this year of Mercedes. 

And then I went to this practice session this morning with vivid happiness and determination beaming out of me, only to have DRS issues allowing everyone else to overtake me in the straights. Don’t even get me started on the random lock-ups my car went through in every chicane and hairpin I passed through. By the time I boxed after completing the session, all my optimism was lost and I was near to throwing a rage fit. Mind you, to my uncooperative orange monstrosity of a car and not my team, I’m not a massive prick, narcissistic racer or not.

I was about to do it, removing my helmet and balaclava ready to give a stern talking to my car, but I was intercepted by my trainer, Harry Lambert, smiling far too gaily for being around a seething F1 driver. Before I can snap at him like some daft asshole, Lambert swishes my phone from left to right in my line of vision.

“I know you always tell me to keep your phone for you every race session, so this isn’t a new thing in our routine.” He said, clearly stalling to whatever he really wanted to tell me. “But, I have noticed today that your screen-time conscious personality has been glued to your phone when you’re not doing anything. And I’m not here to reprimand you about it, the complete opposite actually.”

Lambert’s growing smirk made me speak-up in a dry tone. “I don’t really care if you snooped my phone, Lamby. No need for you to apologize.”

“I wasn’t going to, anyway.” He sassed at me, handing me both my water bottle and phone. “I think you’re the one who’s about to apologize to me after I tell you my amazing self, cleared all your scheduled meetings this afternoon after a little birdy left you a message.”

I’ve never opened my phone the same way I would press the throttle when the lights turn out every race weekend. I’ve also never replied with an affirmative ‘yes!’ to any text message before like I would exclaim every time my race engineer tells me on the comms after a smashing race that I’ve hit a podium win.

Too bad my Italian luck seemed to be growing until that point only. Now that I’m knocking on the sage green wooden door of Sophia’s nonna’s home, the door opens and I’m met with two beautiful women. One was smiling at me like I just bought her an entire gelato shop, while the other was scowling in my direction as if I'd devoured all the trays of her favorite gelato flavor. Looks like my luck wasn’t going up any higher than before.

“Bunny, you made it!” Sophia attached herself to my front like a magnet, arms curled around my neck as my own rested on her waist. I hugged her tight to me, her giggles ringing in my ear as her feet lifted just a few inches above the ground from how flushed her body is connected to mine.

“Does this mean you missed me, Sunflower?” I couldn't help but mutter in her ear, my own giggles escaped my lips when she shyly admitted to missing me with a simple nod as her nose found its way to gently nuzzle my earlobe.

And then we both hear a throat being cleared loudly, Sophia and I stiffening from our cuddle with eyes growing wide from the stern sound. She’s back on her feet in an instant, my body grew cold without her warm energy clinging to me as she returned beside her nonna, who, speaking of, apparently remained scowling at me. If it was even possible, I’m sure her face turned even sour after I hugged her granddaughter in front of her.

“Soph, bellissima,” Nonna Red Bull fan turned to her now blushing granddaughter, “I understand how affectionate you could be with people you trust, but per favore, introduce me to your friend first. I don’t just let strangers enter my home for dinner; let alone allow them to cuddle my granddaughter.”

“Nonna, fermati, por favore.” Sophia whined at her grandmother’s words to stop, eyes avoiding my amused irises that was quickly replaced by a tinge of fear when I instead caught that of her nonna’s threatening blue eyes.

Nonna Red Bull fan huffed, impatience wrapped around that simple noise. “If no one is going to speak, I’ll do it myself.” She extended her hand to me in greeting. “I’m Angie, welcome to my home here in Imola. And you are?”

I accepted her ringed hand, trying my best to ensure that my hand was not trembling. “I’m Harry Styles, nice to meet you, signorina Angie.” And because I was raised by my mother to greet everyone in full kindness and respect, my instinct was to place a kiss on the back of Angie’s hand like I would usually do when I meet my mate’s Italian nonnas.

I almost pulled back to apologize when I remembered her seconds-ago hostile aura aimed at me. But the fear in me from doing something I shouldn’t, quickly diffused when I heard the unmistakable breath hitching of both Angie and Sophia.

“Oh,” Angie slowly retrieved her hand back from my hold, the surprise in her eyes returning to hard edges like she couldn’t be fooled by any of my respectful actions. “Harry Styles. I’ve heard about you.”

I chuckled, right hand coming to scratch the back of my neck in a clear nervous tick. “Only good things, I hope.”

“Not really.” Was her quick and no-nonsense reply, features unimpressed at my surprised reaction.

“Nonna!” Sophia’s widened eyes looked at her grandmother like she was being impolite. “You can’t say that in front of our guest!”

Angie just huffed once more. “It’s partially your fault, mia bella, when all I know about your new friend is everything I see in social media. If you would have kept me in the light about all this, then maybe I’d have a different answer. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

I gulped, unsure of what to say without hurting the feelings of anyone. If I agreed to Angie, then Sophia would think I’m blaming her for not telling her nonna about me since our personal interaction yesterday. But if I side with Sophia, then there are high chances that Angie might put some food poisoning on my food later on if her ‘don’t mess with me, young man’ face she’s giving me right now could be any indication.

In the end, I settled for being truthful. “Honestly, I’m more impressed by your sincerity more than anything, Angie.” I couldn’t help but grin with the craters of my cheek denting. “I bet my own grandmother isn’t also impressed with how I come across in the media. But I can assure you that whatever it is you saw, it’s only half, if not a false, part of my entire story.”

I don’t know what it is with what I just said, but Angie had turned off her hostile energy like a snap of a finger. Nonna the Red Bull fan now looked at me like I just offered her to personally make another batch of her favorite gelato flavor after I had just devoured it earlier. Before my mind could refocus from this whiplash like reaction, Angie had an arm around my back as she ushered me to their outdoor balcony where my dinner was apparently waiting.

“I want to hear all about your entire story then, Harry.” Angie’s hand went up to tap my cheek in affection. “But I have to get all the food from the kitchen before you can have your dinner.”

“Oh, let me help you with th-”

"Nonsense, tu prezioso regazzo.” Angie shook her head adamantly. Did she just call me precious in Italian? “You are our guest and I don’t allow any of my guests to lift a single finger to help.” She then turned to Sophia, who I’ve realized remained very quiet this entire interaction. “But you, bellissima, are not a guest. I don’t trust you with my delicacies but I hope you can safely guide Harry to the dinner table outside without any mishaps. Now go ahead, bring him safely there.”

Just like with anyone who has the right mind in not wanting to face the lethal wrath of an Italian nonna, Sophia followed her grandmother’s request in a heartbeat. Curling her arm around my bicep, she slowly led my still-stunned body outside their patio doors and towards the immaculately early dinner set-up in the middle of Angie’s spacious back garden.

“Sunflower, I wasn’t imagining it, right?” I frowned as I pulled Sophia’s chair beside mine before I took my own seat. “One second your nonna wanted to give me bodily harm on her doorstep. Then the next, she tended to me like I was some prince of the entire F1 grid. Was I just imagining all that?”

I was quite sure I was turning crazy from all the ups and downs of my luck in this Imola race weekend. But I guess it wasn’t enough to compete with the absolute crazed way Sophia rolled her eyes when I looked at her from beside me.

“She’s crazy!” Sophia exclaimed with frenzied hand movements. “It’s all because of your damn dimples! Dio, lo sapevo! I already called it yesterday when we were talking, that my own nonna will be my competition once you showed her your secret weapons. Bunny, what have you done?”

If I thought I was already lost for words from Angie’s swift change of heart, I guess her little Italian descendant had her beat in that regard. I didn’t know which part of Sophia’s very informative statement I could tackle first, though one spoke directly to my narcissistic tendency, unfortunately for her.

I smirked at a clearly wired Sophia, “Did you just call my dimples my secret weapon?”

I saw the way Sophia stiffened slightly on her seat, as if getting caught, before she rolled her eyes in uncanny irritation. “Of course that’s what you would focus on, you egotistical racer.”

There was no real heat in her words. Both of us know each other pretty well at this point, that I’m mature and grounded enough to not be a stereotype, cocky, has-it-all driver. Besides, my cheeks were also dimpling from her joyous reactions yesterday when I told her stories of how my mum and Gemma kept me in-check. Let’s just say it involved a whole lot of toilet cleaning every time I was back home, and a lot less of cruising around the streets of England in my flashy, orange whip. If that doesn’t keep me humble and grounded, I don’t know what will.

Thus, despite her annoyed exterior, I’m still putting an extra effort in grinning at Sophia. “Jesus, if I knew all I had to do to get you to like me was to use my secret weapon - na-uh, don’t give me those eyes cause I’m just quoting you - then I would have just smiled at you the entire time without exerting any other effort.”

Sophia huffed when I made sure to prove my point by tilting my head to the side to give her the best seat in the house to view my dimples. “As if! That would have been absolutely creepy if all you did was smile at me yesterday. I wouldn’t have liked you very much if you did nothing but that.”

“Really? Are you sure about that, Sunflower?”

“Absolutely, you don’t have to ask twice. Any person with a right mind would have responded the same as me.”

I chuckled, inching my dimpled face towards her faux scowling one. “I don’t disagree about that. But you see, haven’t we established since yesterday that we’re kind of not like the normal people who have the right mind?” I wiggled my brows in suggestion, easily cataloging the radiant joy my silly face gave her beautiful one.

Sophia tilts her head to the side, the action being too adorable for my eyes than it should have been for such a simple gesture. “You do consent in getting yourself strapped-down to a death-vehicle most weekends for a living, and you don’t necessarily have adequate skills to fix cars even if your whole life mostly revolves around them.”

I adore the way her blue irises light up my green ones from just her words alone. “And it’s very unlikely for Italian women to stop by a random street and help useless, probably dubious, F1 drivers without asking or expecting anything in return.”

Our words lingered in the quiet of the warm afternoon, our smiles a mirror image, faces just about three inches apart. And then something clicked. Something akin to equal perception released in our energies.

“You’re right,” Sophia nodded, any sense of shyness stripping-off her entire being. “I would have still liked you just as much - if not more - if you just dimpled at me the entire day yesterday.” And then she shook her head, as if she couldn’t understand the gravity of her own admission, her crazed smile from earlier returning. “Oh my god, I’m crazy, aren’t I? Nobody should find the idea of your dimpling face, just that, unmoving, as something highly endearing and borderline heart-melting. What is wrong with me?”

I felt the deep chuckles vibrating from my chest before I felt Sophia’s equally robust giggles on my skin when I closed the gap between our faces. With my forehead touching hers, I diligently nosed down the bridge of her own, creating a path of unadulterated fondness for this glowing person in my orbit.

“It’s not just you, Sunflower.” I reminded her with full conviction, “We’re both not quite right in the head; we’re both kinda crazy, baby.”

“Well, I hope you two are not crazy enough to not appreciate the feast I’ve prepared.”

Unlike earlier, Angie’s presence wasn’t unwelcome and it didn’t make Sophia and I jump away from our close contact. Our eyes locked once more instead, elation pouring ten folds in just one look. We suddenly laughed because it felt like the only thing that made the most sense in all these rapidly growing emotions bubbling inside me. The same maddening sensations that’s also screaming at me in certainty that Sophia feels this sweet-havoc within her too.

Despite Angie’s urgent protests, I couldn’t stop myself from helping her with placing the deliciously smelling plates and bowls of food on the table. But best to my ardent efforts afterterwards, Angie had me sitting back on my seat as she began to pile food on my plate, her stern blue eyes now showing ‘even if I like you now, don’t mess with me, young man’ was enough to shut me up.

I didn’t complain though, especially when I watched in great amusement at how Sophia tried to intercept her nonna from serving me. I’m afraid to admit that her earlier remark of Angie being a competition to my heart, might be quite true to some extent. Sophia noticed just as much on my smirking face directed at her futile attempt to sprinkle some chili flakes on my fresh slice of pizza - right after Angie had just done it.

“La mia belleza,” Angie swatted Sophia’s hand holding the jar of chili flakes, “can you please sit back on your seat? And Harry doesn’t need any more of that, I already placed some on his food. You aren’t trying to burn the tongue of our guest, no?”

The laughter I tried my strongest to keep at bay almost spilled right out of me. I don’t know what it is, but watching a pissy Sophia, who followed her nonna’s orders like a child who was just scolded from stealing a treat in the cookie jar, did it for me.

It was the perfect moment to tease her. “Yeah, la mia belleza.” I looked at her narrowed gaze with a brow curved upward. “Angie has already got me covered, which by the way,” my focus shifted to her grandmother. “You picked the slice I wanted and gave me the perfect amount of chili flakes as well. I don’t know how you do it Angie. You seem to know me so well already.”

I made sure to wink at nonna Red Bull fan just like I would do every time the cameras zoom-in to my face before I close the visor of my helmet. The reaction is equally just the same, and I’m starting to truly believe that my dimples have something to do with the way her cheeks pinken. That shade of rose reminded me of the person sitting beside me. I returned my focus on Sophia who actually looked like I had betrayed her in some way.

I assured her smoothly with my next actions, instead of fruitless words she’ll just dispute. I stood up from my seat and reached for the tray of pizza and placed a slice on Sophia’s plate, before I proceeded to sprinkle a considerably more amount of chili flakes on her serving compared to mine with an added drizzle of hot sauce.

“There you go,” I finished by filling her glass with lemon juice. “Dinner just the way you like it, Sunflower.”

“You remembered,” Sophia’s whispered words of unmistakable awe made my eyes crinkle with a smile. “Bunny, you remembered.” she repeated with a tone of disbelief quoting her words.

“That you like really spicy food? I did.” I answered my own question when Sophia remained looking at me with a dumbfounded expression that I once again, found fucking adorable. “I remember every little thing you share with me, Sunflower. I don’t take your words for granted.” my hand gravitated to rest on the bare meat of her thigh giving it a gentle squeeze. “Now I don’t know if you forgot, but I remember telling you that if you’re not quick enough, I have no mercy in eating your food for you.”

That seemed to do the trick, Sophia sprang back to functionality with that bright grin stealing my wits away. “Not me, Bunny. You don’t wanna mess with me and my food.” She made a show of taking a big and messy bite from her pizza slice, my laughter shared with Angie as she shook her head amusedly at her crazy granddaughter.

Sophia’s fucking crazy all right, but she’s so bright like sunshine and so bloody unapologetic for who she is that it truly squeezes my soul that she doesn’t care how she looks in front of me unlike any other girls I come across. Sophia’s a rare one and my belief is only reinforced as the three of us conversed over an early dinner with Angie trading Sophia’s childhood stories for my own. 

The entire time of us chatting animatedly, Sophia’s hand somehow found its way to entwine with my own that’s resting securely on her thigh. She might be oblivious to it being in the middle of telling her nonna some tidbits of my life that I shared with her yesterday, but I certainly felt the heat of Angie’s knowing gaze that was directed at our determined singular hands feeding ourselves. I might have felt my cheeks burn just a bit, unsure if I was crossing some line while being in her home. But like earlier, Angie’s expressive eyes sent the message loud and clear to me. In her eyes I read, ‘keep holding my granddaughter’s hand, don’t mess with me, young man’ Like there’s anything else I’d gladly fucking do than just that.

So my hands were tightly confined in Sophia’s delicate hold when Angie brought-up the topic of my current race weekend in Imola. The conversation surfaced after I’ve cleared my name in her presence by sharing the simple realities of my life that the media doesn’t know about.

“I honestly was unsure on what to feel when mia bella here told me that we’re having a guest over this afternoon,” Angie admitted to me, frank as I’ve learned her to be. “It’s not even about that she’s basically inviting someone over to my home, because she knows that la mia casa è anche la sua casa. I was just worried because she said you were a Formula 1 driver, and I’m pretty sure, Harry, that you know how Soph gets with her racers.”

“My racers?!” Sophia gasped loudly, features appalled. “Nonna, I do not say that!”

Angie snorted before I could have the chance to do the same. “Oh, please! You know what I mean, tu pazza ragazza.” hearing Angie call her granddaughter crazy so plainly, is the undoing of my unattractive snort. I felt the hard squeeze on my hand, a clear warning separate from the daggers I feel being thrown on the side of my grinning face.

Angie noticed the exchange, amusement written all over her face. “Harry, don’t worry. Soph’s glares are the bare minimum of her crazy side; you’re safe right now.” I didn’t care that I full-on laughed after that poor attempt at reassurance, my hand separating from Sophia’s as I used it to cover my loud guffawing.

“Nonna, this isn’t funny!” Sophia whined at her cackling grandmother who ignored her to continue this topic with me.

“Harry, understand my concern here.” I nodded adamantly like I really was hell-bent in understanding her dilemma despite the giggles that continued to spew outwards from me. “Mia bella here is crazy about the sport itself; she knows her shit about cars to put it simply. That’s why I understand how passionate she gets whenever we have watch parties of the race weekend here, but Gesù Cristo onnipotente! When the drivers are the ones in question, my crazy girl is in a whole other dimension! Especially about this certain driver that I feared would be him that she was talking about that would come to dinner today.”

I already knew who Angie was referring to. One look at Sophia’s flushed cheeks told me that it’s not a surprise to anyone she’s close with, whether it's someone like Angie who doesn’t particularly enjoys watching Grand Prixs or those around her that do, they all know how much of a wild fangirl my Sunflower can get. Especially for a certain blonde-head that could be found in the Red Bull garage.

“What was his name again?” Angie asked me, faux confusion coating her features. “I can’t seem to remember it, Harry. Maybe you can help me here, darling.”

I sensed where this was heading, and I was all for it. I might be known to hop like a bunny around the paddock, but best believe I pull some of the best pranks in both the garages and pitlanes outside of the media’s eyes. Though I couldn’t say others shared that similar mischievous trait, especially for the lady beside me who let out a groan of dire agony. 

“It would be my pleasure, Angie. Does this man happen to have blonde hair that totally looks like he spends more than two hours getting it that way like a total vain lad?”

Angie clapped like I was on the right track, “Yes, I think that’s him! The one who’s also always laughing for no reason. I was honestly concerned why my Soph was laughing along with a crazy-looking man.”

“He’s not crazy, you two are the ones crazy!” Sophia’s indignant proclamation is carried away by the wind. Angie and I smiled deviously, still trying to act confused.

“I think we’re talking about the same person, Angie. Did his name start with the letter ‘N’, do you reckon?”

“Oh, yeah. Was it..Neil?” It was difficult to not blow our cover at this early in the game considering that I remembered Niall’s face every time someone misspells his name in a live broadcast. Sadly, it happens more often than not; it didn’t even spare his podium finishes.

“I don’t know anyone named Neil, though.” My thumb and index finger pinched my bottom lip in thought, like the immaculate actor I was born to be. “I do know someone that might be named Nail, though.”

It wasn’t lost on me that everyone dining on the table knew what I was referring to by saying that single word, not in the way we all shared vibrating laughter including the seething lady we were teasing to begin with. Everyone from their mother to their grandmothers remember the iconic moment: Niall Horan getting his maiden win in the historical track of Monaco, only to be called on the podium as ‘Nail Horan’ and the reckless little shit didn’t waste time popping the champagne directly on the announcer’s face and cursing him off like the person just killed his parents right in front of him. That was a fine moment immortalized forever in the internet, definitely causing my friend a hefty fine as well by the FIA stewards.

“Oh, that was brilliant, Harry!” Angie clapped. “That moment was a perfect depiction of how crazy Nail Horan is.”

“It’s Niall Horan, you freaking donuts!” 

We were quiet after Sophia’s outburst at the quiet of the Imola afternoon. All of us probably took a few seconds to register what she said, more specially, what she called Angie and I. When it clicked moments later, it was Angie’s wheezing laughter and Sophia’s burning face that accompanied the uncontrollable, gleeful shakes of my body. There was nothing in me to stop this alarming amount of fondness seeping into my bones that’s more thrilling than the adrenaline I feel every time I’m whisked away on the racetrack.

In their own unstoppable accord, my arms wrapped itself on Sophia’s hunched body, pulling her flush to my chest where she found the perfect hiding spot on the crook of my neck. “Of course you unleash your inner Gordon Ramsay at me the first time I insulted your Irish racer.” My lips succumbed to my indulgent thoughts as I pressed a kiss on her pink skin.

I feel her own warm lips on the skin of my neck, parting to reply without any sense of denial. “Be thankful I didn’t drop you any F-bombs like Chef Ramsay would have done if he was in my situation.”

I nodded my head vigorously, her hidden face not being able to see the smirk I gave a grinning Angie. “Oh, I’m so thankful, Sunflower. So much so that I’d gladly tell you about this totally inside scoop about Gordon Ramsay himself being a guest at the Red Bull garage in one of the races and he totally called your Irish racer a donut too after he crashed himself just exiting the pitlane. I guess we’re both donuts then.”

That little tidbit wasn’t as hilarious as Sophia huffing an extremely vexed, “Bunny!” her body disconnecting from mine as she shoved at my chest. I quickly reached for her palm again as I clasped it tightly in mine. “You’re talking rubbish just to spite me.”

I met her pierced gaze with my own fierce beam of utter thrill, “I guess we’ll never find out the truth then because you’re stuck with a McLaren, English racer who will be over for every Italian-nonna dinners from now on.” My shoulders shrug as if it didn’t take note of the absolute weight of my statement.

Because we’ve already established many times already that I’m a lunatic racer who faced no fear in the presence of high speed and high adrenaline, I met Sophia’s stunned eyes and parted berry lips of surprise headstrong. There was no questioning in her eyes who sought if I spoke of the truth, not when whatever worries may come to her, were swiftly hindered from growing when my thumb rubbed reassuring circles on the top of our entwined hands. That’s when I knew my Sunflower really did feel these electrifying feelings for me like I did her: when an effortless touch of my finger flooded her eyes with serene happiness at my bold stance.

“Well can I just say that I’m glad it’s you, Harry, who had dinner with us. It’s been such a lovely afternoon.” Both our attention returned at Angie’s words, her own smile brimming with elation at whatever she just witnessed between her granddaughter and I. 

It made me feel floored when her bright features alone spoke of the thundering truth: Angie, the nonna Red Bull fan, does not object that I spend many more dinners at her home. If she hadn’t spoken again, I genuinely think I would have shed a tear at feeling this elated. 

“If I would have just known that the racer with the kindest heart is the one that invited mia bella to the track, I would have personally dropped her off at the paddock and tell her that she’s going to have a much banging time being around you than fussing over her perfectly fine nonna.”

That’s true, I did invite Sophia to join me for the entire Imola race weekend. The scene went like this: the shining stars that blanketed the dark ocean sky were our only source of light, we stood on our feet, Sophia’s warm arms that were now clad by my jacket went around my shoulders, mine were secured across her lower back, eyes mapping each other’s faces like every contour of our skin must be examined in the radiant serenity of the Italian night breeze. It was the classic, ‘we’ve talked for hours and now the sun is down and we have to leave each other. But there’s this invisible string between us that’s pulling us closer together, making us want to stay for just a little bit longer. So, one of us better think on their fucking feet on what else we can talk about, instead of smiling like fools who just lost their minds believing they’ve found their soulmates who’s gloriously standing in front of them now.’

And I was the one who decided to be that person. But I guess grinning like a fool also led to me asking something quite foolish and frankly, highly egotistical for someone who’s already comfortable in my narcissistic skin. 

Where did I find the balls to ask the most rare sunshine of a person that I’ve barely known for 24 hours to join me on my Imola race weekend both in the paddock, pitlane, and in my garage? Who the fuck do I think I am? I swore I’ve never felt that nervous under her scrutinizing gaze after I’ve asked the question, not even when I was signing-away my life in James’ office when I reached an opening to the doors premiere league of motorsports.

“I’ll just tell myself I misheard you and you didn’t actually say the word ‘banging’,” Sophia shook her head, face twisted at her nonna’s previous words. “And nonna, we’ve gone through this already. It’s totally fine that I joined you today, Harry was absolutely sweet and understanding about it.”

How else was I supposed to react otherwise? Anyone who would decline a boy’s offer in favor of spending time and taking care of their grandmothers will always be on my book of people to trust and admire. I knew I liked her a lot more than little at that point; despite the saddened pout I gave her that was totally meant for her to embrace me tighter without asking for it and really having lost all my ego.

“Yeah,” I agreed in sincerity. “I would have totally felt gutted and absolutely guilty if I knew she ditched her nonna for a boring old racer like me.”

Sophia looked at Angie with a triumphant smile, like saying, ‘See? You have nothing to worry about.’ But Angie just shook her head at us in clear disagreement.

“I don’t understand you youngsters nowadays. Angie mused, “Back in my day, I’d ditched anyone and everyone just to spend time with my summer love.”

Her pure nonchalance had poor Sophia choking on the sip of her drink right beside me, my hand automatically coming around to soothe her. All the while, my face transformed into a smirk of interest at this new turn in our conversation.

“First you use the word ‘banging’ and now you want to talk about ‘summer love’? Nonna, I think you need more nap time.”

I chuckled at the dry look Angie directed to her granddaughter, “And I thought the young ones can’t get any more boring! Yet here you are, mia bella, concerned about my nap time. Haven’t you learnt enough from the countless times I’ve told you about mine and your nonno’s summer love?”

The way Sophia vehemently shook her head in dread at her nonna’s question got my interest piqued more than ever. Especially when she caught my gaze, her face filled with more horror when Angie called my name with apparent excitement underneath her tone.

“Why don’t I tell Harry about nonno and I’s story? Maybe he can actually learn something and be the one to teach every unromantic bone in your body.”

Sophia gasped, “Excuse me? I am a very romantic person! It’s not my fault your and nonno’s story have just lost the spark of love for me when I’ve heard from the ages of zero to today.”

My eyes sprang to the same sounding gasp coming from Angie this time. “Oh, stop with your foolish words, mia bella. It’s not doing any good for dear Harry here who’s absolutely at the edge of his seat waiting to hear my timeless love story.”

If the exchange wasn’t happening so quickly, I would probably have been concerned at Sophia who turned her neck towards me in record time, hands coming up to grip my bicep. “Harry, tell her no.” But then more words continued to flow.

“Earlier you wanted to burn his tongue with too many chili flakes, and now you want to put words in his mouth?”

“I did not do any of that! Nonna, this is you saying things like wanting to tell your love story because you just miss nonno; you’re projecting like a teenager missing her boyfriend.”

“I am not a silly teenager, too obsessed with her man! Besides, can you blame me if I was when all I’ve had for the past month is scheduled FaceTime calls with my husba-”

And then both heated Italian ladies stopped like they were just catapulted into the ocean, the mass of water silencing their frenzied words. Except I was left more confused on my seat when both ladies began to speak in rapid Italian that my rusty knowledge of the language did not allow me to understand a thing. What I did catch was their apologetic looks when they realized I was still at the dinner table.

“Gesù Cristo, how impolite of me.” Angie walked to the side of my seat, the feel of her gentle palm felt comfortable on my skin when she cupped my face to look at her. “Ragazzo prezioso, apologies for the way I disregarded you and that I have to cut this dinner short. You see, my aged brain has forgotten that my husband and I do have scheduled FaceTime calls every day at this time of the afternoon since he’s not here and is having a hiking trip with his mates all the way in Peru.”

I was sure my non-toxic masculinity heart actually melted in the pure saccharine that coated Angie’s admission, the hopeless romantic in me lighting up. “Now, don’t let me be a villain in your bewitching love story, Angie. That’s the last thing I would want to be as your guest.” Angie giggled, the youthful sound I knew only came from those who still feel like a teenager drunk in love.

“Besides, I think Sophia here wouldn’t mind that she be the one to tell me the beginning of your summer romance,” I chanced a glance at Sophia, amusement dancing in my eyes at the look of utter aversion my suggestion washed her in. I don’t let that deter me from smiling like an angel at her nonna. “Doesn't she look the most thrilled at having the honor to be your storyteller? Your real preziosa nipote.”

I expected the snort that Angie let out, one look at her precious granddaughter and you’d detect the sarcasm hidden in my flowery words. But whatever witty retort I thought Angie would mutter, I never thought for once that it would render me stupefied on my seat.

With another loving tap delivered on my cheek, Angie smiled at me with her soft eyes brimming with affirmation. “I’d rather spare mia bella with that hardship, I’m not that cruel. Anyway, you’d be here for all the other dinners I’d prepare next so I have plenty of time to teach you the ways of love, ragazzo prezioso. No need to hurry in that fast car of yours.” and then she winked at me, saying her last goodbyes for the day amidst my shell-shocked expression.

It was just about after Sophia’s return after following her nonna’s orders of fetching the freshly baked brownies in the kitchen that I had returned from my stupor, “Did your nonna just agreed for me to crash all her dinners without telling me directly that she did?”

At my clear astounded tone, I watched Sophia try to cover her laughter as she sat in front of me in Angie’s previous seat, delicately placing the tray of chocolate goodness between the two of us on the table. “Technically, she acknowledged your RSVP after you’ve somewhat invited yourself over in your earlier declaration.” I accepted the spoon Sophia handed me, my eyes not missing a beat at the undeniable flush that escaped her ‘traitorous cheeks’ as she liked to label them. I might actually say the same thing when my own cheeks dented in their own accord as I smiled at such a simple observation.

I couldn’t help it. I felt so light upon hearing that admission from Angie. “Your nonna likes me. Your nonna Red Bull fan actually fucking likes me.”

My dopey tone is what probably initiated the roll of eyes Sophia gave me, “She’s not the biggest F1 fan in general, so I can’t fault her for easily trusting the enemy in her home.” She shrugged like my triumphant energy was misplaced. “Besides, we’ve already established that you got her weak at the knees since you showed her your dimples at the entryway.”

That made me snort like a pig, her bitter tone only fueling my teasing antics. “She likes me more than my dimples. Sunflower, let’s not project your own flaws onto your lovely nonna. Not everyone would only like me just for my dashing dimples.”

Sophia’s jaw dropped, my taunt hitting right where I aimed it. “Did you honestly just imply that I only liked you for your looks?”

I shrugged, neither denying or confirming her question. “I mean, that’s all you’ve complimented about me tonight. how was I supposed to believe otherwise?”

“Please,” Sophia breathed out like her answer was rather obvious. “I’m not going to shower you with verbal compliments because I’m just not that type of girl, and come on! There’s no chance I’d help in further inflating a McLaren driver’s already narcissistic head.”

I whistled at her bold remark, eyes filled with mischief. “And that’s really not helping your case of only liking my physical attributes.”

I started this exchange knowing how it elicited a fire in Sophia’s demeanor; one that’s glimmering with fervor every time I bantered with her. But the other fact that I knew so wholeheartedly it still leaves me feeling speechless, is how one look from her soulful eyes alone, I knew my Sunflower appreciated me bounds away from what she can just see in my appearance, much more than just my alluring billionaire-bachelor-racer persona.

She’s a rare person who wouldn’t settle for that, wouldn’t settle to be known as something so minimum. I heard it in her next words. “I like you much more than just your physical and superficial attributes that I’d give you the revered position of being the first to have a slice of Angie’s scrumptious brownies.”

See? She’s a one-of-a kind human being who believes anything with chocolate holds a superior power that can answer anything. Unfortunately for me, I actually would think chocolate runs in my veins if I don’t just get regular health check-ups for my profession. ‘I love chocolate’ is a statement that cannot suffice to describe who I really am.

I lifted a brow of intrigue, “A revered position, huh? Sounds like something I’d be into.”

Sophia proceeded to nod her head, the single, confident action alone speaks volumes of the truth that she actually likes more parts of me because she knows me. “Yup. I can personally attest that this position I’m bestowing to you is much more coveted than a pole position in racing.”

“Oh really?” With my elbow resting on the table, I rested my cheek on my own palm as I watched Sophia begin to get some of the gooey brownie on her fork. “You’d know it’s much more coveted because you've experienced a pole position yourself? Bloody hell, Sunflower. Have you actually driven an F1 car before and chose not to tell me?”

A fork full of chocolate heaven made its way on my parted lips. Sophia feeding me herself is a brilliant surprise I truly did not expect, nor were her next words. “I haven’t had the chance to drive one, actually.” She then fed herself some brownies with the same fork, eyes locked on appraising ones. “But that might change if you let me drive yours tomorrow.”

The meaning of her statement came quick enough to be able to restrain me from actually ignoring her company in favor of having a single conversation with the pan of brownies staring at me. Because it was that fucking mouthwateringly good I was willing to ignore a glowing Sunflower. Hence, I was proud of myself for meeting Sophia’s nonchalant gaze while taking a decent forkful of our dessert.

In the most natural yet boldest move I’ve yet made to a girl I utterly fancy, I placed my free hand with my palm raised upwards on the table, a clear invitation for something. My grin is blinding when my Sunflower doesn’t even bat an eye and effortlessly enveloped her fingers with mine.

“So, you’re planning to join my crazy weekend after all?” Sophia shrugged a shoulder, pink lips closing on her fork to eat every crumb of her brownies. 

“You did hear how my nonna basically lectured me for being a boring lady,” She had a fond look in her eyes, as if she’s remembering her and Angie’s colorful exchange earlier when one would think she was truly annoyed about. “I kind of have to prove to her now that I have plenty of romantic bones inside me.”

“Personally, I don’t think you have to prove her, or anyone for that matter, anything.” I regarded her answer with a confident smile. “Remember, you did save me from my woes yesterday like my true, romantic, knight in shining bright handbag.”

Sophia’s giggles produced a sound that grips me just as much as her tangible hold on my hand. “That I did. But I never actually thought it was romantic, more like I tried to be the kind person who helps people in need.”

“Whatever way it was, it sounds romantic to me.” I scooped a forkful of chocolate goodness and fed an intrigued Sophia, probably surprised that I could talk to her and feed her simultaneously in such an easy fashion. “I don’t know about you, but I find kindness hot.”

There must be something in my statement that really got to Sophia, enough for her to smile with her pearly white smudged with chocolate all for my eyes to see. If her touch, smile, giggles, and blush had a grip on my heart, my Sunflower’s utter confidence about herself and lack of care for what she may look or seem in front of me because she’s simply living her truth - has a chokehold on my soul.

“In this way, are you saying the start of our summer romance already happened yesterday?”

I copied her pondering expression, as if we were discerning a very serious matter in our hands. “I think it was. I don’t think there’s any other way I’d be able to tell the truth of how I started to fall for you without mentioning my foolish moments from yesterday.”

I knew I said quite a hefty admission there, acknowledging the blush that crept Sophia’s cheek like clockwork. But I also knew she wouldn’t want to hear my admission any other way, that she’s also ready to acknowledge the depth of what we had found in each other. The way she squeezed our entwined hands to confirm my beliefs will be forever branded in my memory.

“I agree with you.” Sophia replied softly, her smile stretching her strawberry pink cheeks. “Falling for you wouldn’t make sense otherwise.”

A comfortable silence followed our simple yet heartfelt confessions. As someone who’s used to silence after all the fanfare of racing has concluded, I’m now able to fully comprehend that special kind of silence my mum has always urged me about. She told me that I should find the person who makes me feel alive in the loudest and especially the quietest moments of my life. I was doubting the existence of such a phenomena, not when my kind of silence always had loneliness creeping behind it.

But now I understand. Basking in the silence of Sophia’s bright-lit face with the orange and tangerine hues of the sunset behind her, I fully grasped it. I’ve experienced that special kind of silence, not just with any person, but with my Sunflower.

These sentiments are what braved me to speak my sappy mind, “Sunflower, you going to be my lucky charm this weekend?”

And because she’s the rarest person meant for me, she snorted like I was crazy. “Don’t be daft! I’m simply accompanying you to your race weekend because I have to see for myself if you really should keep driving, Bunny.”

“Heyyy!” that man-child whine I can’t seem to grow out of left my pouty lips, “I was just asking a question and you’re being all unreasonably mean to me.”

“Bunny,” Sophia gently pulled our clasped hands closer to her, her other hand leaving the fork she was using to also cover our laced palms. “You can’t blame me for wondering when the first time I saw you, your car was broken on the street. The next time I saw you on my television screen, you were locking up and spinning 180 degrees out of nowhere in every chicane and hairpin you passed.”

“I didn’t in Sector 1.”

My grumbled reply failed when she only laughed at my sour expression. “Well, I bloody hope you didn’t cause can you even call it premier league racing when you already mess up at the start of the race?  You see, not such stellar driving I’ve seen so far.”

My determined, curse-the-naysayer-cause-I’m-going-to-win racing persona stumbled into the surface. “I’ll be in the podium for tomorrow’s qualifying.” My brave promise is met with a mischievous smirk filled with bruning challenges.

“I have to see you in Q3 before I believe your words.”

Alright. Can this girl get any more perfect for me? A woman after my own heart: actions before words. But has anyone told her I heard what she meant loud and clear?

I bet no one did. That’s why I’d just show her instead.

🌻🌻🌻

“Do I have to also give you an orange leash so you don’t go running off to the Red Bull garage?”

“Funny.” If I didn’t find his humor attractive, I would have stopped placing the badges he gave me around my neck and flipped him off with both my hands. “I already have one orange lanyard, I think I’m all maxed out for that horrendous color.”

“Sassy. You think you’ll be able to keep those daggers for eyes much better if I just confiscate the McLaren hospitality badge from you and just leave you with the paddock badge and the one for pitlane?”

Harry’s tone was casual, both of us wearing a designer pair of shades that hides his mischievous gleaming eyes from my view. “As your guest, I’m seriously finding it appalling that you’d think of leaving me to fend for myself in this motorsport lion's den.”

The clear dramatics in my words earned me a blinding grin from Harry, the dents in his cheeks enough to trip me on my feet if we were walking. Thank fuck we weren’t. We were standing a few feet apart, freshly out from his McLaren vintage ride that I can confirm did not stop on any side street when he picked me up from my house this morning.

“Come here.”

Two simple words that only required two steps before I was right in front of him breaking any kind of personal space. This near to him, our height difference might be daunting for some, but not for me. Not in the way the gentle giant of a racer softly pulled my hands to his lips and left tender kisses on my knuckles.

“Hold my hand please.” He stated more than requested, “I don’t want my Sunflower, who belongs in a field of breathtaking flowers, to get lost in the barbarian streets of the paddock.”

His equally dramatic sentiments brought a content smile to my freshly-glossed lips. “If you must, my adorable yet lionhearted, Bunny.”

Whatever unspoken worries that surrounded Harry and I over our ride here, vanished with the fresh morning Italian wind right in that instant. How can I be worried about the countless whispers and flashes of cameras and phones as we walked inside the paddock, when Harry’s assured hold on my hand just made me shine like the sunshine he always tells me that I am?

Granted that I haven’t been in the paddock before and this close to the actual racing-media-drama action, I’ve been to a handful of Grand Prixs myself to see and observe from afar. I recognize how all this media frenzy is a vital part of Formula 1 to gain and give-back to all the supporters of this billion-dollar earning sport. I’ve watched all four seasons of Drive To Survive on Netflix, I’m not one to talk badly of something I’ve taken part in and enjoyed myself. But I also understand upon getting to know McLaren’s Golden Boy that most of the time, the media isn’t all rainbows and unicorn magic. Harry was very keen in informing me of what I was getting myself into being the first woman he’d ever brought with him on a race weekend.

Such knowledge would most probably render any person frightened with the repercussions, but for reasons unknown to me, I wasn’t. I gave him a bare minimum of a verbal reply and decided instead to show it in my actions that I was a brave Sunflower whether on the field or not. With our clasped hands comfortably swinging beside us, I paid no mind to the escalating amounts of cameras blocking our sides as we walked quietly to the McLaren hospitality, my frequent squeezes to his hand delivered the message that I was fine and dandy like the sunshine shining above our way.

“See? I’m still here in one piece.” I told Harry gleefully as he led me inside the dominantly orange motorhome. He stopped at the bottom of a staircase and pushed his sunglasses up on his adorably messy curls.

“My brave Sunflower,” He praised in a nod filled with approval, “You just survived the bare minimum of this race weekend chaos but I don’t think you need any warnings anymore as I lead you to the middle of the storm.”

His telling words left me confused more than anything he’s ever told me. Nonetheless I  trusted him blindly to drag me along with him up the stairs and straight to his driver’s room where I met the literal middle of the storm he was talking about.

“Harry Edward Styles, you fucking bitch, she’s gorgeous!”

I was thrusted in the expressive arms of Harry Lambert, his exuberant and utterly colorful trainer who upon being introduced, took it to be his responsibility to tour me around the motorhome and introduce me to Harry’s entire team. And despite Harry’s dejected pout for being ignored, I succumbed to Lambert’s plans with the biggest smile on my face and warmest hugs on my arms for every new face I met.

“You know, you’re the first girl he’d brought along with him aside from his sister and mum.” Lambert noted while we drank some orange juice on the upstairs eating lounge after we spent a lengthy time talking with a lot of McLaren employees that range from media, PR, strategists, data analysts, to wellness and medical staff.

“As I’ve been told.” My eyes wandered to the other end of the room where the man in question was filming a video for the McLaren Unboxed Imola episode for their YouTube channel. He must have felt my stare, he winked at me all exaggeratedly that made him look like a damn fool.

It made me giggle so he didn’t mind how he looked on camera and giggled along with me.

“And I think you’ll be the only one he’ll ever be bringing.”

My attention returned to Lambert. My brow curved at the gleam in his eyes as if he knew something vital that I have yet to realize. “What?” he laughed at my inquisitive expression. “I’m just speaking based on observations. I’ve never seen Styles this loco over a girl.”

“You haven’t even seen us interact together. I was with you this entire time.”

“Please!” Lambert dismissed my defense with a dramatic hand flip, “He doesn’t have to be physically near you for me to see he’s gaga over you. I can literally feel his eyes trained on you everywhere we go. Honestly, it’s nauseating.”

Before I can even dissect Lamber’s sentiments, I feel it too. Without looking at his direction, I feel the gaze of Harry’s green irises pointed in my direction, specifically, I know his presence is near mine without hearing any footsteps or a breath coming from him. This sudden strong awareness I have for his aura caused me to abruptly turn to face him, and saw that he wasn’t alone this time wearing their god awful black and orange team wear.

Beside Harry is his McLaren teammate, Nicholas Grimshaw, who looks very much the lively and mischievous individual that he is on most live streams of races I have watched. He doesn’t even mind that he’s blatantly smirking my way and Harry’s, like an obnoxious friend ready to unleash the teasing weapons.

Nick actually goes straight for the hit. “Alright, I’ve heard I have a new job today which is to prevent the lady of the McLaren’s Golden Boy from escaping to the Red Bull garage while said tosser is going to be stuck in a meeting.”

“Nick!” Harry looked at his friend with eyes about to fall off from his sockets, his tone of complete mortification enough to make me giggle behind my hand at this new dynamic I’m seeing in person.

“Harold, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Nick placed a consoling arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I was just trying to test if you picked a good person, and considering that she just laughed at you, I’m confirming that you did. So good job, bud!”

I’ve never witnessed Harry roll his eyes in the same fervent passion that I do to him when he annoys me in our regular banyer, but right now I’ve got a front row seat for it. “Honestly, man. You haven’t even introduced yourself.” Harry sighed in exasperation at his friend who just winked at me. “You’re the only person I know who’s been around me this long and not even just a smidge of my politeness and good character has rubbed-off on you. God, I look like such an angel beside you.”

On cue, Nick and I burst-out in doubling-over laughter. Both Harrys gazed at us like we’ve lost the plot somehow.

“You narcissistic pig!” Nick exclaimed, giving a confused Harry a high-five. “I’m proud of you for not sugarcoating your true self in the dating scene.”

“And I’m proud that you have such a creative imagination for liking yourself to an angel. But Bunny, I’m sorry to say that your angelic curls don't translate for you to be some spiritual entity. Your ego is quite large to fit in your helmet let alone the gates of heaven.”

Rambunctious laughter erupted between the ¾ of us, and it’s to no one’s surprise that the only one left in our conversation is Harry, who was now pouting with his arms folded across his chest. “You guys are ganging-up on me, it’s not funny.”

“I like this one, I like her a lot.” Nick pointed at me with a splitting grin, arms opening wide that welcomed me in a hug. “Nick Grimshaw, it’s nice to meet you.” I offered him the same sentiments by introducing my name just as we released from our friendly embrace. Without missing a beat, somehow I traded places with Nick and was now pulled to the side of some other McLaren driver.

“Cheeky.” I pinched Harry’s hand that wrapped itself around my waist. But the man had the audacity to ignore my comment by pulling me closer to his side and placing butterfly kisses on my temple.

“Can’t help it, Sunflower. I missed you.” I’m pretty sure Harry’s whispered words were only audible to my now pinking ears, though whatever it is his friends are seeing is probably not doing much better either as Lambert made sure to mouth the words ‘nauseating’ loud enough for me to hear with just his faux disgusted face.

“I would really love to see more of this play out,” Nick’s smirking face motioned animatedly at whatever he was seeing between Harry and I. “like it’s so rare to see young Harold here finally growing-up and finding a lady. But I believe it’s time for someone to go, and it’s the hour for me to get some tea from the lady while I show her the garage. Which by the way,” Nick regarded me with a puzzled expression, “Sophia, are you sure you want to spend time in the garage? Won’t it just bore you?”

Harry snorted loudly before I could answer the question. “Oh, Grimmy!” he guffawed like Nick was being ridiculous. “I told you to look after her in the garage because I know she would probably do something to my car like the absolute genius that she is with them that would make it faster. And I don’t want to get disqualified for not following the FIA rules by tampering with a car, as much as I would love to feel like we were driving cars rather than carrots.”

I tilted my head to the side to catch Harry’s eyes, “Please. I’d never do that. Who do you think you are to get free improvement services from me? There’s no way I’d be touching a McLaren car before I do a Red Bull.”

I felt myself grinning at Lambert’s shocked gasp about my admission, Harry’s amused face not doing much for me than causing my cheeks to turn brighter for just a tad bit more, nothing too serious. It’s Nick’s slow clap with a smirk of pure mischief that has me smiling more than anything.

“Marvelous.” Nick regarded me with a new light of intrigue. “A car genius and a Red Bull woman all in one package. I think I’d personally talk to James to get you a permanent spot at the mechanics and car development committee just so I’ll have my right hand in squandering Harold.”

Harry’s resulting signature man-child whine of a ‘Heeeyyyy!’ is overshadowed by Nick and I’s harmonious and synchronized evil laugh. I think it’s best to say that Harry was pouting at me the entire time Lambert kept pushing him to his meeting while I happily clung my arm to the one Nick offered to me. But as much as a pull his saddened puppy eyes and adorable pouting lips had in me, it does not compare to the number it did to me when I finally reached his McLaren garage and was introduced to all the mechanics and engineers present. 

Since everything about automobiles and F1 is as easy as breathing to me, I naturally engaged and adapted better than well at the garage. The team’s looks of surprise at my apparent fountain of knowledge was an extra boost to me and their enthusiasm in showing me all the big and grand and bits and bobs about Harry’s orange vehicle, including how each of them perform their individual tasks.

I guess I truly lost my sense of time while I was having the time of my life in a McLaren garage, no less, that I didn’t even notice Harry’s meeting had finished and Nick had left to take his turn until I felt the former’s now familiar arms wrap around me in a back hug. He pulled me to his torso while his head race engineer was telling me about the different strategies that he and Harry had done in previous races, explaining to me which one he liked and didn’t.

“Will, you’re boring my guest out, mate.” Harry complained faux annoyed at his race engineer who just looked at us and chuckled. “Nobody wants to hear your boring strategies. Strategies that don't change the fact that it looks like I’m driving a tractor on the race track.”

“Hey,” I reached behind me to cup his jaw and squeezed his cheeks together. “Don’t be mean, Bunny.” he tried to speak in denial but it resulted in a grumble-mumble that made no sense than making him look like an idiot that got me and Will chuckling.

“You should listen to your girl, Harry. Don’t be mean.” Will offered me a fist bump which I accepted, a gasp of betrayal falling from Harry’s lips when I let his cheeks be.

“Why does everyone in my team seem to side with you now?” Harry maneuvered me around his arms so that we were now facing each other. “Don’t tell me you’re also done hexing my mechanics while I was gone?” 

I didn’t need to verbally reply because it seemed like all pairs of eyes and ears present in the garage were currently pinned our way in utmost interest. 

“Harry, we don’t need hexing from Sophia when clearly you’re the one who hexed her in joining your daft ass here.” one mechanic said, the majority of them nodded along in agreement.

“She’s a car genius, man.” Another noted, “I had to take a double-look if she was wearing our team gear cause I thought she was going to replace my job.” Now that got me laughing amongst the others.

“Me too!” another (or three?) mechanic shared. “I didn’t even know she’s your girl, Styles. Because I could have sworn you’re a bit of an idiot when it comes to cars so it really didn’t add up to me how’d you get the attention of someone amazing like her.”

“That’s your answer.” I turned to Harry with the brightest gleam in my eyes at all of his team’s - in my opinion - glowing remarks. “Who knew that McLaren's Golden Boy is a manipulator?” I raised a finger on his lips that I knew were about to combat my words. “First, he apparently fooled me to join his daft ass on this race weekend.” I pressed another finger on his lips to continue my point. “And second, he fooled his mechanics that he’s just a bit of an idiot when it comes to cars. The audacity.”

I don’t remember the exact moment I learned to look into his eyes and be able to tell what he’s about to do. That’s why I have no idea how I perfectly escaped his big paws holding my hips that were about to attack me with tickles. I was screaming in laughter as I ran out of the garage with Harry. The absolute idiot began to chase after me whilst all of the McLaren staff laughed and recorded the entire thing.

“I swear to God, Bunny!” I screeched at his running figure while I found a second of reprieve behind a stack of wheels. “If you come near me with your nasty paws, I will seriously cut them off your arms and you won’t get to operate another steering wheel in your life!”

His melodious laughter is not the reply I was looking for. “And what are you going to do with them? Feed them to literal red bulls?”

Now he’s just coming for my home team. I would have loved to continue this banter he loves to arise in me but the only thing I could do was to flip him the bird using both my hands like I’ve wanted to do earlier as he began to chase me around the pitlane again. I was honestly losing my breath and was about to concede defeat when the next second I looked back to see how far Harry was from reaching me, it was in perfect time to watch the most monumental scene unfold before me.

A running mad racer named Harry Styles, just successfully ran over my ultimate F1 idol who was on his way out of his own Red Bull garage. Niall Horan, with his pristinely coiffed blonde hair, didn’t even bat an eye when Harry pretty much tackled him on the ground in the hopes of stopping himself from actually running over and injuring his Irish friend.

It must be some normal occurrence in the pitlanes because no one even offered them a hand. And as I approached them, the two didn’t even mind hugging and scuffling each other on the dirty floors like that. I couldn’t help but giggle at their adorable flushed and laughing faces which shifted their attention towards my standing figure before them.

“Bunny, if I knew the real reason why you don’t want me to meet the only driver I’ve ever devoted my life supporting is because you’ve already called dibs on him, you could have just told me and I wouldn’t have taken offense.”

My joke must have caught them off-guard for a second. But Harry’s loud and pained groan that developed into uncontrollable laughter coupled with Niall’s hysterical cackles, made me preen like it was the greatest kind of compliment. As much as I’ve fully converted to a full Harry girly outside (and inside, but don’t tell the narcissistic twat) of racing, my Niall Horan girlie side will never be forgotten.

With laughter still vibrating from their fireproofs-clad chests, I watched in total high spirits as the two idiots helped each other from the floor. It took them a grand amount of five tries before their infectious laughter had stopped dragging them down the floor. My own giggles however, did not seem to want to be contained as I looked at Harry standing in front of me with Niall hiding behind his much taller frame, with the Irish’s arms wrapped around his middle. If they weren’t wearing their fireproofs with the arms of their race suits dangling by their legs, I would honestly coo at the classic prom-like pose they showed me.

“I knew it was about time someone would catch our relationship,” Niall told Harry but his mirthful gaze was trained at me. “I knew the love in our eyes was simply irresistible to miss, my English Tea.”

“Hush now, my Irish Beer.” I watched as Harry’s arms tightened around Niall’s hold on his middle, the two of them staring at my reaction. “I wouldn’t want Mitch to hear about our burning love for each other. You know how that Caffè Americano can be.”

“Don’t you worry about that Caffè Americano,” there was nothing soothing at Niall’s tone that was filled instead with playful deceit. “He won’t hear a single thing about our sizzling, passionate love affair.” The Irish took it up a notch and nuzzled Harry’s earlobe, the latter’s resulting adorable tickled giggles brought flashbacks of last night when I did the same at Harry’s small ears when we shared a tight embrace under the tangerine sunset of my nonna’s backyard.

But unlike me - who nuzzled Harry’s ear a couple more times just to hear his absolutely precious little happy noises like my true Bunny that he is - Niall didn’t see the same appeal. “I’ll get my Yorkshire Tea teammate to distract Caffè Americano so I’ll have you all to myself, my steaming cup of yummy goodness English Tea!”

If he was anyone other than Niall Horan, I would have been long gone in this apparent conversation exclusive only for rich dolts. Unfortunately, the blonde one had me hooked ever since I first saw him perform the Irish Jig on his maiden win in Monza.

“Should I be concerned that Formula 1 drivers apparently use beverages as endearments?” I leveled Niall’s curved brow of intrigue. “Though I do commend you for choosing English Tea for him. I do suppose it sounds ways lovelier than the measly ‘Bunny’ that I call him.”

It honestly surprised me when Niall’s jaw dropped in equal amounts of shock and began jumping up and down while shaking the hell out of a disturbed McLaren driver. “I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Niall screamed in delight. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought Styles is a bunny personified! Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not the insane one, you shitheads!”

And then Niall proceeds to counter his statements by insanely bunny hopping all exaggeratedly towards my direction. “I’m Niall Horan, by the way.” He introduced himself as if I didn’t have the best seat in the house watching Harry and him interact earlier with their stares situated at me the entire time. “I want to know the name of the magnificent woman who had proven to everyone here in the pitlane that I’m not some loco who thought my English Tea looked like a bunny.” And then he winked at me.

Niall Horan in all his Irish glory just winked at me…I think I short circuited cause the next second I regained consciousness, Harry joined the conversation. I’m not sure what I missed but Harry’s broody expression pointed at his friend and the way he made a show of curving his firm arm around my waist, must indicate something pretty unpleasant. His tone didn’t help either in dispelling my theory, “Her name is Sophia, and you’ve just used your one and only compliment penny for her.”

Despite being the one introduced, none of the two racers’ attention were directed at me. I’m literally in the middle of a stand-off that I don’t understand the beginnings of. Honestly, F1 drivers are bloody weird. One minute they were laughing together acting as lovers with me as the third wheel, and now I’m the spread to a testosterone filled sandwich.

“Who would have thought,” Niall displayed the mightiest smirk at Harry, “that the first and only time I see my young boy Styles find a person, she would be a Red Bull girl.”

Why wasn’t I surprised that the news about me being a Red Bull apologist had flown so quickly around the paddock? What’s more amusing is that the man curled beside me seemed to continue to act on my behalf as he genuinely looked shocked at Niall’s words. “How in the bloody world did you know about that? Who’s the traitor I have to give a very stern telling to?”

I couldn’t help but snort unattractively at Harry’s serious expression, especially when Niall only rolled his eyes at Harry’s obliviousness. “You really should learn to use the group chat, gramps.” If I failed to cover my mouth when another snort came out, only Harry’s narrowed eyes and Niall’s own snort would bear witness to it.

“It was Grimmy, wasn’t it?” I could even answer that question for Harry using bold and capital letters spelling Y-E-S. But before I could enlighten my confused Bunny, Niall’s loud tone made it absolutely impossible to utter anything before him.

“Styles, we have all the time in the world to talk about your teammate and the efficiency of all the old-man dance grooves you taught him, because clearly,” Niall whistled, blatantly checking me out in my white sundress, “your gramps pulling moves are fucking working well! Look at the beauty you’ve hooked.”

Niall’s kind smile towards me showcased that he was doing everything good naturedly and wasn’t being a nasty creep. But Harry, bless him, only tightened his hold around me like a protective alpha male. “Hey! Eyes on me, Horan.” He barked with no real bite because he’s a true bunny like Niall and I proved. “And I already told you, you’re out of compliment pennies for Soph.”

“How can I not compliment Sophia when you literally picked the best girl in all of Italy, and not just because of her looks,” His exaggerated wink towards my direction and Harry’s resulting groan made me giggle without abandon. “But also, and mainly fucking cause, you chose to date a Niall Horan girlie.” He smiles proudly at the two of us. “I don’t think anything tops that for me, mate. Fuck! It feels like I’ve won my iconic Monaco Grand Prix all over again!”

And because he’s apparently bursting at the seams, gleeful for Harry and I’s meeting, Niall wordlessly pulled all three of us in a hug while slobbering our cheeks with affectionate kisses. If I thought Niall Horan was chaotic on my television screen, then certainly nothing prepared me for the real deal in person. 

I didn’t even short circuit this time because I’ve officially confirmed that the man is too crazy for me, like we can’t work as lovers because there’s no way I can keep up with his lively energy. I’m sorry my teenage self, but it looks like we’re sticking to the dimpled, angel curls, adorable bunny hopping Golden Boy driver, and let’s just look past the eye-burning orange team gear.

“Okay, okay, Ni, stop!” I felt for Harry’s pleas that were drowned by all our laughter and Niall’s persistent golden retriever slobbers. “Stop putting your saliva on me and my girl, man. This isn’t cool for my image that I let you shower me with this much affection!”

Harry’s words lacked the threat he was trying to imply, but it somehow made Niall’s movements stop like the unpredictable man that he was. With one last deep kiss on our cheeks and a hearty squeeze of our shoulders, Niall finally left us to have some personal space to breathe in.

“He’s a needy one.” Niall cocked a brow at me in warning, “Don’t know if you’re ready to have a bunny running after you everywhere you go for 24/7, Soph.”

Since when did Niall Horan care for my well-being? And since when did I find myself having the natural ease to fuel his teasing towards Harry? What is my life?

“Thanks for the warning,” I nodded at Niall’s cheeky smile, looking all coy and nonchalant. “But I think I have a bigger problem than just a bunny following me around all day long. Did you know that your friend here is more like a wolf when needing attention? I swear his humongous size and meaty paws almost smothered me with too much affection when he hauled me for a cuddle. I thought he was beyond needy, to be honest with you.”

Right there in that moment, I could actually bet my entire yellow handbag collection that Harry Styles’ fellow driver friends absolutely adore to tease every little bit about him. When Niall all but catapulted his springy self towards my direction once more, pulling my arms to jump up and down with him like two teenage-girls squealing about their crushes, I completely become at peace in my new found reality that Niall Horan is meant to fill that best friend role in my life.

“Oh my god yes!” Niall punched the air as he finally put a halt to our jump, heavy arm sliding its way on my shoulders in a friendly embrace. “Grimmy wasn’t fucking around. You are the shit for our boy Styles here.” He was definitely complimenting me in some way, but I couldn’t exactly register anything too coherent when I’m trying to catch my breath from all that activity. Jesus, how could anyone keep up with this guy?

“I know she’s the shit for me,” That’s the only time my attention shifted back to Harry who I thought would be pouting at our antics. But instead, he was regarding Niall and I with a fond expression, like he was really fascinated with what he was seeing. Or maybe he was just able to read my eyes that I’ve officially crossed-off any chances of being Mrs. Horan and he’s just trying not to gloat at that new truth. I won’t put that theory past him, since the amount of times we’re able to understand each other with just one look is honestly getting a little concerning.

“Don’t ruin my parade, Styles.” Niall brushed-off, patting my shoulder. “Just be happy that I found a new friend and a new member to the grid’s Harry Styles Fan Club.”

“Naturally I’m very happy for you,” Harry’s tone was coated with thick sarcasm; it was impossible not to smile at it. “I wouldn’t dare doubt the evil things you and Nick are able to plot in that specific fan club, and I’m seriously going to be concerned for my remaining bits of dignity now that you have my Sunflower to join the mix. Now can you please return her to me?”

“Nope.” Niall shook his head casually, “She’s coming with me to the fan event. I like her far too much to let you monopolize all her time.”

“Of course you have to fucking like her too much!” Harry raised his hands in deafening exclamation, nothing in his tone nor beaming face displayed any ounce of exasperation as his words would suggest. He looks pretty damn happy to be honest, and I can’t help to start feeling the same when his green gems turned softer.

“Because of course the one and only time I find the person I was meant for, everyone steals her from me because they bloody like her too. It’s so easy.” He laughed like he couldn’t believe how lucky he is for having that. “Everything about this is so effortless because she’s really my person.”

I didn’t even care about anything after that. His admission made me outwardly swoon like an absolute lovestruck heroine in a heart-palpitating romance read. I’m pink like a fluff of cotton candy all over my white sundress. Though nothing beats the fair Irish beside me, whose hands are gripped on my arm for life support. Niall’s red as a tomato, moony eyes sparkled in mine in pure awe.

“I think my boy just got hit by an F1 car and all the g-forces propelled him to fall straight and hard for you.”

I don’t even have to verbally agree with Niall's perfect explanation. With eyes peering beneath my heavy lashes, my cobalt blue meets Golden Boy’s emerald gems. Just that one look, Harry knows. He can see it in my actions, gathered directly at the center of my irises.

I also got hit by an F1 car, all g-forces hurled me straight right to him pretty fucking hard. And you know what’s the best part of all this crashing tragedy? 

We both did it with open arms.

🐇🐇🐇

In all honesty, I knew since the very start when I invited Sophia for the Imola race weekend that she wouldn’t abandon me regardless if she’s a Red Bull fan or that she can’t stand the color of my team. She’s just a truly kind and faithful sweet girl, all wrapped in a stunning little white sundress.

I also knew that every single one of my team and friends would absolutely adore her, especially when they got hit by the blaring fact that she doesn’t care about my career status and all the fame and here-say social etiquette that should follow that. Sophia acts around me without any pretenses or favoritism, just the way I’d accept it.

I guess the only thing I didn’t expect is the degree of liking my friends would garner towards her. I wasn’t sure if they’d interact with her with a little more caution and intrigue because she’s the first ever girl I’ve brought to the paddock aside from my family members. But looking back at the exchanges in my motorhome with Grimmy and Lambert, at my garage with all my engineers and mechanics, the whole bizarre interaction with Niall, and don’t even get me started on the fan event.

The fan event outside the paddock is apparently where Niall was heading to before my clumsy ass tumbled to him. And since I’d already taken his time and I just couldn’t begin to imagine not seeing anymore the spring in Sophia’s steps while talking to Niall, I let the two of them get to know each other as we all walked to the fan event where I was to join with all the drivers as well. Now I don’t know how it exactly began, but while waiting for the actual fan event to start, the backstage waiting room had turned to my Sunflower’s fan event.

Every single one of my peers at the current grid was flocked around the couch where we were sitting. The entire time that I secured her hand on my lap, Niall was sitting on her other side asking her about the different types of tea he should drink because somewhere along the thirty minutes they knew each other, Sophia has somehow convinced Niall to start drinking tea that can cool down his rabid personality. And then because we're talking about his favorite drink on the planet, Louis Tomlinson, the other Red Bull driver, materializes in front of Sophia. They hit it straight-off like I could even be surprised anymore. They started conversing about local Italian boutiques because he plans to shop for his plethora of little sisters. 

Speaking of sisters, my other close Mercedes driver friend, Jeff Azoff, joins in the exchange together with Liam Payne, my other friend from the same team because they happen to have sisters of their own. Again, I don’t know what took place, but from talking about Italian boutiques, it led to her opinions on the dating scene in Italy which brought the attention of Grimmy on the circle with us because he’s a self-proclaimed serial dater. 

In a blink of an eye, everyone was caught in the brightly burning orbit that my Sunflower possessed. It didn’t help that her automobiles and anything related to F1 knowledge was better than superb, because it finally pulled the attention of the reserved and observant, Mitch Rowland. Right when that finally happened, I knew I was completely obliterated.

All my closest friends in the world revere my soulmate. I think my mum and sister would 140% kill me for not introducing my person to them first. I’m not worried about their take on Sophia because I know they’d love her just as much as my friends. I’m more worried about being ignored by the ladies of my life when the inevitable time of the three of them to meet takes place. And with the combined mouths of Nick and Niall that never shut up, I won’t be surprised if I get a call tonight from Gem and Mum demanding me to fly Sophia to London straightaway for dinner.

“I can’t believe you’ve got Mitch’s approval in the first interaction you shared with him.” I shook my head in unmoving disbelief at Sophia who’s watching me do my last-minute prep in the garage before I step into the car for Qualifying.

“What can I say?” she shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal. “My charm does attract the mysterious ones.”

She deserved the snort I let out. “Don’t let that quiet man fool you. He’s not mysterious, Sunflower. Mitch is just very protective of me because he was my first teammate ever in Formula 1. Which is pretty much the foundation of our unbreakable friendship.”

“And what about that then? Did he think I’d try to be the one to break that strong friendship because you’re suddenly enamored by me?”

I don’t comment on her last statement because I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But I did regard her with a contemplative expression. “Actually, you happen to be the first person I’d brought with me on any of my races aside from my family. So, who’s to say what he thought? Let's test your theory when I bring another person to the next race.”

I got the reaction I wanted. Sophia’s body straightened, hands closing into tight fists as it rested on her sides, chin held high ready for battle, and the pièce de résistance: her cool sapphire pools turned ablaze like the blue sky being completely washed by our favorite burning sunset.

“Oh? There are plans to bring another person next week?”

It should be quite concerning how I started to feel the beginnings of the adrenaline high that I crave every time I start to rile her up. “It isn't particularly set in stone yet. Like, I think it depends if you also happen to charm me with some luck this weekend if I invite another person or not.”

Sophia scoffed, hands coming to her hips as I casually began to put my gloves on. “I already told you I will not be your lucky charm.”

“And why is that again?”

To emphasize her incoming point, she moved directly to stand before me with her head raised as if I didn't find our height difference extremely adorable and not intimidating. “Because you’re the enemy, Bunny.”

I smirked at Sophia’s tenacity to maintain this act when I wordlessly know that she’s a full Harry Styles girlie inside and out now. I propelled myself to sit on the side counters of my garage, arms collecting Sophia to stand between my parted legs where I caged her presence in.

“I’m no longer the enemy, Sunflower.” I traced a confident circle at the bottom part of her thumb as Sophia continued to sneer at me.

“Your name on my phone is literally Styles, McLaren enemy and that hasn’t changed since the last time I checked.”

Alright, I didn’t expect that. I’m actually amusedly impressed at her creativity. “Are you for real?”

Instead of replying an affirmative yes or no, Sophia just hummed a soft noise that sounded like an affirmative one to my question, with her attention now drifting to my race gear. The way her dainty hands mindlessly began fixing the zip and collar strap of my race suit, made sure my gloves were fitted well, and even fetched my balaclava mask for me, it all points in the other direction. No person caringly and attentively dotes on their enemy the same way that she did.

“What do I have to do to get that unlawful title changed then?” I allowed her to help me put my balaclava mask on because I don’t have the heart to break her cute, mother hen-like concentrated face.

“For someone who I’m not even sure should keep driving, you’re taking a lot of risks promising me a Q3 and now the eagerness to change your very much lawful title on my phone.”

I stopped her methodological hands from reaching for my signature neon green helmet, intercepting both her hands to rest on my calmly beating chest. “I’m a ‘high risks, high rewards’ type of man, if you already couldn’t tell by my profession. Name the price, Sunflower, and I’d try my hardest to accomplish it. I’ll give it my full throttle effort.”

Since it was only my eyes she could perfectly see, there was no other way she could have looked at any other part of my face and spared me with that electrifying look. “Win me a race tomorrow. P1 on the podium and nothing less.”

Sophia’s request wasn’t a surprise in any means. Any guy would want to win the girl they fancy - and I more than fancy this woman if you can’t tell already - a Formula 1 race. But I guess I just found it funny because we’ve already talked extensively about my current shitty carrot car, and how I was certain I already made peace of not being in any podium this season as long as we score points for the Constructions. P3 already seems such a stretch from where I’m currently standing, getting her a P1 is like asking my sister to go on a date with Niall, which is so impossible because I don’t trust my sister with any of the twats here.

And that’s still the way I feel as I rolled my eyes with a silly laugh, allowing Sophia to lead me by the hand towards my car when we both heard the signal for me to head inside it. “I know I said I’d try full-throttle, but we both know my current car doesn’t even seem to have a throttle to begin with. I think I really need some lucky charm to not be your enemy anymore.”

I squeezed our clasped hands tightly before I was ushered to enter the car. Without the halo being attached to the vehicle yet, Sophia was able to help me put on my helmet that I didn’t even notice I still lacked. 

“Bunny, you don’t need a lucky charm.” Sophia expertly began strapping me in my seat like she does this every weekend.

“Why’s that?” I ask beneath my helmet just for her to hear, absolutely mesmerized by her precise and keen attention towards my safety.

“Because you also have a bright orange heart on your name in my phone. No one else is lucky enough to get that. I don’t think you need to look for any more luck than what you naturally already have.”

And then her face closed towards the top of my helmet where I felt her kiss the H.S imprinted on the protective gear. My eyes even closed shut like I really felt the softness of her lips on my own warm skin. The last thing I clearly saw was the wonder dancing all around my Sunflower’s big ocean blues.

“Keep driving, Golden Boy.” and she shut my visor for me, her words the only true thing penetrating my being as I took the signal from my team and drove to the starting grid.

Obviously, it was impossible that Sophia’s words were the only ones I kept on me because I did still have a Q3 to give her. A tough endeavor that requires a lot of serious attention to my driving skills, communication skills with my engineer, and channeling my focus into tapping my natural talent into maneuvering my orange vehicle. Nonetheless, her words are what I repeated mentally as a mantra every time I saw the opportunity to overtake the other much faster cars around me. I used Sophia’s words as a confidence boost when I got the chance to overtake Jeff at the DRS zone in turn nine, and I did the same when I blocked the overtake Grimmy tried to pull on me in the straights. 

There might have been a point near the few remaining laps where I screeched out loud Sophia’s words in absolute shock at Louis’ car suddenly spinning an alarming 360 degrees before hitting the gravel and sliding past the track limits in less than three seconds right in front of me. I’m pretty red at the face just thinking about Sophia hearing my outburst at the comms, not giving a damn what my engineer, team principal, and everyone else watching around the world thought. I was just stuck at the fact that my Sunflower probably now knows how I’m not just a goner for her confident actions, but her words had also absorbed inside me and took great hold of my being.

I was pretty much working on autopilot after that. Passing each curve, straight, hairpin and chicane with all my energy geared towards fulfilling my promise of a Q3 to the person who has embedded a part of herself within me in this drive. That’s all I truly thought about, so much so that I didn’t even realize I already crossed the finish line for my last lap. I wasn’t even coherent enough to count all the times I’ve gone back to the garage for my pit stops and to wait on the gap between Q1 to Q3.

“I believe that’s the end of Q3 for you, mate.” Will’s no-nonsense voice coming from my comms broke my concentrated haze. “And I can confirm that you’re starting at P3 for tomorrow’s race.”

If you didn’t hear my ecstatic scream all the way from where you’re reading this, then you’d also probably missed the way I acted like I won pole position when I parked my car at the P3 stand where the teams and media waited for the top three qualifying drivers. 

Niall took pole position as a surprise to no one, but I wholeheartedly embraced the shit out of him when he did tackle me to the floor to show his happiness for my best qualifying result for this season so far. Mitch, who scored the second position, only settled for giving me a tight normal hug without all the eager puppy energy our Irish friend exuded.

Though maybe sometimes I might have given Mitch less credit than what he really deserved, not when the words he whispered at me kept ringing in my ear the entire time we were interviewed and instructed to pose for the cameras.

“Maybe you should only keep driving when your girl is also coming right along with you for the ride.”

Mitch’s words and his casual tone took the forefront of my mind the entire time I got weighed by the FIA officials, and even as I reached the post-quali interview in the media pen. It still remained that way when I did media bits for the McLaren social media accounts to react to today's amazing session. It even followed me all the way to my walk to the garage, as it still held center stage of my attention as all my bosses and team staff embraced me and exclaimed their glee for today’s stellar performance for the entire McLaren team.

So maybe my preoccupied mind could be a justifiable reason why I almost dropped to my knees when I entered my driver’s room, completely forgetting about the fact I instructed Sophia right before qualifying prep began that she should wait for me in my room after the race. I had to physically catch my bearings as I held on to the sides of the door while I looked at a glowing Sophia sitting on my little massage table.

“Sunflower, you’re here.” It’s probably not the best thing to say, especially if you also count my lack of breath and the dazed manner I said it. But considering it’s the first few words I've uttered under full consciousness of my full thoughts, I give myself a pat on the back for A+ effort.

“I’m here, yeah.” Sophia’s face was etched with confusion, head tilting at my still out of breath form. “Bunny, where else would I be?”

And wasn’t just that the most fitting words she could have said in that exact, precise moment where it all came hitting me full force in all directions like a total stunner of a strike in a round of bowling. I must have also looked like I'd been hit by lightning outwardly because the way Sophia sprang from her seat when I began approaching her at the speed of light, showed every bit of concern her eyes couldn't contain on their own.

“Are you okay, Bunny? Is something the matter?” I wanted to instantly erase the apprehension in her voice, not when I felt like I was seconds away from bursting at the seams at how alive she made me feel being here with me. It’s not fair I can’t give her the same thrill like she did when she came along on the ride with me like Mitch had pointed out so offhandedly.

“I’m okay, Sunflower. Nothing to worry about, baby.” I cradled both her full cheeks on my palms, the skin-to-skin contact sent direct trembles from my fingertips all the way down to my tippy toes.

“Are you really?” The furrow on Sophia’s forehead didn’t soothe one bit, “then why are your hands shaking then?” I didn’t even notice that they were, not until she pointed it out and steadied them with a grounding hold on both my wrists.

To be honest, there’s no going around the truth that my hands were simply vibrating to life because I feel fueled-up, like I’m ready to go for another lap on the track just having my Sunflower’s delicate face on my hands. It’s quite terrifying how much I feel right now.

“I’m just so happy that you’re here, Sunflower.” I didn’t know if I was sounding repetitive but it’s what rolled off my tongue so effortlessly. “That you’re here with me in this ride, you were there with me in that ride for quali earlier.”

“Okay, I’m really lost right now.” Sophia confessed, “You seem fine to me so I’m not worried about you being dehydrated or anything like that. But I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Bunny.”

Her confusion doesn’t deter me from rubbing soft circles on the apples of her cheeks, “I’m just trying to say, albeit quite poorly because of all the avalanche of emotions you somehow release from me, that you’re right.”

“I’m usually right about 99.9% of the time,” give it to this girl to make me laugh unattractively when I’m trying to be vulnerable and bear my feelings to her. “You have to be more specific than that.”

“It’s about me not needing you as my lucky charm, just like you’ve said before I headed for the track. I’ve realized why you’re correct.”

From where I was looking down at her with my head slightly bent so she didn’t have to strain her neck to see my face head-on, I could see the path of her gorgeous ocean blues that observed every move of my face just like I did hers unabashedly. 

“So why was I correct?” She whispered, my forehead dropping to hers while I felt the room begin to blur. My eyes only retain focus on the enigma that is my Sunflower before me.

With both our eyes closing at the exact moment, noses touching in a gentle Eskimo kiss, it was the first time I ever felt alive in the silence of the room. “Because all you had to do was use your genuine words with me and I felt your presence the entire time I was in my car, living and breathing my passion in that race track.”

I hear and feel the way Sophia’s breath hitched at my words, a catalyst for finding the adequate words to say. “I didn’t need to keep you in my pocket like some tangible lucky charm, because what you say impacts me just as much as what you do for me. And you do a lot for me, my Sunflower. You don’t even know the extent of how everything about you has a chokehold on my soul right now.”

“I was thinking about you, you know?” I felt the ghost of her admission near my smiling lips. “The entire time you were out there. I couldn’t think of anything else other than wanting you to prove me wrong.”

“I bet that would have been a really tough pill to swallow because you’re 99.9% right most of the time, naturally.”

Sophia giggled because I’m a fool who’s not brave enough like her in accepting the weighted words that I just know are coming. My Sunflower matches my confidence level just as much as the strength of my solidarity. If I pour my heart out, she’ll follow directly after my footsteps because she wants to be there with me on the same page, on the exact story, at all times.

“Naturally, I knew deep down there was no way I could keep you out of my mind, no less my entire bloody system. Not when I began rooting for another team because of you, and not when I challenged you yet wanted to be proven wrong. Because out of every single person present here and not, I don’t think anyone wanted to see you this fucking badly in Q3 than me.”

As if our minds collided to share the same thought, our eyes opened at the exact same second. What’s worse? The corner of my lips rose just as much as Sophia’s did like utter telepathy shit. “I felt you with me, Sunflower. I really did. That entire race all I could concentrate on was your words engraved on my soul.”

“That’s why you said it in the comms.” Sophia’s gems are not gleaming in smugness at the realization, it’s shining more content than anything.

“I wish I could play it all suave that it’s just the natural talent in me talking when I drive, but I’m not that much of an idiot who’d disregard something that held this much gravity on my racecraft and overall sanity.”

Sophia bopped her nose with mine in a giggle, “You’re just an idiot for falling on my pointless challenges when we all know dimple-weakness syndrome runs in my family.”

My mum never told me that accompanying the person who makes you feel alive in the silent of times, is the magical ability for them to turn the solitude moments of vigor into something serenely calm. Because as Sophia and I exchanged a laugh, our heads thrown back and arms wrapped contently around each other, I felt absolutely tranquil and still; like I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else other than the beam of her glowing sun rays.

But as much as the idea of a Q3 celebration is thrown at the window in favor of spending all my time with this girl, I had to catch a post-quali debriefing with the team like my career requires. It didn’t take long for Lambert to be the sacrificial lamb - he said it himself in faux nausea - to be the one to break our connection. Meaning, he literally had to peel me off Sophia's body because I couldn’t possibly care about my bloody racing career when I had every single thing I wanted collected in my arms already. 

Then of course, my Sunflower had to be the perfect sunshine that she is, one who actually gave a damn about my source of income, and promised a surprise treat for me after I went to my meeting. And like a lovesick man hooked on being the source of the sparkle in her energy, I succumbed to Lambert’s intervention after I made sure to leave a lasting kiss on Sophia’s forehead.

I’m unsure if she felt that lasting effects as much as I did the imprint of her soft skin on my lips, which was at the periphery of my mind the entire quali debriefing. Thankfully I was spurred on by Sophia’s mysterious treat for me, that I used it as an incentive to actually pay attention to the important words and information coming from my team. 

It must really say something about my love for my craft despite this season’s unlikely vehicle because soon enough, I lost track of time talking with the engineers and race data analysts about what could be further improved on the car’s pace, speed, traction, and grip for tomorrow’s main event. I do the same majority of the weekends every year, and yet it still surprises me the same amount when I emerge from that meeting knowing deep in my gut, I’d love to converse about that carrot of car all over again.

But that can wait for tomorrow’s meeting as I still had a surprise treat waiting for me. Sophia never really informed me of her plans before we parted ways, though one look at the railings that separated the pitlane from the track, I could perfectly see her yellow handbag sitting on one of the chairs in the grandstand. It’s the same bright one from the day we first met, and honestly, the audacity of Sophia to complain about McLaren’s signature bright orange aesthetic when she’s there sitting all pretty in the grandstand waving her equally eye-sore of a bag to catch my attention - as if she didn’t have that already since the morning when we walked inside the paddock.

I made quick work of jogging to reach the other side of the track, channeling my inner bunny energy as I hopped the stairs of the grandstand two at a time. “Sunflower, what are you doing here? You’re bloody late for the race if you were planning to catch my orange carrot to zoom past in front of you.”

Sophia just shook her head at my words, standing up from her seat to grab my arms and lead me to the chair she was previously waiting on. Without saying anything, she gently pushed my chest to sit on the chair, “Stop being a twat. I’m here bearing treats as promised.”

She then shoved a packet of something towards my face before taking the seat right beside mine. Thank fuck I have the reaction time of an F1 driver or else journalists would most definitely question me tomorrow on who caused the black eye I would have been sporting. 

“Are you sure you’re also not a fan of baseball? Because that throw was almost MLB worthy.”

By that point, the roll of Sophia’s eyes didn’t do harm as much as it did something pleasant to my nerve endings. “If I were a fan of baseball, I’d have thrown something less appetizing on your annoying mug.”

“Harsh.” I pointed out with a hand on my chest for my flair of dramatics. “But I’d let this threat of body harm pass, Sunflower, because you bought me some,” I looked at the cold package that she threw at me. “Some delicious Magnum ice cream. Thank you, baby.”

Naturally, I had to show my utmost gratitude at her thoughtfulness through closing the gap between our seats and kissing both her blushing cheeks. “You’re welcome, Bunny. Now start munching before I bite and take that away from you.”

I didn’t disagree with her words as we both opened our own packets to start munching. Sophia might have given me the highest honors of taking the first bite of the heavenly brownies from last night’s dinner at Angie’s, however she did not refrain from actually nipping my finger when I tried taking the last bite as well. My Sunflower is apparently quite notorious when it comes to dessert eating proceedings: I can’t take the last bite if I already did the first or else, I’ll go on dessert exile the next time I join them for dinner.

“So, what’s the plan?” I turned to Sophia while eating my ice cream after a good amount of comfortable silence surrounded us. She shrugged, sitting more comfortably on her chair.

“I didn’t really have a definite plan aside from getting you a sweet treat. I was actually supposed to get you some ice lollies cause you were looking for some during your post-race interview. But sadly, it looks like the entire population of Imola also had the same thought and all ice lollies were out. I had to settle with some trusty Magnum.”

“I was looking for ice lollies during my post-race interview?”

Sophia met my confused stare with her amused one. “Yeah. Your curls were all sweaty yet adorably messy, and your flushed face was blabbering about the scorching heat and how you can’t believe the FIA has budget for hosting galas and yet not even a penny was spent on providing ice lollies as refreshment for their drivers.”

That did sound like my carefree (and little diva, but no one’s really asking) self so I giggled along with Sophia, “I honestly don’t remember saying that, but good for my subconscious self who stood-up for my fellow drivers and I’s rights on proper post-race amenities.”

“Which are of course ice lollies - and you specifically emphasized that it only had to be strawberry, kiwi, and watermelon flavored.”

“Well of course!” I clapped at my genius subconscious self for being quite alert. “Only the best flavors for the best 20 drivers in the world.”

I smirked at Sophia’s heavy snicker. “For someone who’s so sure of his driving abilities right now, it doesn’t shadow the fact you’re as forgetful as my nonno.”

“I’d take that as a compliment if the reason your nonno is being forgetful is also because of the magnetism of Angie.”

‘What’s my nonna have to do with this?” She raised a brow in question, “and I suggest you don’t call Angie that in person or else I’d surely have to exert all my efforts in retracting her from you.”

If she only knew how I was absolutely threatened by her nonna’s deathly stares with just my thought of letting go of Sophia’s hand. “All I’m saying is you’ve had me preoccupied the entire time I was doing every post-race activity earlier. When I said that you came along for the ride with me, you really did some serious damage to my heart, mind, my entire bloody being, Sunflower. You’ve got me all dropping to my knees just thinking about you.”

I guess I should have known that Sophia’s faux wrenching at my admission meant she also has a daily limit to her sappy in-take. “Bunny, stop being sappy, per I’amor di dio. I’ve already reached my daily dosage of your kind words.”

I would have probably taken offense and proven to her that she deserved more than what I could physically give and tell her. Yet Sophia’s honestly seized my breath away. There’s no denying that the serene smile of utter contentment she directed towards my way, had left me no choice but to shut my noisy mouth and just bask in her glimmering happiness.

I might have continued to stare at her infectious energy for more than a second straight, because I don’t blame the way she flushed all the way to her ears as she cupped my jaw to turn it to the side herself. “Bunny, stop looking at me.” Sophia giggled, “Oh look! Let’s just watch the sunset like the first time at the beach.”

Any mention of that fateful day will always get my attention on the highest degree it can possibly reach. Who wouldn’t want to experience again the first time they felt the axis of their world shift upon realizing they’re one of the lucky ones who gets to meet and experience life with their soulmate?

I’m a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic who sneaks off to binge-watch Gossip Girl just to catch all the Blair and Chuck scenes instead of doing my homework, like that of watching all the official clips of previous races James personally compiled to review for me. So it fits my character mold when I tapped my lap to really recreate that afternoon’s premiere sunset.

“What? Why are you doing that?” Sophia motioned for my continuously tapping palms on my lap. Instead of verbally replying, I put my entire trust on our unbending telepathy. It clicked for her the exact moment I finished my serving of Magnum.

“Oh, sorry. But I’m not doing that.” Sophia glanced at my lap in disgust, like she didn’t name it her rightful throne already. I did not have a problem pouting at her.

“Why not?” I tried my hardest not to fall for the crinkles on the side of her eyes in full playfulness at my needy attitude.

“I’m not sitting on your lap, Bunny!”

“Well why not, Sunflower?”

“Because I spent the entire time finding the best seat in the grandstand that has the prime view of the sunset! I literally tried every seat just to make that possible, and now you want me to sit on your lap and throw away all my hard work?”

Just the image of Sophia sitting her cute little bum on every seat here because she’s an actual adorable tiny flower who gives a care for the best seat to watch the sunset, had me cheesing a disgusting amount. However, there was one single fact that shone brighter than others. “I thought you said you didn’t have any set plans.”

There’s no mistaken that I had caught her red-handed. “Huh? I don’t have any set plans, that’s correct.” Actually, what isn’t correct was the look of innocence she tried to pair with her guilty eyes.

“Are you sure?” I pressed further, the pads of my finger pinched my bottom lip in a contemplative expression. “Because I swear you just implied that the entire time I was in my meeting, you spent yours trying every seat here to find us the perfect one to undergo your splendid plan of watching the Italian sunset with me.”

The way Sophia’s shoulders sagged at my bullseye words, does nothing but to boost my smirk to cover my entire face. Not even when she threw me her infamous glare could have stopped it. “If you think saying that could get me to sit on your lap, then you’re seriously a tosser who knows no better.”

“I didn’t say anything mean, though!” I defended with my arms raised in surrender. “I used the word ‘splendid’ to showcase how I thought about your plans. And who doesn’t love a sunset? Jeez, well I sure am not a tosser for not liking an Italian sunset.”

Sophia decided to ignore my beaming face in favor of facing the sunset with her arms crossing below her chest. “Well, have a splendid time watching the Italian sunset on your own, without me on your lap then.”

Naturally, I couldn’t settle for that. Not when my needy ass is itching on the edge of my seat to get my Sunflower on the place where she truly belongs. And if you haven’t caught the memo yet, I was talking about my lap.

Because I was quite the type of person who found displeasure in a worried Sophia and knew that the telling worked both ways, I decided to prove Niall’s statement correct that I am a needy little bunny who needed more than just attention from the people I adore.

“I couldn’t get you a P1 for quali, so I guess I do deserve this punishment.” I sighed, laying the self-deprecation really thick to start with. I copied her position of facing my front towards the sunset. “I mean, I know I already have a shitty car this season, so I don’t understand why I didn’t push myself harder when I already got the chance of the lifetime to enter Q3. Seriously, am I this awful at racing already? I can't even capitalize on the best quali chance I can get for this entire year. I really should consider the new Formula E team they were telling me about, maybe there I won’t be such a shitty driver and I could possibly get you a pole position like you deser-”

“Shut up.” I was not expecting Sophia to cut my rambling by climbing me like a tree to straddle my lap. It was instinctual to steady her on the hips, but what wasn’t is how she crashed her full lips on mine without a second thought for my crumbling sanity concerning her.

My dainty and bright Sunflower kissed me for the first time. It did not take a dig at my non-toxic masculinity ego compared to the way it did steal my literal breath away. If Sophia thought our first kiss would contain just a hard press of her sweet lips on mine, then she’ll learn pretty quickly I don’t operate like that. 

I tugged her closer to my body, one hand coming to rest on the middle of her backside to make sure her short sundress wouldn't flow upwards, while my other hand cupped her chin so her sweet lips wouldn’t leave mine as I kissed her the way I felt natural. Passionate. Wet. Deep. Soul-binding.

Too bad oxygen is still an actual thing in the world you need for survival. Moving a few inches away from her parted lips to let her breathe for a minute, was probably one of the hardest things I had to endure in my entire existence. It was so difficult I couldn’t stop the way my lips gravitated towards her jawline and peppered my kisses there.

“First you tell me you didn’t plan a sunset date with me, and then you decline to sit on my lap. Now that you’re on your throne, you decide you have the power to claim our first kiss from me.” 

I captured her tempting lips on my own once more, suckling lightly at her tender bottom lip when the tip of her clever tongue tried to outsmart me. I might have allowed her to take the reins on our first kiss, but I’m not one to get Frenched in an Imola grandstand so easily. Sophia definitely took note of the way I gate-kept her tongue from tangling with mine as she pulled her lips away from me, accompanied by an undeniable groan of annoyance.

“I should have known someone so narcissistic like you won’t ever talk so lowly of yourself,” Sophia muttered those words directly on the moist skin of my lips, every single syllable I breathed like an intoxicated man. “It was all a ploy to get me on your lap. And now you’re being a downright twat not allowing me to get my way with your mouth. With that being said, I think you should just shut up unless you’ve got anything better to do than be annoying.”

She can’t say things like that and not expect to get a reaction from me. And reaction meant succumbing to my inner alpha male who cannot stand being a source of carnal displeasure of his lady. If it meant I grasped her jaw securely and rolled my tongue directly inside her sinful mouth, then I’m officially a goner for this woman’s demands. I’d pretty much allow her to French me in this Imola grandstand or in any other grandstands in all the countries in the race calendar if she wants this to become a new tradition of ours.

With one last deep draw with Sophia’s apparently very cunning tongue, I parted for air. “Who’s not bloody talking now?”

My smug aura did not bode well with the wanton hues burning in Sophia’s ocean blues. Not when she bit her now cherry red, swollen bottom lip from kissing. Especially not when she roughly closed her soft hands on the base of my neck to close the miniscule gap between our charged bodies.

“Bunny, just shut up, will you?”

If shutting up included her full lips encasing my waiting ones, and her nimble tongue pushing and tangling with mine, driving me outside the tracks of my depths for any coherent logic? My Sunflower doesn’t even have to ask twice.

From now on, I will always allow her to get her way with my mouth.

🌻🌻🌻

If someone would have told me about a week ago that I’d be attending the Imola Grand Prix as a VIP guest of one of the current drivers in the grid, I would have told them to scurry away cause their delusional thoughts need some serious help. But since that actually somehow occurred and said driver had actually just finished eating breakfast with my nonna and I before driving me to the paddock with him, I’d guess there are much crazier things that can happen in my lifetime.

I’m just not sure if walking inside the paddock, hand-in-hand with a chirpy McLaren Golden Boy, while wearing an off the shoulder top in their signature orange color, could already be considered as one of the demented ideas I had in my twenty-something years of existence. I’m seriously questioning my life choices when I heard numerous whistles in the paddock with  everyone taking notice and adamantly documenting my conversion to the bloody eye-sore orange side.

I tugged at our clasped hands to stop Harry from his leisure walk, he smirked down at my furrowed brows when I rested my chin on his toned biceps to be able to look at his tall frame properly. “I don’t think this is a good idea. Bunny, please bring me back to your car so I can change my outfit.”

My jutted bottom lip didn't do the trick, well at least not the kind of trick I was expecting. But the way he easily bridged the gap between our faces, and captured my lips on his smirking ones for a quick tender peck, is something I’m quickly being absolutely dandy to receive in any circumstance. I don’t even mind the audible jaw dropped expressions of everyone witnessing our intimate exchange. PDA doesn’t faze me, but wearing the team colors of a non-Red Bull team? That actually feels like an ‘open the ground and eat me alive’ type of embarrassment that should not be circulating social media in any way.

“No need for your adorable pout, it’s very tempting, Sunflower.” Harry proved his point through seizing my bottom lip for another soft suckle, “Besides, you look extra adorable in your orange fit. I didn’t even know you could look even more irresistible than before.” He squeezed both my cheeks together like he just couldn’t contain all his feelings for me.

“You have to say that because my nonna’s got you wrapped around her witch-like finger. That traitor.” I shook my head in disgust just thinking back to our breakfast date earlier.

“Oh yeah, Angie was the one to buy you this lovely top,” Harry twirled the ends of the bow that tied the bust of my top. “I loved the fresh orange juice she made earlier, by the way. But I must say, the minute she brought this top for you to wear today, I swear you’re even more delectable in this orange top than any fresh produce.”

I, on the other hand, swear that Harry just gets the time of his life making me blush, “I can’t believe you just compared me to a fruit.”

He bopped his nose with mine in amusement, “And I can’t believe I easily converted nonna Red Bull fan to the positive, and orangey-bright side whi-”

“More like doubtful, and orangey-yuck side.”

“- while you’re here interrupting me instead of being the brave girl you proclaimed to be. Baby,” Harry pinched my chin to angle towards his smiling face. “You know I won’t force you to wear my team colors, but you’re the one who told me you needed this as a slow yet tangible commitment in transitioning to be with McLaren’s Golden Boy.”

What was I even thinking of making such a life-altering commitment like that? I solely blame it on being drunk on my Bunny’s intoxicating kisses, mixed with the high of a breathtaking Imola sunset. Who would have thought the two mixed together would be such a lethal concoction for my faint heart? Just remembering the pride surging through my veins when I watched Harry reach Q3, I knew then that I was at the right garage celebrating with the most hardworking team that I’ve ever been fortunate to meet. 

When we resumed our walk to the paddocks heading to the McLaren hospitality, I slowly made peace with my reality that wearing this orange color is the least I could do to support this lovely bunch. And can we really just be honest for a second here? The way Harry looked at me with so much wonder and appreciation as his team cheered at the new colors I was adorned in, is always going to be enough for me to continue doing it again and again in every damn race weekend I’d have the pleasure of joining next.

You guys already know that I have felt right at home in Harry’s garage ever since my first visit from yesterday. That’s why when he was whisked to do all his pre-race duties, I gave no qualms in being left behind in the comfort of his garage. Besides, time moves fast when I’m having fun and being right at my element with vehicles. Conversing and learning from his mechanics and engineers didn’t seem like a task that took hours.

But apparently it did. I was honestly shocked how time got away from me once more as an out of breath Harry physically dragged me away from my conversation with Lambert and Will. Thankfully they didn’t take offense at the racer’s rudeness, shouting ‘good luck’ my way instead, as Harry continued to pull me towards the direction of his driver’s room in the motorhome.

“Just finished the driver’s parade,” Harry quickly pushed the door open to his room, ushering me inside with a hand on the small of my back. “Now I need cuddles before they whisk me away from you.”

After revealing his demands just like that, Harry doesn’t even bother waiting for my response as he flops himself back-first on this bean bag looking couch that wasn’t in his room yesterday. I would know because I stayed in the room after his qualifying, trying to cool down from the burning and tingling sensations I got all over my body after watching Harry Styles drive his car while wearing that form-fitting delectable racesuit of his. But obviously he doesn’t need to know that he affects me in that way too or he might get other ideas instead of cuddling.

I arched a brow at his unbothered manspreading on the bean bag, arms folded behind his head in a lazy fashion. “What’s this about? I believe this piece of furniture wasn’t here yesterday.”

Harry doesn’t even bother on producing an alibi and gets straight to the point. “I asked the team to order one yesterday afternoon before we left, and I personally paid for same day delivery so that we can use it right now.”

I appraised him with a nod of approval, “I appreciate the bluntness and honesty. But I must say, it’s very bold of you to assume that a lady like myself would just accept that answer and follow your demands as if you know what I do and don’t.”

He must have known I wasn’t just easily going to agree with his needy ways. The way he stood up effortlessly from his comfortable sprawled position and stood before me with his head bending downwards to meet my ablaze eyes, tells a lot about his competitive nature in winning me over.

“Sunflower, I’m quite hurt you’d think so little of me after all the time I trusted you to spend in my garage,” He tucks a strand of wayward curls behind my ear because it’s been established that the McLaren driver has a thing for making my cheeks flame. “Only the special ones get to hang out there, and only the most special ones, like you,” he booped my nose with the pad of his index finger, “get to sit inside my precious car.”

“You calling me the most special doesn’t explain the things I’d personally follow along to or not.”

“Actually, my explanation to that is in what you just said,” If he thought I was going to be intimated at the way he stood back from my personal space to be able to stand tall and proud while completely overlooking my smaller form, then he better be ready by the dagger eyes I’d be sending his way.

“You gladly took my hand to help you inside my car because I was the one who initiated it, and you wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t the one who gave you the permission. Similarly, you’d cuddle with me on that bean bag I just bought for you because I asked like a gentleman. You only wouldn’t follow if I didn’t demand otherwise. Now tell me, Sunflower, since when did you start thinking I didn’t know you adore it when I initiate things first and make demands from you?”

Isn’t that always our downfall, fellow women out there? It’s always the confident, demanding, alpha male who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to ask for, that we try to attract and then resist and then ultimately fall head over heels in love with. There’s no denying it’s the exact same Achilles heel I experienced with this needy and smirking man in front of me. And I’m not even confident to say that I despise this downfall because can it really be called that when I feel my panties dampening at his assertive aura alone?

But you know what differentiates me from the others? I don’t view this part of me as a weakness. I perceive it as a source of power that I’m not afraid to admit and welcome the kind of possessive and self-assured man that can consume every part of my being.

I had no problem in my confident facade crumbling before Harry. My shoulders dropped down in surrender as I embraced his innate calming energy. His own expression softened too, bridging the gap between us. Harry seemed to have no qualms of his own as he cradled my full cheeks; another one of his affectionate actions I’m quickly being very familiar with.

“Since you know me so well,” I sighed in complete honesty, “you could have just repeated your demands and I would have cracked the second time around.”

Because I also seemed to fall for the little shits, Harry pinched my smiling cheeks like I’m some adorable kid. “Now where’s the fun in that?” I laughed as he gently pushed my forehead away, tapping my bum when I turned around towards the bean bag. “Now get your little bum there and get comfortable cause I won’t let go of you until I’ve taken all my rightful fills of cuddles for today.”

I situated my yellow handbag at the side of the couch before gracefully sitting myself in the middle of the softest piece of furniture I have ever laid on. Jesus, I almost moaned in bliss feeling like I was resting on a fluffy cloud. The only thing that stopped me from doing so is the sudden appearance of a gloomy cloud that began to shadow Harry’s serene face.

I didn’t like that look one bit. Not when he looked so bubbly and poised just seconds ago. Hence, I tried to make light of the situation. “Even if I’m the McLaren Golden Boy’s girl now, wearing orange with me would only allow you cuddling privileges, and no bum touching, mister.” I solidified my point by moving my index finger from side to side directed at his face.

But it didn’t make Harry explode in that guffawing laughter that has become my favorite sound in the last two days. Instead, he settled with a closed lip smile - without dimples! “I promise to keep my hands to myself then.”

I wanted to shake my head at his wrong response; I don’t want him to keep his hands to himself! I slowly started to be seriously concerned by his sudden change of mood, when my Bunny didn’t eagerly banter back with my clear teasing words.

The furrow in my brows can speak for themselves, and it was easy to spot that Harry recognized my concern too. The way he tried to conceal his murky thoughts did not work in hiding the glint of guilt peeking from his evergreens.

Now I don’t want him to feel guilty about being gloomy around me because whatever emotions he may have will always be valid. I just want to make him feel better and soothe whatever these worries that suddenly came into him. With my arms wide open, I called for my wounded Bunny. “Hey, come here, baby.”

Harry didn’t hesitate in following. He carefully crouched down on the bean bag, slotting himself against my pliable body, long limbs tangling with my shorter ones as he rested the side of his head on the top of my chest. His strong arms took hold around my middle, my own coming up near his head to play with his cherubic curls, while my other hand Harry clutched in his own.

I couldn’t help but coo at the sigh of contentment Harry let out when I began dropping soft kisses on his forehead to soothe the frowns that were forming. “Bunny, I don’t want to force you if you just want to cuddle here silently, but I can tell something’s wrong and I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry nuzzled his nose in the middle of my torso, like he wanted to hide his face from me. I couldn’t let that happen so I freed my hand from his hold to angle his chin to look at me. He let out a whine when I did. “Heyy, give me back your hand, Sunflower. I was holding it to find comfort.”

How could I not feel absolutely enamored by his reasoning? It doesn’t take a genius to know that I allowed him to hold my hand tightly again, and that the growing soft spot in my heart that’s in the shape of him, began filling my eyes with unshed tears.

“Are you hurt, Bunny?” Just asking that felt like needles poking my insides. “Did anyone do something wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” My escalating frazzled tone caused Harry to stiffen in my hold, his eyes locking in mine with a shade of determinedness I’ve never seen directed at me before.

“Whatever’s going on with me, has nothing to do with you, my sweet girl.” He squeezed our clasped hands tightly, bringing it near his lips to litter the back of my hand with light kisses all the way from the tips of my finger. “You don’t need to worry about anything, I’m alright.”

“Then why are you finding comfort in holding my hand?”

The whiny accusation is poorly hidden in my question, though it produced some spark of light in Harry’s gloomy irises. “Why do I like them persistent?” He seemed to ask himself more than me, but I answered anyway.

“Because you’re a stubborn idiot who needs a person that can prove to you that you don’t have to shoulder every worry you have on your own.” I stared at his eyes with the utmost persistence that I can show. “You’re not a lone wolf anymore, Harry.” I moved our entwined hands to tenderly caress his cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re my Bunny now, love. I’m here for you when you’re shining the brightest. But I’m especially always here for you when your troubled thoughts dim your glow. I’m here, Bunny.”

I only hoped my words came across the way I wanted it to, because Harry just closed his eyes, still holding my hand on his cheek without saying anything. Until he did.

“I just remembered I’m starting very near the front row in the grid today,” His eyes remained closed, gorgeous long lashes resting comfortably on the top of his cheekbones. “It’s the best start the entire team has had this season, and it feels like a one in a million chance to achieve again. So that made me start thinking, and then the worries began to pour in all at once making me overthink. If we don’t have a reliable car, then that means all the pressure to drive well will all go down to how I drive later. Which I’m not mad about because I love racing, this is what I was born to do. But, I’m no perfect human. I’m bound to make mistakes every day. I just don’t want those to be in a few minutes from now. I can’t disappoint the entire team because they’ve been working so hard and they more than deserve this win. I can’t fuck this up for them, Sunflower.”

The moment Harry opened his eyes, the depths of his brewing troubled thoughts all surfaced, meeting my intent gaze all at once. If earlier I felt like needles were poking my insides, right now I feel like I’ve fallen down on my knees after my heart had burst at the seams from the overflowing admiration I have for this man’s kind soul. 

Because of course he isn’t an encompassing cocky racer who believes they never do wrong to lose. Because surely someone as revered as the McLaren Golden Boy would only care about winning for himself. But no. My Bunny is not that.

My Bunny is the type of man who would snuggle deeper into me, embracing his vulnerable side after being brave enough to realize that he isn’t alone in his own insecurities and anxieties. He's the kind of man who wouldn’t take all the credit for winning; would rather not be called the Golden Boy just to make the people most important to him feel like the golden ones.

I might have let some of those unshed tears run after all. “Harry Styles, you truly are one of the rare ones.”

I’m sure it wasn’t what he was expecting to hear from me, not when it caught him off-guard with a snort. “You can’t use that to describe me. I already refer to you as the rare one in this relationship.”

“But you’re such a darling boy, though.” I let him thumb away my tears because I see the beginnings of my favorite dents on his smiling face. “Can we compromise in agreeing to call each other as rare?”

I knew I sounded ridiculous but it did get me the laugh I wanted from Harry, even if he proceeded to roll his eyes at me. “No can do, Sunflower. Besides, how am I part of the rare league when I’m just like every single regular lad out there who’s insecure of failing people? There’s nothing rare about that.”

There was no way I would allow him to talk badly about himself, not when I’ve already gotten a great progress in returning him to his usual smiley person. I squeezed his cheeks together to look at me directly when Harry tried to hide his face on the side of my neck.

“That still sounds very rare to me, Bunny.” I told him earnestly without a shadow of a doubt. “None of the guys I’ve ever been with have ever confided in me on what made them hurt and worried. You’re a rare darling boy because you found the tenacity to open up to me. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a pretty damn rare thing to do.”

He’s not wrong about calling me persistent earlier, and I recognized the way his eyes mapped my features for him to see that my intentions came from a good place. “Some shitty guys you’ve been with then, huh.”

He phrased it as a statement rather than a question which made me bite my lip because Harry’s smug self - my favorite character of his, but don’t tell! - was slowly coming back to life before my eyes. “Yeah, they were. Clearly unlike you who worries unnecessarily about their team’s reaction when you inevitably make a mistake later on the track.”

Harry’s jaw dropped open, “Wow. I can’t believe you just brought it out to the universe that I’ll make a mistake later. Jesus, I’m really fucked then.” That earned him a tough tug on one of his curls because the drama queen side of his is not really my vibe.

“Bunny, you making a mistake doesn’t equate to you losing in the race.” I clarified, the sincerity in my tone stopped him from trying to make light of the situation. “I’m not here to devalue your worries and fears, okay? Your emotions will always have value to me. I’m here to help you in making sense of them. Because let me tell you, Bunny, every single individual in your team, whether they’re in the garage, in the hospitality, or even those in the factory, will vouch for what I’m about to say.”

I pressed my forehead on Harry’s, wanting him to hear my next words without a single space of misinterpretation. “The last thing anyone in your team wants is to get in the way of your winning performance later because you’re worried about their reactions if things don’t go smoothly. That all you should think about is the present moments and not the ones for later afternoon. It’s pointless to stress about what hasn’t happened yet.” I pecked both his closed lids when I felt his arms around my cuddled body tighten.

“Bunny, my darling boy,” I whispered directly on the soft skin of his temple, sprinkling butterfly kisses on his supple skin. “You only need to believe that you’re going to win. Despite the inevitable hurdles that may happen, and despite your negative thoughts swimming in your head, That’s all you have to do. That’s just what we - your team - is asking from you.”

I thought it was the perfect time to actually verbally announce my new allegiance. And I believe Harry thought so too. The way his pretty eyes opened and peered at me from beneath his wispy lashes spoke of that truth.

“You really believe that?” His tone was soft, mixed with a touch of disbelief and a sprinkle of astoundment.

“Yup.” I nodded my head in full conviction, right hand returning to play with his curls. “I stand true to my words. And quite frankly, everyone else can fuck off if they’d think otherwise.”

Maybe all this time Harry was just waiting for me to cuss out everyone else that didn’t matter. Because the little shit erupted in rambunctious laughter like he wasn’t my wounded Bunny from earlier who came to me to lick and soothe his scrapes. He further proved the positive switch on his demeanor when Harry proceeded to swiftly maneuver our cuddled bodies to switch positions. I yelped as he easily took my place on the bean bag while he carried me, sprawled across his broad chest like I weighed as much as a feather. 

“Warn a lady when you manhandle her, please.” I cozied myself on top of him, my face finding solace on the crook of his neck where I decided to nip as punishment for his actions.

It was Harry’s turn to yelp, but the sting couldn’t be so bad when I went ahead to lick his reddened skin afterwards. But obviously, that doesn’t stop the menace from landing a blow on my bum cheek, making me hiss and glare up at him.

“I’m not going to warn you when I manhandle your body to my liking, Sunflower.” Harry’s smirking face is something I shouldn’t find as attractive as I actively do. “Where’s the fun in that?”

I didn’t have it in me to think of a witty retort to counter his; not when I feel relief wash all over my senses at being face to face with my fully confident and smiley darling Bunny. I was scared there for a moment that I wouldn’t be able to see him again in his usual glory that I fell for to begin with.

Without a mirror present in the room, I still knew that my face probably expressed all the overwhelming emotions I felt. Because Harry’s cocky grin that I adore transformed to that of his softer one, like the exact same one he gave my nonna earlier over breakfast when she told him to continue what the hell he was doing because she hadn’t seen me this full of vibrating energy for a while now.

Harry cupped my cheek and slowly led our lips to meet in the middle for a syrupy sweet kiss. “Thank you, Sunflower.” His words imprinted itself all over my tingling lips as he kept giving me tender kisses. “I really needed to hear that. I just didn’t know that I needed to hear it specifically from your angelic mouth.”

I let out a giggle in the middle of our lips meeting, “I just flipped off all the nasty people who don't believe in you. I don’t think that’s pretty angelic.”

“You’re my personal ray of sunshine I never knew I needed. That makes you angelic to me in all regards.” There’s no part of Harry’s tone that could suggest he was only jesting. And there’s no way I could hide from his soulful evergreens that are swimming with potent veracity. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who believed in me so candidly; who can surpass my own confidence in believing that I can have a winning performance.”

“It’s not a ‘can’, Bunny. You will.” 

My interruption made the galaxies in his eyes explode in an utter disarray of perfectly imperfect fallen stars. Every single piece of them descending down straight to my beguiled pools as I looked at Harry in a fresher set of eyes.

How was I not able to notice the enigma that this man is before? Why am I only discovering this precious human now?

I don’t have any answers to that. But what I do hold is the one-off chance to make him believe and see the invaluable soul that he has inside of him. One that he only needs to utilize to be able to hinder all the anxieties to cloud his vision. And if that means I have to use both my words and actions, so be it.

I surged forward and kissed Harry with all the force I could give. “Styles, winning performance.”

He looked at me with a dazed expression when we parted from that fervent kiss. But it didn’t take him long to knock his forehead on mine with a manic grin. “Say that again.”

He doesn’t have to ask me at all. “Styles, winning performance.”

“Winning performance.” He repeated my words like he was testing if he liked how it rolled off on his own tongue. I guess he got his verdict when he repeated the same two words with more conviction than our last minutes together, crashing his lips on mine once more like he could actually tangibly take the words straight out of my own tongue.

Too bad that things don’t actually work that way as I made it known quite quickly to Harry.

When he was called to get ready for the race, I pulled at our clasped hands to stop him from walking. I raised his large and capable hand to my lips and drew soft kisses on the tattooed skin. “Winning performance.”

When we reached his garage and he proceeded to put his gloves and balaclava mask on, I intercepted his helmet from his hold to grasp him at the back of the neck so he could bend down and meet my waiting lips. “Winning performance.”

When he was doing last minute conversations about strategies with his race engineer, I tapped the arm that was curved around my waist so I could stand on my tiptoes and whisper directly in his ear, “Winning performance.”

And when he got the clear that I could be the one to strap him in his car just like yesterday, I uttered the same two words with just the same, if not more, amount of confidence I could muster. “Winning performance.”

“Sunflower, winning performance.”

That was Harry’s last parting words to me before I closed his visor for him, not long before he zoomed out from his garage and all of us took our headsets to hear the McLaren boys’ race live. 

As the three red lights turned to four and then all out in a second, I felt completely calm watching every single one of those rocket-like vehicles zoom past the tricky turn 1. I felt the stillness radiate in me because I know that my Bunny and I are in that race car together, repeating the same two words in the same assured breath.

That’s honestly the only thing that kept me level-headed the entire duration of the race. Nobody actually tells you that watching a Grand Prix straight from a team garage is 101% more intense and hyperactive than watching it with your mates at home over brunch and free-flowing mimosas. I couldn’t even count the amount of people who have shaken my shoulders in feverish glee when Harry was able to overtake some drivers in several DRS zones. Similarly, I couldn’t tell you how many people I’ve dragged to jump up and down with me in utter heated excitement when Harry set the fastest lap record in the middle of the race.

I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. Not even when the inevitable mistakes came, in the form of going too wide in the chicane, and that random lock-up in two hairpins. I especially appreciated the high-spirited company during those moments. It made my heart warm being a first-hand witness on the positive, encouraging, and ardent emotions Harry’s team has for him, despite what his negative thoughts might have said. 

I only hope his worries have subsided while driving, and I think I might be quite right in that regard. Because when Harry came in for his first pit stop, the barely two seconds of changing tires allotted him some time to actually wave at me since I was near the entrance of his garage. I thought he was a crazy little shit for having time for that, and everyone else agreed with me in chaotic laughter. The only thing that didn’t make me worried that he might have lost focus, is the fact that my Bunny must be back in his vibrant self if he was able to easily switch to his usual idiotic character.

I just kept repeating our two words when there were only a few more laps left from the total of 63. How those lads are able to go round and round for 63 times without losing their minds is beyond me. I’ve been at the cusp of blowing up in adrenaline just watching them since the first five laps! Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait that long anymore.

In bated breath, I clutched Lambert’s hand for dear life when the 63rd lap finally commenced. Everyone in the garage is eerily quiet, all eyes focused on the screen which currently has Harry on P3 in the leaderboard. I couldn’t really focus on whatever the hell Will was specifying to Harry on the comms about the last part of their strategy, all I could focus on is the determination that coated his voice on every ‘confirm’ ‘confirm’ that Harry answered with.

I don’t even know how it exactly happened, but one minute all of us in the garage were holding hands waiting for drivers to pass the finish line, and the next second everyone was jumping out of their seats and screaming at the top of their lungs in complete jubilation. 

Harry Styles just crossed the checkered flag in P3. He reached the finish line in third.

“P3, mate! That’s your first podium this season!” 

Will’s announcement was the home run hit that I needed to fully comprehend what just occurred. And when I did, I joined Harry’s scream of unadulterated euphoria mixed with mine. “Winning performance!” He shouted for everyone watching to hear, “Winning fucking performance!”

“Ditto, ditto!” I screamed back like a lunatic, as if Harry could actually hear me. I had no time to feel embarrassed though, since I was blissfully pulled to the jubilant arms of one team member to the other. So many loving words were exchanged for our driver’s achievement that I didn’t even notice most of them started to make their way to watch the podium celebration.

Knowing how this win meant a lot for Harry as a driver, and how he was especially driving there for his entire team, I knew I couldn’t miss witnessing the grand celebration. So without care of still having my McLaren headset around my neck, I followed the flocks of people coming from different teams towards the podium viewing section. I knew it would already be packed by the time I arrived, having both the Red Bull of Niall and Louis as P1 and P2. But I genuinely didn’t care about the success of my previous die-hard allegiance. I just zeroed my attention in watching all the orange happy crowd from afar, waiting for their Golden Boy to stand on the podium.

I was honestly content at my position in the sidelines of the main crowd, because I knew Harry would rather share this grand victory with his team first and I’ll just congratulate him later in our own alone time. If he actually had his way, I’m pretty sure Harry would have preferred to have his entire team stand in the podium and he’ll be the one watching them celebrate from below the stands.

But I guess I could be proven wrong about all that because suddenly, I hear the distinct voice of Harry’s big boss amongst the chaotic crowd of other teams celebrating. “Move away, move away! Jesus Christ, I said move the fuck away!”

I watched in amusement as James Corden physically used his arms and legs to push people out of his way. “I swear to God I pay all of you to listen to me! Why can’t all of you move the fuck away?! I have a person to find! Where is she?! Why did you guys leave her, you absolute morons?! No one’s getting gelato from me after this!”

James’ heated words and animated display of comedic irritation, definitely captured everyone’s attention. The other team’s heads turned with their bodies clearing a path for him to pass, much to his favor. “Thank you, thank you! Looks like the Red Bull staff will be the ones receiving some gelato from me because they actually listened to my pleas.” He turned his head sidewards to his snorting McLaren team. “You bunch are about to get drowned in champagne once Harry finds out you left his girl alone in the garage. Enjoy all that while I actually be the kind and responsible man that I am - unlike you lot! - and I will look for Sophia. I hope Harry throws the entire glass bottle your way, fuckers!”

To say that I was shocked, was a complete understatement of what I genuinely felt. That entire rambunctious ruckus was all because Harry’s seemingly insane boss thought I was missing the podium celebration. And that it was going to be a total violation of some-sort, that warrants Harry to commit a crime of drowning his team in champagne. I honestly did not know how to react.

I guess that’s how James found me in the sidelines: eyes wide, mouth agape, body unmoving. “Oh, you poor sweet girl.” I heard him say as softly as his naturally loud voice could go. “You must be scared out of your life being left to your own devices at the garage by those brute men of mine.”

I couldn’t really utter a rebuttal to his very wrong claim as James quickly placed his arm around my shoulder and walked the two of us in the middle of the crowd towards the huddle of the McLaren team. “Don’t you worry about a single thing, Soph.” James assured me with an innocent smile I didn’t know if I trusted. “I’ll make sure you’d be at the front of the barriers to watch Harry descend the podium. Just keep calm here beside me for a moment.” And then he proceeds to do something that made me want to be the one to tell him that he should be the one to keep his calm. 

James cleared his throat loudly, hands coming around the circumference of his mouth for his voice to echo. “Yo dipshits! Move your idiot bums to the side and let Sophia pass!” I felt heat crawl up my cheek, and not in the fluttery way that my Bunny’s words do to me. “Oh, don’t give me those confused looks! You guys don’t know who I’m talking about? Well no shit because all you foolish lot left the most important person in the garage!”

And because my sudden embarrassment couldn’t get any worse, James placed me in front of him so everyone had a prime view on who he was screaming about. “So let me get this straight, you daft twats! The lovely woman here in front of me is Sophia. She’s the sole reason why our boy Styles got a podium today! I don’t know what the fuck she did to accomplish that - because our car is still performing like a bloody orange tractor in the grid - but she did it! And since I want her to keep fucking doing what she’s doing because my team is going to annihilate every single other team here in the grid, the least we can do is give her the front view of the champagne celebration. Was everything about that clear?!”

How can anyone in the entire pitlane - better yet the entire parts of the world currently watching this live telecast -  not get that clear? I assumed James also had the same answer since his proud smile of being more than heard, is the last thing I saw before he carefully pushed me to the front of the orange pack.

That led me to directly rest my front on the barriers, with my head raised above to watch the podium celebration take place. At that point, I was honestly too winded to care about the scene that James had caused. His actions were coming from a good heart, and that’s all that mattered to me in the end. Besides, I am now blessed with the best seat in the house, having the perfect view of Harry’s glorious entrance - jumping up and down pointing at his cheering team - when he proceeded to stand on the podium after his name was announced.

There wasn’t anything else to do than to cheer my little heart out when Harry raised his third-place trophy above his head, his blinding smile matching everyone’s in our orange team. I didn’t even care when my face was flashed on the big screen for everyone to watch, with my face-splitting grin and starry eyes pointed at a single individual standing so tall and carefree on that podium.

All I gave a damn about is the moment I felt the earth tremble beneath my feet. When all the triumphant cheers and exclamations around me seemed to disappear into the wind. All my being was centered on the emerald gems staring back at me for the first time since this race concluded. 

I’m wholly enthralled at the way his powerful stare remained on mine the entire time he jumped three feet of the platform to pop his bottle of champagne. The finesse he displayed on expertly spraying every celebratory grin with those drops of hard-earned champagne, made me see the true World Champion he’s nurturing inside him.

My baby was born to be on that podium. What I don’t understand is how in that same truth, Harry Styles peered down at me like he wanted no one beside him and his trophy and champagne celebrating that win, other than me. Seeing that kind of truth illuminated in his eyes, for only me to see, is world tilting, earth shattering.

“Come here.” Harry mouthed down at me; his high-on-a-win smirking face is a novel danger I’m quickly recognizing I have no power to avoid. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to be on that podium while the celebration was very much still on-going. But I still ran towards the stairs leading up to him, like an idiot who took the antidote to giving any single fucks.

When I reached the top, my head was thrown back in laughter when both Niall and Louis looked at me approvingly while they joyously clapped their hands at my violation of FIA Regulations. Like the total lovable idiots that they are, both Red Bull drivers made a clear show of moving to the sides, with their hands motioning for a pathway towards my destination.

“After you, my old number one fan.” Niall winked at me as I flipped him the finger for being a cheeky shit. I don’t understand how I was able to muster the audacity to do that to my old Irish idol now turned great friend, let alone in front of national television who is still streaming this entire interaction live.

But when I heard the voice of my favorite person in the world, calling me the name that has slowly yet surely became my favorite word in the entire English vocabulary, I knew it didn’t matter if I found the answers to those questions or not. 

What mattered is how we met in the middle, closing the offending distance that separated the two of us from being flushed-closed together. My arms curved their way behind his neck, just in time as he held me tight on my waist before dipping me down a few inches above the raised platform like we were at the end of a dramatic dance sequence. Clearly, we weren’t. But he still captured my lips in a dreamy kiss as if we were. 

Everything made me feel like I was suspended in time, stuck in a magical moment straight out of one of my dreams. From the way Harry’s ardent lips held mine in a spellbinding hold, to the cool stream of champagne our friends showered us in. If it weren’t for the contagious laugh Harry let out as he moved my body in a standing position, I would have really thought I was only hugging him this tight in my dreams.

“Congratulations, Golden Boy.” I reached on my tippy toes and kissed his impressive jawline, the taste of sparkling champagne coated my tongue. “I knew you had it in you.”

He bent a bit so he could meet my height in the middle perfectly, my favorite hands coming up to cradle my never-getting-tired-from-smiling-around-this-man face. “Winning performance.”

“Winning fucking performance.” I repeated his own rendition at the comms from earlier. He lovingly crushed my face on his champagne-soaked race suit, the vibration coming from his laughter was a calming feeling I felt against my position on his chest.

I let him leave as many kisses as he wanted on my temples, grinning up at him when I felt all of it electrify me. “So, why did you call me up here? Did you want to hang out or something?”

Harry’s giggles followed the sweet path the tip of his nose traveled, all the way from my nose and down to my chin, “Yeah, kind of. Something like that.” His adorable giggles easily blocked away all the noise from around us.

“What? You have to be more specific than that,” I moved my head away from his chest so I could look at him perfectly. My right hand naturally came up to brush away his sweat and champagne-soaked curls away from his pretty eyes. “You know how I feel about being ordered around.”

Harry rewarded me with a dimpled smile, “You love them.” He knows I do, and he also knows he’s got more to tell me than just that. I let him close his eyes, forehead dropping to rest on mine, and I kissed his tantalizing long lashes as I waited for his genuine words to flow.

“I knew I just won today, and I’m happy for my drive and that the team’s efforts are finally being acknowledged the way it’s supposed to be. It’s more than great to celebrate this win with them, for them, but I’d honestly rather do something else.”

I nuzzled my nose at his cute one, “Like what, Bunny?” And just like that moment in his driver’s room from earlier, Harry and I opened our eyes at the exact same time without prompt.

“I think I'd love to spend the rest of my sunsets with you.”

Somehow his response doesn’t surprise me, not when his angelic face is being framed by the beginnings of a majestic Imola sunset. I couldn’t possibly look away at how breathtaking he is being surrounded by so much orange warmth. “Sunset, huh? Seems to be our thing.”

Harry blessed me with his giggles once more, bending down to pepper my neck with small kisses that had my toes curling. “Yup. That’s why it’s my second favorite thing in the world right after you.”

“Really?” I asked incredulously even if I shared the same reality. Harry nodded his head, nose content in inhaling my scent and nuzzling the wet skin of my neck. His curls tickled a response right out of my lips. “You know I’d let you, yeah?”

That made Harry depart from his hiding spot, head tilting as he regarded me with a look that spoke words of fascination. “Every single one of your sunsets you’d spend with me?”

I found it absolutely adorable how he wanted to make sure of the fact so fiercely. “Yeah.” I nodded, fearlessly. “From now on, I’d love to share my sunsets with you. Including this one right behind you.”

And because I’m starting to believe that a post-win Harry is a person that is set on the highest degree to make me feel like I’m the only person who matters, I only have the ability to squawk in surprise as he disregards the gawking stares and regaled laughter of our audience, easily picking me up behind my thighs to wrap my legs around him. He began spinning us around like an F1 car doing donuts on the track; it’s dizzying as much as it fuels me with so much happiness that I could only hope to experience.

I’m so out of breath for feeling so alive that I didn’t even register that Harry began carrying me down the stairs in the same front piggy-back ride. “Hey! Bunny, where are you taking me?”

He didn't decrease the speed of his walk as he replied. “I’m chasing the sunset with you. Where else am I going to take you with me?” It almost looked like he took an actual offense to my question, which made me have actual tears of absolute glee stream down my face as my body shook with laughter in his hold. All these bubbling emotions have clearly overwhelmed me enough.

“This is not funny.” He whined which only increased my amusement.

“Is too! Bunny, the sunset isn’t going to disappear. Can you please put me down so we can walk together, comfortably, to wherever you want to watch the sunset?”

“No. I want you like this in my arms.” That made me snicker.

“I do too. But you seriously need to put me down cause I need to go somewhere first.”

That actually made him slow down. “What? Where do you need to go?” I only need to hear the whine in his tone to visualize the matching pout and frown he was certainly sporting.

“I need to get my purse. I left it in your driver’s room. You know, the yellow one?”

To my surprise, Harry Styles actually groaned for everyone in the pitlane to hear as he stopped from walking any further. He made a real show of looking absolutely pained when he gently dropped me down on my feet. “Why do you look like you need to shit?”

My teasing words only made him look even more adorable to my eyes like a grumpy cat. “I don’t need to shit. I’m just really annoyed that your bloody handbag is ruining the perfect sequence of our summer love story.”

“Excuse me?” I don’t know if I should laugh or be concerned because my Bunny looked quite disappointed, like he didn’t just come from the glory of a P3 win.

“Sunflower, our summer love story? The one we’ll be telling Angie and your family over dinner sometime?” 

“Okay. What about it?” Harry gave me a look as if asking if I was being serious. But before I could offer a rebuttal, he’s off rambling like the annoyed cutey little Bunny that he is.

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up in the air like the exasperated drama queen that’s always hiding inside him, “The fact that I have this sheer romantic vision of the continuity of our love story, where you were the reason why I won my first podium this season, and then we became all bad ass and broke the FIA rules together like total partners in crime as I kissed you on top of the podium where everyone was watching and spraying champagne at us. And can I just say that the kiss from earlier was absolutely a rom-com movie spot-on? I didn’t even have to think about it! It just came to me naturally just like how my innate romantic soul is telling me to carry you away in my arms towards the sunset after such a cathartic race weekend. But no! Your yellow handbag - no matter how much it’s my favorite on you - is ruining the sequence of our summer love story! How can we now beat your nonna and nonno’s epic Italian romance back in ‘66?! He gave her his gelato! I can’t do that because I’m a caveman with my desserts! The least I can do is buy you two gelatos when we watch the sunset, but of course that I can’t even do becau-”

I jumped into his arms like a koala climbing up a tree, his strong arms easily bracketing my legs that wrapped around his waist. All the while, I made myself busy by crashing my lips into his as I felt the most potent kind of certainty flow into my veins.

Somewhere in the start or middle or end of Harry’s rambling, I found myself being hit by a force of a rocket ship that rocked my entire core, screaming: this is it. This is the one for you. Go ahead and say the words to get your adorable man-child under lock and key.

So that’s what I did, I imprinted the words straight to his lips. “I love you.” Our eyes locked without a tinge of shock, it’s only filled with that kind of serenity and contentment that’s special to our bond. “How’s that for an epic sequence to our summer love story?”

His vibrant kiss could tell me just as much, “I love you too.” But hearing him say it back still made me smile like a mad fool in love - which I am!

And you know what, the way my Bunny began screaming his love for me for the entire world to hear right after he whispered it again and again in my ear, I know I’m not alone in being so in love one began acting insane.

Harry and I are together on this ride towards our countless sunsets. We’ll keep driving just as insanely as we love.

🧡🏎️🧡

COMING SOON: Should Bunny Keep Driving?

🐇🐇🐇

There’s a lot to be said about my profession as a Formula 1 driver. Many would say I’m living the bachelor dream: driving fast cars on most weekends of the year, with money and women free-flowing my way like every drop of champagne being popped on the podium. Some - like my sweet dear mother - would prefer to call me as a reckless adrenaline junkie: being strapped on a death vehicle for a living is worth no benefit; surely an occupation only lunatics will take. All other versions of such claims I have heard, but one I haven’t is the assumption that Formula 1 drivers are inept in basic navigation.

Well thank fuck no tabloid or social media post has said anything about that, or there’s no denying I would be the laughing butt of the joke for the rest of this season. I could already picture it, in bold and underlined letters: ‘Harry Styles, McLaren F1 team’s Golden boy is found lost in the streets of Italy. Can he make it back in time for the Imola Grand Prix?’

Well looking at the way the doors of my bright orange vehicle had remained stuck towards the roof, there’s no telling that I can actually make it to free practice tomorrow. All I had wanted was to have this day off from any racing obligation, to enjoy the brightness of Emilia Romania, Italy even for just this single day. 

What had I told my teammate Nick Grimshaw when I turned down his idea of golfing to make plans for my own today? Oh, that I ‘wanted to get lost in the beauty of an Italian summer’ Now isn’t that bloody fucking ironic as I’m standing here under the heat of the blazing Italian summer sun, my too hightech for my own good sportscar failing me in God knows where when all I wanted was to go to this specific beach where I can sit on the smooth sand and peacefully watch the sunset.

“So much for spending billions on car upgrades,” I walked my way back into the interior of the car, trying my best to figure out what was wrong with the technological system that had caused the engine to stop at the side of this random Italian street. 

I’m not one to feel regret on a daily basis, choosing to believe that everyone should be kinder to themselves and giving yourself a hard time for something that occurred in the past won’t help anything. Well in this scenario, I can’t help but feel even just a smidge of regret when James Corden, McLaren’s CEO, my friend and ultimately my boss, had first offered me to use a vintage McLaren on my solo Italian trip today. Knowing how much of a grandpa I can be with today’s rapid technological development, I feel like an absolute bloody idiot for not agreeing to that and instead chose this green energy-powered vehicle that looks more like a worthless pile of steel and metal.

Realizing that my lack of knowledge with advanced cars had not been strengthened in the gap between this morning and right now, I sighed for the nth time this afternoon and stepped-out of the car once more. Standing at the side of the street, I tilted my head to look at the immaculate crimson and yellow Italian homes, noticing in dismay that it’s backdrop of the sun will start to set in about an hour from now.

With nothing left to do but actually call for help, I tried to reason with my stubborn and prideful self that calling for the towing company does not negatively affect my competency as a racing driver. Only that it does, I know deep inside that even just a tiny bit, it does say something about my lack of initiative in furthering my knowledge in my field. But I know that situation needs to be rectified after I get myself out of this current dilemma.

“Harry, you’re no good alone.” I found myself saying to no one in particular but myself, definitely learning a thing or two about acceptance of your flaws from my older sister. So with those words of conviction physically ringing in my ears, I pulled out my phone ready to make the dreaded call of defeat.

Except she arrived just in time to halt my actions.

She, being a blonde girl about my age, riding a bike while singing along to some pop song I heard my friend Niall singing in the shower that one time we flew over together for the Monaco Grand Prix. But it’s not that particular song that had ceased my movements, it’s her bright yellow bag slung to her shoulder, the color a perfect match to the colorful bikini top she was wearing under some denim dungarees. And under the rays of the Italian sun, she just looked so golden.

I don’t know how long I had stood there like a fool just staring at her glowing presence, but I was brought back to my wits when the music stopped playing. In a blink, I noticed that the girl had halted her bike just in-front of my broken down car, frowning in my direction.

“Hey, are you okay?” She called out, even her voice sounding so bright in my ears I’m starting to wonder if this woman is sunshine personified.

“I’m good.” was my reply like the aforementioned damn fool that I was that not only didn’t know how to operate the newest models of sports cars, but apparently I also can’t find my words when talking to gorgeous and kind strangers.

She didn’t seem to believe my words, head tilted in curiosity, she side-stepped from the seat of her bike and walked to stand in front of me at the side of the street. With about two feet separating us, she placed both of her hands on her waist.

“I’m pretty sure we’re both British considering your accent,” she offered me a kind smile, “and back from where I’m from in England, people standing on the side of the barest of streets with an open car a few feet away from them usually doesn’t mean the person is doing well. But that’s just me,” she shrugged, “I don’t know how things are from your part of England.”

Call me entitled or jaded, but it’s been a long time that someone had been at ease or even just possessed the confidence to tease me. So long in fact that I let out a snort from her words, followed directly after by a bubble of laughter that has got me bent in half with my hands placed on my knees for support. All the while, this funny lady continued to stand just a few feet away from me like my absolute out-of-the-blue guffawing hadn’t altered her that I was nuts.

“You’re definitely not okay then,” confirming my belief, she chuckles along in my sudden fit of insanity.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” I straightened up remembering my manners. “It’s just been a long time since I heard something that funny at my expense and said directly to my face. And, it’s just been a long day.” My eyes travel unwillingly to my hopeless vehicle, a sigh leaving my smiling lips upon also remembering the task I was supposed to do.

I noticed her own eyes following the trail of my own, her whistle of appreciation to what she saw is not lost in my ears. “You’re definitely having a long day if you got this baby to cruise around Italy with.”

Sounds to me like she's a car enthusiast. And why that interests me, I don’t know. “Not long enough I believe since the baby stopped here and barely even crawled.”

My humor somehow landed on her, the sides of her lips curving when she looked back at me. “You’re quite funny,” the sincerity in her tone made me return her smile. “And I’m not just saying that because you just laughed like you were losing it a few seconds back. But what I find way more hilarious is how a McLaren racing driver like yourself, gets stuck in the middle of nowhere-Imola like you don’t know how to operate the newest release of your company’s top of the line sportscar line.”

So she knew who I was…of course she knew who I was if I decided to parade around Imola in the bright orange monstrosity of a car while wearing my infamous bright colored outfits complete with glitter details of an embroidered strawberry on the breast of my Gucci tee. It’s not the first nor last time people recognized me randomly on international streets, but it surely is a novel occurrence for me to feel bashful under her knowing gaze.

I shrugged my shoulders, feeling my ears pinken at realizing she knew who I was under this current unfavorable circumstance. “I wish I could say my mechanical skills in fixing cars came as natural as my humor does; but I am afraid I’m just a useless F1 racing driver who only operates on adrenaline.”

The woman curved a brow in amusement, “And you don’t have that right now because your car stopped working?”

“Exactly!” I pointed at her like I can’t believe she understood my words, “The car isn’t moving so I don’t have adrenaline to properly function like a human being. I’m basically a damsel in distress right now just waiting for my pit crew to come rescue me.”

And as if a shining personality isn’t enough to blind me, the girl surprises me when she suggests the unthinkable: “Then let’s fix it! What’s exactly broken so we know what to target?” and then she began to point-out different parts of the car that only true car enthusiasts take time to know about. Well I guess that answers my earlier question if she was into cars, but that doesn’t really help anything when she lost me at her first suggestion.

She probably noticed I remained standing there looking at her like she was speaking a different language, because she stopped in the middle of her sentence and gave me her own bashful look this time. “I’m sorry, I probably creeped you out just rambling like that without introducing myself. I’m Sophia, by the way.”

Mesmerized by her character, I met her outstretched palm and returned her fairly firm shake. “I’m Harry, nice to meet you, Sophia.” 

“You too,” she nodded, “it’s great to meet you too, I mean. I know we don’t really know each other but I was serious about helping you fix your car.”

And I don’t know what it is in my gut that told me she really meant her word, but the women in my life had always told me to trust my intuition, and my intuition is telling me to accept Sophia’s unbridled kindness. “And I was also being truthful that I don’t know my way around these high-tech cars unlike I do with vintage ones. So, I can’t really answer your list of questions earlier, but feel free to check the car out yourself.”

I watched as Sophia just stood there mimicking my static stance from earlier, my words seeming not to register in her mind like I thought it would. “Are you serious?” she asked, her blue orbs widening when I nodded my head with conviction.

“This baby is all yours.” I motioned with my hands for her to enter the car, my grin of fondness making its reappearance when Sophia let out a squeal of uncontained excitement as she entered the vehicle. I followed right after her when she called for my name. Based solely on my intuition and her earlier encyclopedia worthy car knowledge, I was fully content to give her full reins to analyze the problem. But when she turned to look at me from her position at the driver’s seat, still asking for my help, I nodded without a second thought.

In my defense, she said the word ‘please’, a pout I’ve come to alarmingly realize I couldn’t resist painted on her lips. That two on Sophia is a lethal combo; I just knew straight ahead that if she used that more frequently around me, I was done for and she can basically get anything she wants from me.

Something tells me Sophia isn’t that type of person to take advantage of others though. Not in the way she patiently asked me questions about the car, questions that were genuinely similar to those my mechanics have asked me during race debriefs. And call me a narcissist all you want but this occupation of mine with all its glitz and glamorous perks, also comes with undeniable faults that a regular person with a nine-to-five job won’t probably bear to understand.

Not once did Sophia deter our conversation with anything else than strictly being the possible ailments of my car. If it was anyone else in her position with less than good intentions that she clearly exhibits, I’d for sure be feeling extremely uncomfortable right now. It’s very rare for strangers to not have any ulterior motives when it comes to interacting with me, and my usually guarded heart feels a sense of relief that Sophia seems to be one of the very few that I can learn to trust. But hey, I am a Formula 1 driver who rides spaceship-like vehicles that operate on 300 kmph on the regular, who says I’m still right on the head with my perception of reality?

I’m learning to trust humanity more though. My mum and Gem had made it pretty clear that my happiness on the outside and guarded on the inside persona will just make me lonely in the long-run, I needed a companion in life like the both of them had found in their partners. And to be honest, I’m done feeling like a lone wolf too, that’s why at the start of this year’s season I had made a personal vow to actually commit in allowing myself to trust the dark and bleak society I have come to be wary of. It would allow me to find the genuine ones no matter how miniscule they may come nowadays.

So I’m officially calling this interaction with Sophia as me trying; trying to connect with new people while using a pair of fresh eyes that hold no judgment. There’s nothing wrong with befriending beautiful strangers in a random street somewhere in Imola, especially if they’re here acting as my knight in shining yellow handbag. 

“I suggest we don’t touch anything.” Sophia let out after her whole list-down of questions she asked me about the possible problems of my car.

“What?” I was stunned at her change of perspective, my brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean let’s not touch anything? It seems to me seconds ago that you know your way with cars much more than me, or any of the current drivers on the grid.”

My statement made her giggle, the crinkles of her eyes catching my gaze like the sound of her laugh isn’t adorable enough to attract all my attention. “I’d take that as a compliment since you seem like an honest person. But regardless of how much of a car encyclopedia I am, that still doesn’t qualify me from actually breaking apart this bloody expensive car.”

“Then why’d you ask me all those things then?”

“Maybe because I wanted to see for myself if you’re really a racer who knows no shit about cars or you were just waiting to impress me with all your overflowing knowledge about it like a stereotypical testosterone-ego filled motorsport driver.”

I snorted unattractively, enthralled by her honest words despite its teasing tone. “I hope I didn’t disappoint then that I’m not your typical racing driver, that I’m really just a big fraud of my kind who’s basically a big disgrace in our industry since I know close to nothing about the thing that makes my job work in the first place.”

I don’t know what kind of reaction I was waiting for, but it certainly wasn’t her loud laughter echoing around the quiet Italian street, nor the way her hand had comfortably, almost mindlessly pushed me lightly on my shoulders like it’s for her own good that I should stop making these jokes about myself. I liked it though, her reaction. Far too much.

“Well I’m hoping this isn’t your attempt at running away from the Imola grand prix this weekend considering I don’t think you’re that bad of a driver regardless if you don’t know how to properly fix one.” Sophia proceeded to give me a carefree smile, as if she hadn’t just complimented me for the first time.

And how I felt like preening at noting such a random thing, I have no idea. It seems to be the overall theme for my afternoon. “Sadly, no. My boss wouldn’t have lent me this car if he had heard any inklings that I was going rogue for an Italian holiday, no matter how lovely that sounds now.”

I saw the interest flash in her eyes after that, “So if you’re not on the run from your racing obligations, then what’s so pressing you had to drive a car you barely know anything about?”

I didn’t see any harm in sharing my plans, especially when my current situation makes it seem more like canceled plans now that I’ll be able to accomplish the next time I visit Emilia Romania. I tried to keep my disappointment at the minimum when I told her.

“Nothing that special, actually. You see, today’s my only free day from any race or media stuff so I just wanted to head to this specific beach and watch the sunset. Just to have some time for me, to be one with the peace and quiet of the ocean.”

I am unsure what she sees in my expression after I had said that, but one look at Sophia made me believe I did a piss poor job at concealing displeasure. A frown is etched on her forehead, corners of her lips turned downwards, her eyes wide with sympathy dancing in her irises.

That look on her face stunned me on my seat once again. I decided that I wanted to remove that saddened look on her face, her face that should always be full of life and brightness like the sunshine that she is. But more importantly, what had gotten me dazed like an utter fool being hit unknowingly by cupid’s arrow is this sudden realization that had completely turned my perspective of this entire situation in another fucking direction.

How do you tell I woman you met barely an hour ago, a woman as charming, kind, honest, and simply compeling woman like Sophia, that I don’t give a single fuck about the sunset and the beach anymore when I’m content just staring at her pools of ocean blue? That her aura is enough and more to compete with a stunning Italian sunset?

But before I could even act more like a fool in front of her by trying to articulate those gobsmacking thoughts of pure sappiness and vulnerability all in one, Sophia beats me to it by asking me her own question.

“What’s your thoughts on just calling someone to fix your car? And while there doing that task, you and I head together to that beach you were keen to go to, watch the sunset, and even eat some gelato while doing all that. You game?”

*~*~*

Something is cooking...🧡🏎️

Bunny and the Wine Nights at Gemma's

Gemma Styles has a very special place in Sophia’s heart.

Aside from her parents (the people who raised her), flowers, (her babies that give her the utmost happiness), and red velvet cupcakes (the love of her life as it seems), Gemma holds the remaining good part of Sophia’s heart.

They had met in university, the two sharing the same flat building. Thoughts of that same flat always brings an unwelcome shiver in Sophia’s spine upon remembering how it was filled with outrageously smart and stuck-up teenagers who seemed to have never experienced a good time.

Sophia met Gemma one early afternoon, sitting at the common rooms while sipping on some wine.

She was shocked to see wine being drank that early, but was more-so perplexed at seeing someone actually using the common rooms when Sophia had only been alone in the same area weeks prior, never seeing a soul who wanted to join her lounge-about.

Sophia had thought the rest of her flatmates in the building were always cooped up in their room, painstakingly glued to their computers watching the British economy move up and down as their extremely odd form of entertainment.

With just that perception in common, Gemma and Sophia had hit it off that same day when Gemma had sighed in total relief for finally meeting someone aside from brainiacs that made her feel stupid. It had been another shared feeling between the two, making their first interaction go on swimmingly. Plus, Sophia and Gemma share the same love for wine which the latter said ran in their family making Sophia simply part of it now.

So how can Gemma not have a special place in Sophia’s heart when she said the sweetest thing ever to her in just a day of meeting?

It’s further proven how Gemma Styles is a true woman after Sophia’s heart when she met and matched every effort Sophia had exerted to continue building on their friendship all throughout their hectic days in uni. It’s a testament to their will-power and genuine love for each other with how they remained friends despite their clear differences.

Straight-out the bat, Gemma is the most strong-minded and blunt human being Sophia has ever met in her whole existence on earth. Every single one of their friends who had met them as best friends already, would always question how someone as sweet as Sophia would be close to Gemma who was constantly viewed as the most outspoken and unforgivingly forward in their small friend group.

Well, opposites attract, right? And honestly, there is just as much bluntness in Sophia as there is sweetness in Gemma. It only shows between the both of them and their innate, personal, closeness. The pair don’t see the need to show and justify to others why the two of them just work as best friends, and that none of their questioning will break that special bond they have.

Besides, Sophia could assure you that Gemma would be the sweetest and cuddliest little kitten whenever Sophia’s sad. At the same time, Sophia would gladly be the most strong-minded and unapologetic blunt mother hen whenever Gemma does something stupid like getting herself drunk with four bottle of wine in one single night just because of an idiot ex-boyfriend.

Now Sophia’s sweet nature is honesty not one for swearing but screw that stupid piece of poopy-headed exes because no woman should feel like they’re not enough for some boy.

Clearly, Gemma and Sophia balance each other out in an impeccable fashion and find themselves in a continuous tight-knit friendship even after graduating.

Gemma also happens to be a God sent in Sophia’s life for she was the one who had told Sophia about the open space for renting under the building of Gemma’s growing design firm. Together, the pair built Sophia’s flower shop with her own best friend as her interior designer. The perks of having an interior designer of a best friend who has her own firm just above the top of her own shop is something Sophia often felt grateful about.

Now you’d probably think that Sophia and Gemma know everything about each other at this point in life as successful business women. Considering the fact that Sophia was the first one to figure out Gemma was seeing someone just from the bubbly change in her demeanor, Sophia believes Gemma and her have an excellent grasp on each other’s everything much to Gemma’s dismay of wanting a grand reveal for her now serious boyfriend, Michal.

He’s a good guy and a truly brilliant choice, in Sophia’s opinion.

What’s not good however is her realization that there are still lingering little things that she might not know about her best friend.

Like the fact that Gemma wants to set Sophia up with her younger brother.

That uncanny thought began on an ordinary day, Sophia had arrived bright and early in her flower shop harnessing some energy from the beautiful sunny morning to get a head start on their pending flower arrangements.

Not a lot of customers were present that early in the day as the shop had only opened, nor have Sophia’s three lovely employees arrived yet. Sophia contently basked in the silence of the shop as she felt happiness bloom in her chest being surrounded by the sweet aromas of her flower babies she was arranging into several bouquets.

At exactly nine AM, Sophia hears the bell ring which signaled someone’s arrival. Based on the little chuckles Sophia heard, it made her believe that there are two of them and not one.

“Well isn’t this quite an early morning for a lovely visitor?” Sophia said, smiling at both girls who stood in front of the counter.

“That’s what I was telling her boss,” Lena, one of Sophia’s employees said, making her way inside the shop to settle her things on a table, “I was honestly shocked Apple is alive at this early hour of the day. Doesn’t Gemma charge you up with electricity at this time so that you’re up all night later making a ruckus upstairs?”

Sophia tried to prevent a giggle spilling from her lips but Apple’s unamused face paired with a classic eye roll had no chance of fighting the giggles.

“As much as I’d like to favor you with your jesting Lena, it really is an ungodly hour for even anyone to be up this early.” Apple said tiredly, sipping on her cup of coffee like it’s the only thing that was sustaining her that moment.

“But you’re actually quite wrong,” Apple continued, resting her bag on the counter where Sophia had her unfinished bouquets spread about. “Gemma, my ever-hard working boss, is actually the one charging herself for the day and instead tasked me to come here and do her errands.

This time, Sophia does not even attempt to keep the laugh from leaving her lips. Too many amusing memories of waking-up a zombie-like sleeping Gemma is stored in Sophia’s mind to never not find it funny.

“That does sound a lot like Gemma.” Sophia chuckled fondly, “Well at least it does show that you are indeed an ever-understanding right hand in command, right Apple?”

Lena laughs from behind her boss while Gemma’s assistant only beamed with a small smile gracing her lips from the compliment.

“Yeah, I guess.” Apple shrugged almost bashfully, “But it just does not add up how my boss’ best friend,” she gestured to Sophia’s whole form, “is still bright and cheery at this time of the day, when my boss on the other hand sounded like she was dying when she called me this morning.”

“That’s because I got the better boss.” Lena popped up beside Sophia, teasing, “I got the kinder one out of the two.” which got the three ladies laughing.

“I may be kind,” Sophia regarded the two, “but I’m not naive for all this flowery compliments in return of asking something like an early closing this Friday so you lot can go out and party like irresponsible, wild animals or other requests in that line.” Sophia quirked a knowing eyebrow at Lena who only smiled sheepishly in reply.

Sophia turned her attention back on Apple who was now sticking her tongue out teasingly at her employee. Realizing that Sophia was smiling at her and waiting for whatever Gemma had instructed her to get, Apple snapped back into focus.

“Oh yeah! I was actually here to do Gemma’s errands, totally forgot, sorry.” Apple chuckled lightly, soothing her weary state by taking another sip of her liquid sunshine before rummaging in her purse for her phone and a small letter.

Apple then began to read on her phone the orders of flowers needed by later afternoon, as well as the other arrangements for another pick-up time. All those, Sophia diligently took note of on her work Ipad.

“Gemma also said something about ‘a bouquet of the special Friday night roses’ which I actually asked what that special is since I don’t think I’ve ever come across that in your shop. But she just replied with incoherent words that sounded like she was dying. But I would assume you already know what kind of special roses she’s asking for?”

Sophia hums in agreement, features etched with an amused glow for definitely knowing what those are as she typed it down on a separate order form.

“Is that all?” Sophia asked, giggling at the sleepy Apple who chugged the remains of her coffee.

Apple nodded her head in answer. Sophia made her way to leave the spot behind the counter and lead her friend out of the shop. She was about to wish her a good day ahead when Apple suddenly held her right arm, seemingly remembering something important.

“Bloody hell, I almost forgot.” Apple said with a little grimace, “This one's for you from my not-so-lovely-in-the-mornings boss.” and she handed Sophia the small letter she was holding earlier.

Before Sophia can even ask if she knew what it was for, Apple quickly rushed out of the flower shop while exclaiming her pleasantries and something about needing more caffeine in her system.

Feeling slightly bad for the unfortunate situations people that are not happy-early morning risers as her have to face, Sophia went ahead and returned behind the counter to open the letter.

It was sealed by Gemma’s signature stamp with the initials G.S in crimson red. As expected, the special Friday night roses will not be put to waste.

Dear Sophia Ford,

My ever sweet and kind best friend, my other half in life (don’t tell Michal), and the most beautiful flower in a field of multicolored roses, I am pleased to invite you for a very special Wine Nights at Gemma’s.

Now I know your pretty little head would be wondering why is it ‘special’, well it’s because it would only be you, myself (the wonderful host) and Michal. Again, I know your little smarty pants would say something in the lines of ‘What’s so special about that when we pretty much do that on a regular?’ well prepare to be outsmarted.

You see, there is a very special occasion coming soon that has made me assemble a special wine night this Friday for further discussion. Not to spoil anything, but I pretty much need you for something really important and special to me, thus I am inviting you to a noteworthy (and top secret, mind you) wine night.

Since you are my favorite person in life, you do not need to RSVP anything. I simply expect you at mu house at exactly 7:30 PM on Friday without any single second thoughts lingering in your mind.

Now prepare those special roses that I want for Friday. I only want the freshest of them all to grace my home.

And lastly, please bring an open mind this Friday; that’s way more essential than the bloody wine actually.

Love,

Gemma Styles

Your bestest girl pal for life! 💖

(P.S. Just to appease your soul, YES. There will be red velvet cupcakes present on the menu just for you.)

And that last line is literally the only thing Sophia needed to know before she’s booking her Friday night free from any other plans. Her love for red velvet cupcakes was unlocked due to Gemma Styles’ own recipe that Sophia has yet to find anything that rivaled it in any capacity. It’s simply the best, so Sophia would gladly attend Gemma’s special (odd) wine night that Friday.

When Friday came around, Sophia made the drive to Gemma’s in a no-brainer fashion. She pretty much memorized the way going there and could probably navigate it while asleep after countless times of visiting her best friend. Now though, Gemma has moved to the bigger house beside her old place when Michal and her became really serious and decided to move-in together.

Sophia hoped she could be lucky in that department too. That Gemma doesn’t have to memorize a new way of going to Sophia’s home because Sophia has just moved in with her beau at the house next door. The only problem is that her beau is actually non-existent, and the house beside her current flat building was already sold. Way to ruin a girl’s hopes, yeah?

Despite their often solo wine nights of just the three of them, Sophia is quite sure that there was something oddly different when she parked inside the couple’s gated house and did not see the lights of the pool patio to be on. They usually have their special wine nights lounging near the pool area enjoying the cool late night air. But this time around, it seemed like the little countertop bar at the couple’s kitchen would be the chosen destination.

Sophia walked to the front door which was surprisingly open already. Gemma standing behind it in a similar knitted cable jumper that Sophia was wearing.

“Hey love, good to have you tonight.” Gemma greeted her, giving Sophia their usual tight hug and kiss on the cheeks whenever they saw each other.

“Hello yourself.” Sophia returned, detangling from their hug. “Why are you being weird?” she asked straight-away after seeing Gemma’s unusual fidgeting of her hands and her odd manner of greeting. Mind you, they don’t do ‘good to have you tonight’ like some posh people who only see each other once every three months in fancy dinners.

The two of them are more like, ‘Hey love, get your pretty little bum inside and let’s flipping work these bottles of wine pretending we’re still young and hangovers are not real.’

“Huh? What are you saying?” Gemma replied in a tone of poor-concealed nerves, “I think you’re in need of wine because you’re the one being weird.” she dismissed with a small awkward laugh which made Sophia curve an eyebrow in question as she entered the house.

“Is your girl good?” Sophia asked Michal after he had greeted her with a hug, an amused smile painted on his face. “Or did she do something stupid again and that’s why she’s acting funny so I won’t notice?”

At that point, Gemma’s awkward laughter ringed even louder, leading the three of them to the surprisingly assembled dining table. Michal only offered Sophia a smirk, the one he does whenever he also thinks that his girlfriend is being quite crazy.

“Make yourself at home, Soph. You know that our home is just as much as your home too.” Gemma said in a rather rehearsed manner as Michal pulled out chairs for the two ladies.

There was no denying that Sophia began to be even more weirded out at the very strange energy Gemma was displaying, though decided to play along.

“Why that’s so sweet of you Gem. Mind if I help myself with dinner? Haven’t had one yet and I’m already quite peckish.” Sophia asked, offering her usual pearly whites of angelic innocence.

Sophia’s suspicion arose when she noticed Gemma exhale a breath for a tiny second, like she was relieved that Sophia wasn’t seeing behind her act and gestured towards the food.

“Oh definitely! Actually, I even made your favorite tuna steak and the red velvet cupcakes to go with it.” Gemma’s words of honesty that signify she’s the cook between the two of them does not wash-out the brewing inkling on her mind.

“Well, aren’t you the most thoughtful best friend ever?” Sophia said almost sarcastically as she went ahead and filled her plate with food. “You mind if I pour myself some wine?” she further asked while gesturing at the unopened bottle of red on the table,

Without even blinking, Gemma nodded her head frantically in a yes, her non-verbal answer enough to appalled Sophia in her seat.

“Gemma!” Sophia shrieked, completely astounded, “What the flicking furball is wrong with you?!”

The girl in question just dropped her mouth in shock, clearly caught in her dubious actions as Gemma tried to find back her words.

“W-what are you talking a-about?” Gemma stuttered before drinking (chugging more like) a whole glass of water.

“You don’t do that!” Sophia incredulously pointed out, “You don’t let me go ahead and devour the red velvet cupcakes without reprimanding me like some child whining for sugar. That's your exact words by the way.”

Michal laughed while Gemma remained speechless as Sophia continued on with an arched brow.

“And you never offer me the pleasantries crap that you did a while ago. You usually just drag me with you, talking about the new crystal you just bought while Michal just follows us looking lost.”

Gemma pretty much crumbed her own weird facade at Sophia’s outright interrogation.

“By the way, we never drink wine here at the dining table. You guys don’t even eat here.” Sophia pointed out, observing Gemma’s guilty face and Michal’s amused one. “Besides, you never let me pour my own wine at your own wine night, babe. Plus, you didn’t even ask for the special roses.”

Sophia took out the special roses from the little tote bag that she brought with her before standing up and placing it in the empty vase on the table.

Now you might be wondering what’s so special with these roses. Nothing really if you ask Sophia, it just so happens to be from the plot of roses that Gemma and her plant together at least every three months. Gemma always requests for these roses that she helped Sophia plant (although Gemma always takes full credit for nurturing them) and yup, Gemma was also responsible for calling it ‘special’ when they are just the same as the other roses Sophia had planted herself. But who was Sophia to burst Gemma’s bubble?

Gemma cleared her throat, can no longer escape the expectant look Sophia was throwing her way while the latter began slowly eating the feast on her plate. No matter how enlightening Gemma’s confession for her odd behavior might be, Sophia is not strong enough to resist the gorgeousness of her cupcake.

“I fucked that up, didn’t I?” Gemma asked no one in particular, chuckling sheepishly when the two others nodded enthusiastically in answer.

“Now Michal knows why you never made it to the annual uni Christmas play. You’re poop at acting.”

The three laugh at Sophia’s words of unfiltered honesty, the atmosphere in the dining room finally returning to their regular easy-going flow because it’s clear that Sophia isn’t mad at Gemma’s weird antics.

“I did warn her, believe me.” Michal said to Sophia, sparing a look at his embarrassed girlfriend. “I said that Soph would see right through what she calls full of fluffing crap and she might actually even start cussing if she finds out the reason you’re doing this for.”

Sophia’s interest piques at Michal’s words, brow arching at Gemma who’s eyes can’t meet her best friend’s back in return. But before Sophia can even question anything, Gemma rises from her seat and abruptly opens the discarded bottle of wine and generously pouring each of their glasses with the red liquid.

The three found themselves in their usual conversations. Gemma shares stories about the new high-rise buildings that have signed with her to be their sole interior designer for every unit, Michal being a vet and the new pets he had treated, and with Sophia sharing about her upcoming new arrangement techniques that she plans to try at her flower boutique.

Everything was flowing out smoothly, the three of them munched on their food (Sophia definitely took a detour to heaven with her first bite of Gemma’s red velvet cupcakes) and drank from their constant stream of wine. Laughs were shared with Michal and his misfortunate stories involving bunnies. Apparently, he chases about three hopping bunnies around his clinic, Gemma suggesting with a knowing smirk to hire Sophia part-time since she apparently has some ‘Snow White Voodoo’ thing going on that makes Sophia some sort of animal whisperer.

Sophia dismissed Gemma’s words with a chuckle, seeming to play it cool when in reality, Sophia is just waiting for her best friend to loosen-up some more before she begins to interrogate her once again. Sophia has her wits recharged and ready thanks to those scrumptious red velvet cupcakes that never fail to work in her favor.

By the time Sophia saw Gemma pouring her fourth glass of wine, she knew it was the perfect time to strike the question.

“So, what’s the real deal tonight?” Sophia asked, the current conversation taking to a halt, “I mean, why the bloody fluffball of going the lengths to arrange the dining table and inviting me to a ‘top secret’ wine night?”

As Sophia asked her questions, Gemma straight-away downs her entire glass filled with wine that was filled to the brim catching Sophia off-guard at her blatantly unusual action. The only time she’s seen Gemma drink that much in one go after three glasses already in, was when she was dealing with some serious misunderstanding with Michal. But that can’t be the case right now because Gemma’s boyfriend is completely laughing at her reckless move.

“You’re just getting bloody weirder by the second.” Sophia pointed out, tilting her own still half-way filled glass towards Gemma.

“That’s because I’m bloody nervous you twat!” Gemma suddenly exclaimed, her words ringing around the room making both Sophia and Michal almost choke on their drinks.

“Did you just call me a twat?!”

“Did you just call her a twat?!”

Michal and Sophia said at the same time, Gemma’s man with a tone of amusement, while Sophia’s voice was just plain appalled.

“Yes, that I did.” Gemma simply replied, pouring her fifth glass before focusing her undivided attention on Sophia, her unmistakable game face on making the latter quite concerned to be honest. “You know my family, right?”

Sophia almost felt offended on her seat. “Obviously! We’re flipping best girl pals, right?”

Michal still remains gleefully amused at Sophia’s reaction while Gemma facepalms her forehead like she didn’t mean to say it in that manner.

“Not what I intended to say, sorry babe.” Gemma quickly apologized, offering Sophia a small smile, albeit a nervous one.

If that doesn’t signal alarm bells, Sophia doesn’t know what more clues she needs before she starts panicking herself at whatever the furball Gemma is about to spring-out on her.

“Why are you getting nervous, Gems? It’s just me.” Sophia tried to deflect with a little chuckle.

“Yeah love, it’s just Soph.” Michal quips, the teasing tilt in his tone quite apparent as Gemma definitely did not find it funny at all.

“Shut it, you arse!” Gemma flips him the bird, making Sophia slightly comforted that there’s still that unabashed and blunt Gemma she has grown to love. “Remember in the letter, I said there is this upcoming special event?”

Sophia nodded her head in recognition, sipping on her third glass, “I do. Is that what’s getting you so panicky?”

Gemma does not provide a verbal response, instead giving Sophia a weird semblance of a smile that’s more of an uncomfortable grimace than a cheery one which Sophia has never been on the receiving end of before. Sophia looked to Michal alternatively to see if he could provide a better (frankly, less disturbing) answer.

“Kind of. It’s kind of because of that.” He answered, still not straight to the point for Sophia’s liking.

Sophia began to backtrack their conversation on the top of her head, trying to piece together something to better her understanding of her best friend’s unusual behavior. About a minute of her silence with the couple sipping - tensely for Gemma, and amused for Michal - on their wine, it clicked on her.

“Oh! Does the special event have something to do with your family, Gem?” A broad grin broke into Sophia’s face when Michal clapped his hand in confirmation, like she just answered that mathematical question from the final scene of Mean Girls.

“Bingo! You really are a smart one, Soph!” Michal complimented Sophia for some unknown reason before he turned his attention back on Gemma. “I feel like you’re stressing yourself over nothing, love. I think Soph might even figure out this special family event before you even gain the guts to just tell her.”

Sophia broke-out in boisterous laughter when Gemma replied to Michal by hitting him on the arm so strongly that it made him wince and cower in palpable fear when Gemma unrelentingly gave him eye daggers. Sophia swears they’re the most hilarious (and violent?) couple that she knew of.

“Gem, whatever it is babe, you know I’m always here ready to help.” Sophia assured, the sincerity in her tone successfully removed the nervous and jittery aura Gemma was still sporting, now being replaced with a smile of relief.

“Especially if it’s got anything to do with your family. I love Anne and Robin, you know that.”

Anne and Robin Twist are Gemma’s lovely parents. Sophia has come to learn that Robin, Gemma’s stepfather, was the closest thing anyone can go to being around a real Santa Claus. He was warm, loving, approachable, and just simply generous. Anne on the other hand, is Gemma’s older version, one that is fairly blunt, yet way more comfortable to show her sweet side compared to her daughter. Anne is a definite loving mother who goes beyond bounds for her children, Sophia can totally attest to that as Anne’s been like the second mum to her.

Sophia was able to meet them when they visited Gemma during their third year of university, the four of them had a lovely weekend exploring the city of London. After that, they were in constant communication and had found it a priority to meet each other every time Anne and Robin were in town, for they still preferred to live in Holmes Chapel up north. Sophia has yet to visit Gemma’s childhood home, but Anne and Robin have already made sure to give her an open invitation to their humble abode anytime she pleases to come.

“I know you do, and they love you a bunch too.” Gemma softly said, a glow of adoration present in her eyes. “That’s why I know you’re the perfect one for this.”

Sophia’s eyebrows slowly raised, unsure why her conventionally strong facade best friend is borderline getting emotional looking at that moment.

“Okay, so what exactly is this special event? A surprise for your parents, perhaps?” A tone of poorly-concealed excitement in Sophia’s voice, the couple chuckled at her reaction. “Holy cow! Are you buying them a rest house here in London and then we’re going to decorate it and surprise Anne and Robin?!”

Both Gemma and Michal straight-out laughed this time at Sophia’s exuberance, the latter avoided giving them a roll of her eyes because clearly, she was the only one fond of the idea of surprising and giving loved ones an extravagant treat.

“As much as I would love to do that and ask for your help, I d0n’t think I have enough money in my bank account to buy my parents a rest house here just yet. But hey, that’s on the bucket list of mine and you’ll be on my speed dial when that takes place.” Gemma said, that weird I’m-trying-to-smile-but-failing-miserably-with-a-grimace is back on once again.

Sophia honestly begins to get confused already as yet again, Gemma takes another big gulp of her wine like it’s simply water and not an alcoholic beverage. If Sophia was smart enough, she’s guessing Gemma is needing the liquid courage coming from the wine which is again, very very unlike her.

“Gem, just spill it already.” Sophia firmly said, knowing within herself that this exchange can go all night long and they’d all be too drunk to remember what the entire night was supposed to be for in the first place.

Gemma raised her pointer finger at Sophia as if to say ‘hold your horses woman’ before finishing her nth glass of red.

“You remember my brother, right? The one I always talk about but you still have not met?”

Again, Sophia almost felt offended. “Obviously! Bunny H.”

Just as Sophia uttered that, Michal bursted out in deafening laughter, strong enough that he almost dropped his glass on himself.

“Bunny H?” He repeated incredulously, “What the fuck? That’s the funniest thing I have heard all night!'' His continued laughter was infectious enough that in no time, Gemma and Sophia joined him.

“Well, thank you for finding amusement in me, Michal. But I’m pretty sure that’s what your girlfriend calls her brother anyway. That’s where a bloody pick it up from, you poopyhead.” Sophoa said, making sure to give Michal her a good-natured glare which the latter answered with his hands raised in surrender.

“Soph, I can assure you that he hates it when Gem calls him that.” Michal looked at Sophia with a visible smirk. “And, there is no way at all that he still looks like a bunny, unlike when he was younger. He’s a grown man now, Soph.”

Sophia just looked at Michal in perplexity when he started to wiggle his brows up and down, somehow suggestively. It made her feel much better though when Gemma once again hits Michal on the arm to stop.

“He’s still my baby brother who looks like an adorable bunny, and he will forever be no matter how much you guys grow your facial hair!” Gemma did not hold back on the force of her fists as she continued to smack a laughing Michal.

It didn’t make Sophia feel left out or some sort of third wheel like what others might expect. But it just made her confused on where the heck this bloody conversation was heading to? So Sophia busied herself by pouring her own fifth glass of wine as the seemingly married coupled kept their bickering going,

“So, what’s with bunny H?” Sophia asked before taking a sip. “Not joining the family rest house surprise then?”

Gemma looked at her with a look of complete confusion, like she didn’t have a single clue of what Sophia was saying. Yup, the wine was getting to her best friend now.

“Oh, I’m just setting both of you guys on a date.”

Gemma said it so casually, and as if Sophia already knew about it. It was so bizarre and so out of the blue that nothing was adding up in Sophia’s brain thus her reaction of pure shock: spitting her current mouthful of wine all over the wooden table.

Everything stops after that.

The couple had looked at Sophia with widened eyes of unadulterated astoundment.

Then everything begins again, hysterical laughter sprang in the air. Gemma laughed at Sophia’s obnoxious wine-stained outfit and her ruined table set-up, Michal in stitches at the way Gemma just blurted out the thing she was nervous about for the entire time in such a casual manner, and Sophia in her own doubled-over position because of the absurdity of the entire situation which she should have somehow clocked some time ago now.

Yes, Wine Nights at Gemma’s somehow always resulted in something wildly uncanny.

“Bloody fluffball, Gem! What has gotten into you?” Sophia asked as the three of them began to clean the mess she had accidentally caused, answering her own question sarcastically while Gemma helped her fruitlessly remove the dark stain on her dress, “Apparently something that makes you think you can set me up with your brother is what is.”

Gemma giggled unhelpfully, shrugging her shoulders like she also didn’t know the answer to the question while the three of them returned to their seats after making sure no wine is not in the confines of their wine glasses where it belongs.

“I’m just really certain in my gut that you’re going to be the perfect girl for my brother. You guys are so similar.”

“Before you say that, you actually do know that I barely know anything about this guy regardless if he’s your brother, babe. I don’t even know his name, only flipping bunny H cause you don’t want to tell me!” Sophia exclaimed which earned an amused chuckle from Michal, and a sheepish smile from her best friend.

It’s true, Sophia knows not even the bare minimum about Gemma’s younger brother. All she knows is that the man is a really busy bee who barely has time for his family yet alone to be introduced to her. Sophia has never questioned why the subject about him never got brought up whenever they had lunch with Anne and Robin, nor why Gemma was very persistent and adamant on not sharing his full name every time Sophia had asked.

Gemma’s excuse was that Sophia can’t know his full name nor see a picture of him because bunny H is a very private person who doesn’t like people snooping in his business. Sophia thought Gemma’s younger brother was being ridiculous for thinking that knowing his full name and getting familiar with how he looks is already an invasion of privacy.

Now that she’s faced with this situation though, maybe it was her best friend that was being ridiculous, and very much dubious that is.

“You didn’t really think I’d agree to this, right?”

“Why do you think I specifically shared this to you in Wine Nights at Gemma’s? Obviously, I know how you'll react based on all the blind dates I tried to set you up before.” Gemma replied, exasperation laced underneath her voice.

“Well based on the events tonight,” Michal chimed in, “looks like you didn’t even expect how you’ll react babe.” Michal teased Gemma, “I was certain you needed to loosen up with wine just telling Soph, and I was also expecting that Soph didn’t even need wine to answer you, love.”

That got Sophia cackling in her seat as Gemma once more narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend for being a very helpful voice towards her.

Tauntingly, Sophia asked, “Did you actually believe that you can also loosen me up with so much wine that I’d be agreeing to you in an instant?”

Gemma flipped her middle finger to Sophia’s face before gulping down her freshly refiled drink.

“Clearly not, I’m not that bloody stupid, alright.” Gemma defended, “It’s just that I’ve been thinking about this so much, setting the two of you up for years that it just crossed my mind that H is actually moving into his new place next week and I have yet to introduce you guys in person an-”

“For years?!” Sophia cuts Gemma off in an instant, a look of utter disbelief painted on her face. “You;ve been thinking of setting me up with bunny H for years?”

To Sophia’s horror, Gemma gives her the infamous ‘I’m guilty but you love me’ smile that she always used whenever she knew that Sophia was about to get it on with her. Sophia’s eyes shifted to her best friend’s boyfriend who was nodding his eagerly, mouthing inaudibly, ‘for years, Soph, years.’

Sophia scoffed at the growing absurdity of this wine night, not hesitating to pour herself another glass and proceeded to gulp half of it in one go. She finished the rest in slight irritation at the couple visibly chuckling at her apparent brewing stress that was no doubt caused by the other woman on the table.

“Babe, listen.” Gemma said, coming to sit beside Sophia, “I know I can be really crazy at times, but I’m telling you, I have never met anyone that would match you as much as bunny H.”

Sophia shivered, “Can we stop calling him bunny H? It’s kinda really bothering me now, learning you’ve been thinking of setting me up with him for god knows how long already.”

“Okay, just H then.” Gemma relented, “But I still won’t tell you his full name because you’ll definitely try to search him up on socials or something and I don’t want you to do that cause I want you to be surprised on what you see on you guys’ first date.”

This time, Sophia is the one who hits (just lightly, mind you) Gemma on the arm with how confident she sounds all of a sudden.

“And who said I’m going to a bloody furball date with him? I’m old enough and wise enough to disagree with you on this, Gem.”

“Sophiaaaaa..” Gemma dragged out her name in a whine, “My brother is your type to the T. I swear to fucking Christ, your type to the T!”

Sophia’s brows curved at Gemma’s explicit words, the whole idea still jumbled in her head making no sense at all on why Gemma suddenly became so desperate in setting Sophia up with her younger brother knowing how stubborn her best friend can be when it comes to the topic of relationships.

“Well, if he apparently is my type as you say,” Sophia tried to humor the clearly exhilarated Gemma, “then your brother is a rare one.” Sophia finished in a praise, the sides of Gemma’s lips lifted like she thought she was winning the argument.

“With that being said, why in the world does your brother not have a girl yet?”

“Because he acts like an old man!” Gemma exclaimed without abandon, “Always working for his future wife and family bullcrap that he doesn’t even have in the first place concerning that he has no love life to work for!”

Gemma was so worked-out from her sharing that Sophia did not even try to argue with her when Gemma suddenly took her wine glass from her own hands, gulping the remains on Sophia’s drink in one go.

“Look, you know I won’t ever bring you any trouble myself, and I’m telling you that my brother is no trouble. He’s just troubled and lonely even if he’s not saying it.” Gemma exhaled after her clear rant, expression more subdued after.

“You already know that he works for this bigshot in London and said boss is always in Paris so that’s where he’s mostly settled in. But last month, I got a call from him where he told me that he was quitting his job, fucking finally if you asked me, and he’s moving back permanently to London and spending more time here with me and occasionally with our parents. So you see, he’s also starting his own business at the same time, and you of all people know how stressful that can be, babe.”

Color Sophia confused once more, “A while ago you wanted me to go on a date with him, and then now you’re implying you want me to help him with his new business venture?”

Surprisingly, Gemma began to pour herself a glass of water, massaging her temples afterwards with Michal and Sophia also getting themselves some much needed hydration in their system.

“Not in that way, but yes.” Gemma replied, “I want someone to be with him constantly in his life, you know? I mean we’re not getting any younger and it’s not like I have no faith in him and his dating skills, but I just don’t want him to waste any more precious time and just bring him someone that’s perfect for him.”

Sophia held back a snort, “And that ‘perfect’ one happens to be me?”

Gemma answered Sophia’s expression of incredulity with her million-dollar smile, the one where guys like Michal go loco over, “Yes, you, love. You happen to be perfect for my brother.”

And that was it, Sophia couldn’t any longer control the snort of amusement that came out of her mouth, Michal chuckling on his seat at the way Gemma almost looked baffled at Sophia’s lack of confidence at what she was saying.

“I don’t know how to explain it to you properly,” Gemma persisted with unyielding might, "but I swear on my life that when you agree to go on this date and meet him, you’ll understand for yourself.”

Hearing the evident resoluteness at her best friend’s tone, Sophia composed herself with a huge breath, refilling her cup of water. “That’s a big one to swear, Gem. You might not even be alive anymore to witness this fantasy of yours in the works if you keep swearing on your bloody life.”

The weird tension in the room dissipated after that, the three once again sharing a laugh as they sobered-up from their earlier wine spree.

“Well, I guess I’d die for the both of you.” Gemma shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “That’s how much my love for the both of you I have running in my blood.” she said with a cheeky wink, reaching to her side to give Sophia’s own cheek a peck.

Sophia had no qualms in returning her best friend’s affection, though her mind was still whirling in thought about everything that had been said tonight as she tried to make complete sense out of it all.

After a short while, Sophia spoke with unbridled conviction.

“I love you, Gem, so much. You’re the sister I’ve never had. But it’s just not making complete sense to me, and I promise I actually really thought about it. I’m certain that I’m 95% sure it’s still a no from me.”

In hindsight, the smile of determination that showers off Gemma's face, should have alerted Sophia on the current plan her best friend was brewing in her headstrong mind.

Though Sophia was more amused than anything when Gemma had replied with yet again, a very weighty promise.

“I see, I’m always up for a challenge, Sophia.” Gemma smirked proudly like Sophia hadn’t already straight-out disagreed with her proposal. “So I swear on my bloody future children’s life that you’re going to be their aunt once they’re born.”

That had been a very monumental utterance to proclaim, but it’s really not the first time Gemma had said something just as equally crazy. That’s why in all honesty, Sophia was not suspecting anything dubious when Gemma visited her flower shop the Monday of the brand new week.

Gemma arrived bright and early in the morning with her usual cup of tea in hand, and a little cup holder on the other side with four other drinks.

Sophia hummed, “Hmm, finally done tormenting your assistant, I see.” Sophia’s remark graces her with a regular Gemma Styles’ eye roll whenever her best friend finds the audacity to tease her.

“Just because she likes you better, does not mean you can disrespect her real boss.” Gemma huffed jokingly. Giving Sophia a hug and a kiss on her cheek upon getting near her.

Gemma then proceeded to hand Sophia her hot cocoa, calling her other three employees while handing them the remaining drinks on the cup holder.

“Bloody hell, boss S,” Kit, Sophia’s other employee, gives her a smirk while taking a big sip from her drink. “I don’t want to be rude or anything but, I think you have to step-up your game if you don’t want us taking Apple’s job.”

Gemma and the other two girls share a laugh together as Sophia gives Kit a meaningful glare, the small smile forming on her face giving away that she was mostly just joking.

“Up my game, like buy my employees ten quid drinks every morning but in turn, let them go crazy until ten at night with a lot of work? Wonder if I should bring Apple now and say there’s an opening at my shop, though she’s still probably asleep because you know, working till ten at night with a wanker boss at that.”

Everyone giggled behind their morning drinks, Gemma was on the brink of spitting hers in feign shock.

“I cannot believe you just called me a wanker.” Gemma had gasped.

Sophia smirked smugly, “That’s for calling me a twat last Friday.”

In true Gemma Styles fashion, she rolled her eyes once more that Sophia is truly afraid her eyes might get stuck in that upward turn.

“Oh please, can we get over Friday night already?” Gemma asked, even moving her hand to dismiss the topic.

Sophia tried to not look suspicious at her best friend’s actions, but to Gemma’s credit, she had not been giving Sophia any signs for her to worry since Friday night. Not once did Gemma bring the topic up over the weekend. Thinking about it, that whole night seemed like a bizarre dream on its own.

Before Sophia can overthink Gemma’s actions, the latter abruptly placed Sophia’s thoughts on a hold and asked for the flower arrangements that Apple pre-ordered last week for her.

“Someone picking it up later?” Sophia asked from her position at her desk where some of the arrangements were placed.

“Nope, I’m picking them up right now.” Gemma replied with a beaming smile, Sophia won’t deny the quirk of her eyebrow in slight question.

“Oh? These flowers are important then, if you yourself are picking it up,” Sophia glanced at the round wall clock, “at 8:24 in the morning…”

It was quite clear that Gemma chose to also dismiss the skeptical tone of Sophia’s voice, replying with an easy and unconcerned manner.

“Well, you can say that. But it’s really not a matter for your pretty little head to worry about. Actually, your girls would probably be the ones doing that while you’re away for a bit because you’re coming with me.”

Now that’s suspicious.

With a frown painted on Sophia’s face, she crossed her arms across her chest at what she had heard.

“Pardon? You want me to come with you?”

“Yeah. And not want, you are coming with me and with these lush arrangements. You’re really so good at your job babe, I’m beyond impressed.”

Before Sophia could even seek what was going on, Gemma walked past the counter where Sophia was stationed, picking up some of the arrangements herself. The woman even had the audacity to tell Sophia’s girls to do their job well and take care of Sophia’s flower babies while their boss was away to join her.

“And she won’t be back until after lunch.” Gemma then looked at Sophia expectantly, “Now would you hurry up Soph, and remove your bloody apron. Wouldn’t want that soiled garment on my pristine car seats.”

“Excuse me?!” Sophia huffed out at Gemma’s implication of her slightly (very, but no one important is confirming) messy nature only to be laughed at by her best friend who was already heading outside the shop to her car.

Well, I guess I really have no choice now, do I? Sophia thought reluctantly.

Thus, with one last reminders to her employees - who she also told to pray for her soul in case Gemma wanted to murder her out of the blue - Sophia removed her apron (pristinely clean, thank you very much) half-heartedly and fetched her bag as she walked outside her floristry to join Gemma in her car.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Styles.” Sophia said in a familiar tone of exasperation at Gemma’s giddy face as she buckled her seatbelt on.

“Oh come on!” Gemma chuckled, “When are you not in the mood for Gemma Styles’ Infamous Acts of Spontaneity?”

“I don’t know? Always?”

To Sophia’s dismay, Gemma just guffawed at her stony reply. Gemma always does whenever she pulls Sophia for one of her reckless life decisions that somehow invariably occurs with Sophia by her side. How nice, right?

Sophia allowed Gemma to drive them along in silence, content with listening to the faint music coming from the radio.

Sophia has learned that during these specific times of Gemma spontaneity, it’s wise to not question what’s happening in an instant and just wait for Gemma to spill. If not, Gemma would rant on and on, all ride long on how boring Sophia was becoming. Sophia is really not too keen on that for it would only be a further reminder of her lacking social life to be honest.

Intrigue rose within Sophia when she noticed them entering a private, gated community. It looked quite similar to Gemma and Michal’s village although this one seemed bigger with only a few houses per street.

Very much on the verge of freeing her shut mouth and demanding an explanation, Sophia’s hackles are raised even higher the moment they stop in front of a big green gate. Somehow, Gemma knew the keycode for the gate to unlock, a frown ingrained on Sophia’s face as Gemma drove her car to park in front of a beautiful, and clearly brand-new looking home.

Sophia couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Where in the world are we? And don’t flipping frog crap at me or I’m calling your mum right now.” to signify how serious Sophia was, she even brought out her phone to show Gemma that Anne was on her speed dial.

“And since when did you have my mum on speed dial? Are you planning to snitch on me or something?” Gemma asked more amusedly than annoyed.

“Oh, don’t you dare change the topic, little miss troublemaker. Now tell me who’s house this is or I’m really pressing this button.”

Gemma tried to stare Sophia off with her hard green orbs, which seriously, she should know by now that Sophia is completely immune from her steely gaze that usually makes anyone else cower in defeat. When Gemma quickly realized that she won’t be having her way on this one, Gemma huffed out an exaggerated breath the same time a grin creeped on her cherry red painted lips.

“We’re currently at my baby brother’s house.”

Sophia swore a bucket of cold water was thrown over her entire body, shocked and stupefied is to say the least on how she was currently feeling.

“We’re in bunny H’s house?! What the fluffing furball are we doing here?!” Sophia whisper-shouted as if said brother would actually hear them.

This resulted in a laughing Gemma, the woman was audibly delighted and found this entire crisis ordeal of Sophia such a fun source of entertainment. Before Sophia can even think of ways on how to magically disappear from that very moment, Gemma relieves Sophia from her palpable turmoil.

“Soph, would you relax, love? Bunny H isn’t here, well not here yet at least. He’ll officially be moving next week, but right now he’s still in Paris sorting out things from his work. I wish he could have called it quits earlier to be honest.” Gemma’s clear distaste for her brother’s work is evident in her tone.

Sophia exhales a breath in relief, feeling saved by God from the mere doom of her fate just seconds ago. “Haven’t we already discussed to stop calling your brother bunny H?”

Gemma gave her a smug look that’s also not lost in her voice. “If I’m not mistaken - which I rarely am, mind you - you were the one who said bunny H before I did.”

Sophia felt warmth traveling up to her cheekbones, a significant and hard to miss sign that she was indeed blushing.

“Aww, look at you,” Gemma cooed, reaching over the console to pinch Sophia’s flushed cheek. “Already hot and bothered even without bunny H being here yet.”

Flustered, Sophia replied indignantly, “Stop calling him that!” as she placed both of her hands on her flaming cheeks.

Gemma just continued to cackle, the evil best friend of Sophia just goes down her car while instructing Sophia to help her bring some of the arrangements inside the house like Sophia didn’t at all radiate the energy that she wants to be anywhere but here.

Still ignoring Sophia’s qualms, they made their way inside as Gemma explained to Sophia that she was the unpaid interior designer of ‘H.S’ which is what the two have agreed on calling her unnamed younger brother. By the looks of the entryway, the house is brand-new just as Sophia had first thought.

It was a big home to say the least, Sophia instantly noticing how Gemma made it look really homey, as if it were just a bigger version of her and Michal’s place. This home had more of a modern and minimal style compared to Gemma’s which was filled with a lot of eclectic knickknacks and various crystal ornaments.

“This is such a spacious house,” Sophia noted, Gemma and her stopping at the once again quite huge and chef equipped kitchen. “Are you sure your brother is going to live alone?”

“He is. My brother won’t be stupid enough to bring a girl over to live with him without telling me or mum and Robin. I’d shave his head if he actually did that.” Gemma replied, complete with a furious pinch on her forehead just imagining it.

“I guess that’s good to hear that my baby flowers are going to be here to accompany him.” Sophia said rather fondly, helping Gemma place some of the flower arrangements on the huge countertop.

“Or, you can just agree to the date and live with him here to personally keep him company.” Gemma wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Hmm..” Sophia hums in faux consideration, “I bet he’d fancy my £110 preserved tulips and daisies better than a high maintenance florist when he already happens to have a high maintenance sister to begin with.”

Sophia’s jest earned a mixture of a laugh and an exasperated groan from her best friend.

“Sophiaaaa..” Gemma dragged her name in a whining tone, Sophia chuckling at her dramatics as they placed the last of the other arrangements in the living room.

“What?”

Instead of answering verbally, Gemma all out bounced herself down on the most likely never been used gray couches.

“Oh shit, that’s comfy!” Gemma remarked positively, “Remind me to order a bouquet for this couch company to thank them for providing for my firm. And you should probably add a few special sunflowers or something, might make them give me a free couch of theirs.”

Sophia snorted at Gemma’s little cheap cake remark as she sat herself down beside the woman. Seriously, it’s not like Gemma can’t afford a fancy couch to begin with.

“Imagine living here with my brother and these heavenly, comfortable couches?” Gemma began to think out loud with a little dreamy tint placed in her words. “Oh! Better yet, imagine having heavenly, cosmic sex her-”

“GEMMA ANNE STYLES!” Sophia’s crimson red face shouted, frankly appalled and disturbed at her best friend’s indecent thoughts this early on a Monday morning.

Being the unforgivingly blunt little minx that she is, Gemma just cackled rambunctiously at Sophia’s apparent discomfort. Clearly, it’s not weird for her to picture her best friend in a highly intimate scenario with her younger brother.

“Leave it to you on being disturbed about couch sex talk. To be honest, it’s really underrated. The amount of positions you guy-”

“OH MY BLOODY BLOOD! Can you stop your flipping crude words already?!”

Gemma just doubled in laughter, bending herself in half on the couch as Sophia’s face continuously grew a shade darker of red. Gemma knows how her crude words can usually be overwhelming for Sophia, and yet she loves getting a reaction from her either way.

“Gosh you’re adorable!” Gemma gushed despite Sophia’s attempt of an annoyed glare towards her, “This is why you’re so perfect for H.”

Sophia replied sarcastically, “Why? Cause he doesn’t find couch sex any appealing?”

Gemma’s grin is rather bright for someone who just got scoffed.

“He’s just not that type of guy, you know? I mean, not like I know his sexual preference or what not cause that’s seriously just disgusting and weird if I do. But he’s just not that type of guy who gives such a big deal about intercourse. Quite honestly, he turn just like you whenever I talk about sex. It’s really rather cute how the both of you turn all red and bothered while nagging me to stop talking.”

Sophia felt a slight relief after hearing that, for no apparent reason, obviously. She now at least has an insight on H.S about that particular matter, not like it really has any relevant value. Sex is yet too intimate of a topic to even associate with him in any form.

“Whatever, Gem.” Sophia shrugged, “still not going on that date with him.” she smiled evenly at a now pouting Gemma.

“It’s just one night! What can you lose?”

“Actually, the correct question is: what am I to gain?”

Gemma just looked at Sophia like she’s just lost her head.

“I don’t know? Like a bloody loving and amazing boyfriend, perhaps? If you haven’t noticed, you’ve been single and lonely for god knows how long. You don’t trust online dating nor even like to party or mingle around, so how do you expect to meet someone then?”

Sophia’s jaw dropped to the floor at all these words coming from Gemma. Sophia’s not offended in any light, it’s just that there’s a silent agreement between the two of them to not mention nor verbally acknowledge her bluntly lack of a love life. It’s a conversation they both know won’t end well.

Unsure of whether this might head south all too quickly, Sophia decided to say more than ask. “Before you even think of diving really deep into this conversation, let me just touch the surface light, shall I.”

Sophia did not wait for any reply before she’s back on it, “The fact that I am a self-proclaimed clingy, co-dependent, and borderline possessive lovesick easily jealous puppy, is already a fair and blaring warning for your brother. Or anyone who wants to date me for that matter.”

Not only did Gemma look at her like she had lost her mind, but she has now also looked at Sophia like she had just lost all her wits and limbs all together.

“How could all those be a red flag? The only guys, or may I say boys that would think that way are fucking wanking arseholes of twats who are too immature for their own good. And you better believe me when I say that my brother is fucking far from being that. I would have literally disowned him as anyone related to me if he thinks those traits you’ve just mentioned are all but negative things. Those traits of yours are that of a bloody loyal and loving person.”

Those were the moments that made Sophia think how unique Gemma truly is. Vastly outspoken, efficiently eloquent and blunt. Though it still renders her speechless whenever Gemma talks so heatedly about something, no doubt much more when it’s a lecture about Sophia’s poorly dating life.

“Look,” Gemma said after a few minutes of silence after her weighty speech. She reached for Sophia’s hand to hold it down her lap in a comforting touch. “I get it, all these fears and negative comments placed on you by previous lovers and all that shit. I understand that it's taken a toll on you because clearly, you haven’t met any guy that has treated you with respect and that unconditional love every human deserves. But, that doesn’t mean you should close yourself off to other more deserving guys out there who are also looking for what you need. The world is already abundant with hate and fear, you wouldn't want to add more to that, yeah?”

Sophia almost wanted to shed a tear at Gemma’s already heart-warming speech, and here she goes trying to guilt trip Sophia with the concept of world peace.

Instead of replying, Sophia glared at Gemma’s resurgence of her ‘I’m-guilty-but-you-love-me’ smile to show her that Sophia’s not buying the ‘date my brother so world peace can progress’ crap she was trying to sell here.

“Fine!” Gemma relented all of a sudden, removing her hold on Sophia’s hand to cross her arms above her chest. “Considering you’re so alike to my brother, for sure he’s going to throw a way worse fit than you have been doing when he learns about my genius plans. I won’t set you guys up on a date anymore.”

Sophia might actually start crying now as a smile of victory breaks into her face. Upon seeing such a gleeful response, Gemma pointed her finger at Sophia who’s supposedly doing a dance of victory on her head is halted.

“However, that doesn’t mean you’d get away with meeting him. This Friday, my place and same time. Wine Nights at Gemma’s Special Bunny H Edition.”

Sophia thinks that should be better than that date, right?

*~*~*

Working as a head chef for Gordon Ramsay always had its perks and its disadvantages.

Advantages can be earning a highly generous amount of money from doing what you love. Harry gets to travel first class around the world just to do what he loves to do the most: consuming, learning, and making more food.

Disadvantages would be that Harry’s a very busy lad, one who has seldom time to spare for his family and the fact that he doesn’t really get to focus on anything besides his work.

Considering that Harry’s only 22 years old, most people would likely say that he should just continue to flourish in his job, to learn and grow more as an individual before worrying about other things besides those.

You see, that’s what Harry’s mindset is to begin with. Get everything ready and prepared whether that entails maturing himself or growing his financial resources before he stops being the head chef of one of the culinary legends of the entire world and begins to settle down. And when he’s accomplished all that, everything would be perfect: starting his own business, and having his own family to build it with.

Now it took Harry a good wake-up call in the form of his older sister, Gemma, to see that he could perfectly achieve all those right now.

Gemma’s only a year older than Harry, and having a call in the middle of a boring meeting in Paris is all it took for Harry to question his current life decisions. Gemma had rang him about being dead-set on buying a home with her boyfriend Michal, just after two years of starting her own design firm.

If she can do what she loves on her own and have someone that she loves much more at such an early age, what can’t I strive to have that too?

Obviously it wasn’t just that phone call that suddenly altered his entire life plan, Harry also had to consult with his mum and Robin if he was thinking on the right path and if he was being reasonable. Knowing that his mum was a literal older version of his sister (albeit much more savage if you ask him), Anne definitely made sure to put it in Harry’s head that he was a right twat for only realizing it now that he should stop being such a workaholic and start to focus on the greater things that matter.

“At this rate, you can buy your future girl the entire Selfridges for all she cares! So, you bloody better quit your job now and settle back down in London if you don’t want all your hard earnings to be put to waste, you lovely wanker.”

Yup, leave it to Anne Twist to call her son lovely and a wanker in the same sentence. Though all in all, it was the right words that Harry absolutely needed to hear to get his life into a new and better perspective.

Surprisingly, everything went smoothly with this new route of his. Harry officially landed on England soil early this morning, and had just finished his final work-related thing with Gordon just a few hours ago. He can now finally breath in relief as he’s currently sitting on an Uber that’s heading to his newly bought home.

Harry was about to take a much needed nap considering he just also finished a swarm of calls from his builders for his upcoming restaurant that’s already on the works. It felt as if he had just literally closed his eyes for a second when his sister decided to have other plans and made it her mission to ring Harry in that instant.

Harry does not try to disguise his annoyance upon answering the call. “Why hello my dear sister, why does it seem like you always fancy ringing me at the most unreasonable hours?”

“Actually, it’s not my bloody problem that you decided to come here earlier than planned.” Gemma bit back with the same air of annoyance. “Weren’t you supposed to arrive this Thursday? If I’m not mistaken, it’s just Monday today, little bro.”

Gemma’s usual sassiness definitely does not fail in waking Harry up a bit.

“First of all, why am I even surprised that mum told you I was arriving days earlier? And second, is it such a crime to leave earlier than planned and be more productive? Because if I reckon correctly, I am currently in the process of starting my own restaurant of some sorts here in London. Thirdly, you are correct. It is a Monday and I’d be concerned if your paranoid self forgot about this thing called a calendar, everyone has one in their mobile devices if that’s any help.”

Harry swears he can actually picture Gemma’s angry face, with steam leaving her nose and ears like the cartoon they watched in the telly when they were younger. Thankfully, it was only Gemma’s groan of vexation that she gave Harry.

“God, I wonder how anyone would survive your smartass attitude to be honest. You’re worse than me really, and everyone already does not like it when I talk.”

Harry laughed at that. “I mean, I am one of a kind. Rare, some might even say.”

Gemma’s indignant groan only rises in octave as Harry’s practiced ears heard her quiet hiss of ‘cocky narcissistic bastard’ on the other end of the line.

More amused at her reaction than anything, Harry chuckled and had finally asked why Gemma called before she took more time off his impending nap.

“I’m just wondering, since you’ve arrived earlier than initially planned, do you mind if I set your date with my lovely best girl pal on Wednesday around 7:30 in the evening?” Gemma all but said casually, Harry’s eyes almost bugging out of its sockets just like in the same children’s program they frequently watched before.

“Cause I figured you’d like to pick her up at around 6:30, then probably a stopover or some shit cause you’re a romantic weirdo and that would take another 30 minu-”

“Gemma Anne Styles, d0n’t you even dare think of doing that exact same shit you’ve just told me if you know what’s good for you.” Harry sternly interrupted his older sister without any ounce of remorse. “I’m so bloody tired of having this conversation with you again and again! How many times do I have to verbally tell you that you’re not fucking setting me up with your lovely best girl pal. No offense to her, but she’s some sort of crazy wanker if she agrees to your delusional and poorly planned date. Besides, I bet you already tortured that girl enough being as she’s been your best friend since you two were in uni. But what I’m really trying to say, is I’ll gladly disown you as my sister if you so wish to continue with your actions and-”

“HOLY MOTHERFUCKING BLOODY MARY AND CHRIST! Would you shut it already?! I’m just kidding, okay?”

The gallons of pure relief that washes over Harry, made him feel like no nap is needed to make him feel this relief and rested from the antics of his annoyingly, pain in the arse, persistent sister. Christ, Gemma’s been pushing Harry to do this blind date since last week. It started subtly with hints in the beginning, then it escalated to full on detailed calls and texts just a few days later.

“You should have just said you didn’t want to go on the date because it’s too soon to find your soulmate type of romantic bullshit you say.” Gemma carried on to insult Harry’s romantic principles. “You really didn’t have to blatantly disrespect our relationship as siblings. It’s nice to hear you even have thoughts of disowning me, clearly you’re more of a drama queen than my lovely best friend. She just straight out told me she’s not going, better learn from her, Harold.”

Harry rolled his eyes at his sister’s dramatics regardless if she just proclaimed she wasn’t one for it.

“I guess it’s good to hear that she’s apparently the more sensible between you two.” Harry chuckled at his own clever jab, knowing well enough that his sister is definitely the type who would fancy a blind date with some stranger. It’s really great to hear that Gemma has not influenced her best friend in that realm.

“Oh would you stop it already,” Gemma scoffed, “I already had an earful from her earlier today upon my brilliant plans of getting her to agree.”

Harry let out a full-on guffawing loud laugh at that. If this girl can take down his sister and Gemma also earned an ‘earful’ from her, then this girl must be really different from Gemma as most of her other friends are just as loud as her making it impossible for anyone to lower her notches.

“Ohh..” Harry muttered in intrigue, “I think I might already like her Gem, obviously not in a romantic way as you’re most likely thinking right now you delusional twat. It’s more of I think I’d fancy her to be my partner in annoying you.”

“Whatever, you just wait and see for more of your similarities this Friday.”

Harry’s giddy behavior stopped right there.

“What?! Didn’t you just say-”

“OKAY!” Gemma did nothing but just screamed at Harry making the latter wince with his phone inching away from his poor ear. “Before you get your knickers in a twist Harold, just because I called off the date, doesn’t mean I don’t want you guys to meet.”

Gemma’s voice considerably softened. “She’s still my best friend from uni, H. You should at least get to know her considering she’ll be with me almost all of my free time. So, I’m inviting you this Friday, together with some of my other close friends to Wine Nights at Gemma’s 7:30 sharp, and don’t even think of bailing on me.”

As much as Harry has never fancied the idea of being set up on a date, Gemma was still correct that it was only rational for him to get to know this best friend of hers considering she’d probably be one of the few people Harry would know in London aside from his colleagues. Better have a familiar face in his new life in the city.

“Sure. Wouldn’t want to miss my first ever invitation at the highly prestigious Wine Nights at Gemma’s. How could I?” Harry’s obvious flattery elicits a laugh from both siblings.

Harry has heard a lot of good things from said wine nights. The fact it has an official name shows some importance to it. Plus, Harry has felt enough jealousy at the fun it seems to bring from all of Gemma’s Instagram posts about it.

“That’s good to hear.” the smile on Gemma’s voice rings clear at the end of the line. “Before I let you go, just a heads up, I left a very special set of surprises at your place.”

Harry instantly groaned at that, he hated it when Gemma went to his home without telling him. The evil older sibling that she is, Gemma only laughed at Harry’s clear distaste for her actions.

“Actually, it's perfect that you’re arriving tonight. I bet you’d genuinely really like it. But anyway, Michal’s waiting for me to start our movie night so I better head off. Love you, H!”

Before Harry can even complain how it really wasn’t a bright idea of his to have given her the code to both his gate and front door, Gemma left him hanging. Not only that, envious too that she’s having a movie night with her boyfriend while Harry’s going to be stuck alone at home, and worse, has to get his Wifi connection installed before he can even watch some Netflix.

Finding no sense to act petulant about such misfortunes, Harry occupied himself the remaining ride home thinking about Gemma’s surprise. Upon arriving at his new home, Harry certainly did not picture the six beautifully arranged assortment of preserved flowers scattered on both his living room and kitchen to be his sister’s little welcoming treat.

A beaming smile graced Harry's lips when he also noticed a tin of his favorite matcha on the marbled kitchen countertop placed on top of one of Gemma’s famous stamped letters.

Dear H,

I hope you loved these beautiful (and expensive) flower arrangements from yours truly. If it even matters to you, my lovely best friend helped me make this possible.

I know you wouldn’t really have the balls to tell me this verbally, but I also made sure to buy you your favorite brand of matcha and supplied you with a big mug in your cupboards to use. I know you’d feel lonely on your first night at such a big house, I hope these little things have provided you some comfort, little bro.

Don’t worry, if you play your cards right, I might just buy your future girl’s favorite beverage too so she can join you on your late night Netflix shenanigans.

But since that’s yet to happen because you so politely declined my offer as resident (and CERTIFIED) cupid, just enjoy your night alone and probably ponder about sending your sweet sister some flower arrangements in return? It wouldn’t be polite if she already works for you free of charge and you don’t even return the pleasant favor by dropping her some simple flowers.

Anyway, love you lots, bunny H!

Yours truly,

Gemma Styles 💘

The best older sister & cupid in all of London

P.S. There’s a business card inside the envelope where I WANT the flowers specifically from. Good luck and thank me later 😉

Wasn’t that letter sweet? Harry thought the same thing until his older sister showed her true bossy colors by ‘requesting’ Harry to buy her some ‘simple’ flowers. Besides, as deviously clever as Gemma thinks she is, Harry can see right through her schemes with crystal clear eyes.

Harry knows pretty close to nothing about Gemma’s best friend, except for the fact that she’s held the poor girl captive for how many years now as Harry’s certain no person would willingly be Gemma Styles’ best friend without some coercion happening. The other fact that Harry knows is said best friend is a florist. How can he not know about that when Gemma insisted on calling her ‘sunflower’ every time Harry asked what her real name was. Thankfully, Harry learned early on to just stop asking.

Harry does not bother looking at the business card tucked safely inside his sister’s envelope, he shakes his head and disposes of it in the bin while imagining in his head what Gemma’s real plan was. It would obviously go around the lines of an innocently oblivious Harry arriving at some flower shop in central London, coincidentally meets the owner, strikes up conversation with her, and then Harry and her magically fall in love together. So when Harry delivers the flowers Gemma has requested, low and behold, ‘oh, the owner is my best girl pal! Harry, it was meant to be!’

“Meant to be my ass.” Harry muttered to himself. As someone who’s not the biggest fan of romance movies no matter how much of a natural romantic flare he has, it’s no surprise that Harry does not end up watching The Notebook that night nor follow his sister’s twisted plan of a flower shop meet-cute.

Instead, Harry found himself at a Waitrose near his half-way finished restaurant after getting inspired from an episode of The Great British Bake-Off he had ended up watching last night. Gemma wanted flowers, but Harry was more in the mood of baking her some red velvet cupcakes. Not only will it serve him good brother points, but it would also instill in Gemma that his argument still stands strong: Harry has the best red velvet cupcake recipe and her excuse for a special recipe does not even compare.

With that will in mind, Harry carried on filling his trolley with all the ingredients he needed from salt, to flour, and to cocoa powder. By the time he reached the section for cupcake holders, Harry was examining the contents of his trolley, feeling as if he was missing something integral.

“Red!” Harry facepalmed himself. “Dummy, how can you forget the food coloring?”

Before anyone can question the man with his hair on a bun talking to himself in aisle eight, Harry quickly makes his way back to the baking bits where he thinks the food coloring is located. He finds it without any worries, mind laser-focused on the task that he doesn’t notice the other person that’s also on the same mission as him.

One moment, Harry had his arms outstretched to reach the bottle of red food coloring on the grocery shelf. The next moment, Harry was colliding with an entire body of a little person who he didn’t realize was also aiming to reach for the same thing as him.

“Oh shit!” Harry cursed, one hand grasping the bottle of coloring tightly, while the other was steadying the petite woman who he had accidentally hit.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Harry checked in clear worry, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

The girl’s head was turned downwards and away from Harry’s vision, hands covered in sweater paws were gently rubbing the side of her body that Harry had accidentally collided with.

“Holy furball, that hurt.” the girl had mumbled, Harry’s worrisome self was alerted.

On autopilot, Harry was reaching for the girl himself, hand reaching out to hold her probably bruised arm. “Shit, do you want me to take you to the A&E? Actually, maybe I should just take you to the A&E just to make sur-”

Blue eyes stared back at Harry.

The prettiest, cerulean blue Harry had ever been blessed to see. It literally took the words out of Harry’s lips when the girl had finally looked at him on the face.

Harry does not know what his face currently looked like, all he knew is that whatever his face was showing, made the girl’s beautiful blue orbs widen even farther like the most adorable babydoll eyes.

“Oh.” the girl said before an embarrassed pout formed on her pink lips. “There’s no need for that, I’m just a really clumsy person in general so I’m already used to it. Oh! I’m also so sorry for hitting you. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Blue babydoll eyes turned rounder, cotton candy pink bottom lip protruded even farther.

And oh, Harry was screwed in every angle of that word.

He’s literally in the presence of the person that’s straight-out of his loveliest dreams. Harry knows nothing about this saddened girl in her cream sweater and tight little skirt in front of him but he’s pretty sure she’s the woman he did all those long nights and mornings for making food and saving every pound for.

“No.” Harry quickly said after his state of stupor. “It’s alright, you don’t need to apologize. It was all my fault and you can’t say otherwise.”

It was a definitive statement, one that garnered him a puzzled expression from the pouting girl who was probably used to getting blamed by people because of her self-proclaimed clumsy nature. Well Harry won’t be like those twats to such a wonderful girl who he wants to have a good ending to their meet-cute because that’s totally what’s happening right now.

So Harry gave her a comforting smile instead. “No worries, truly. I was the one in the wrong for not minding my surroundings, but I promise I won’t do it again to you or for anyone else here in this Waitrose for that matter.”

Harry wasn’t trying to be funny, but the angelic giggle the girl let out was rather something he was inclined to hear on repeat.

With a grin, Harry placed his hand forward in greeting. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Sophia.” she had said while returning Harry’s handshake pleasantly.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Sophia.” Harry already loved how the name easily rolled-off his tongue. “Although I would have wished I had met you on better terms without my oblivious self almost colliding with your body down to the germy grocery floor.”

The dig on himself was worth it if only for the giggle Sophia had once again graced him with.

“It was an accident, though.” Sophia had kindly defended. “So I don’t think you should be mean to yourself about it.”

Harry shrugged playfully, “I’d still want to re-do our first interaction if I could.”

“Well that’s not possible so let’s just forget about it and move on.”

But Harry doesn’t want any of those when it comes to Sophia.

He doesn’t know what Sophia’s plans are besides the indication of her equally filled trolley just beside her. Though there’s no way Harry will let her checkout from this Waitrose without him securing any future plans with her.

“What are you shopping for this lovely morning, Sophia?”

The evident want for their conversation to be sustained brought an elated tug at Sophia’s lips. No matter how minute the detail, Harry feels his hopes surge forward at the indication that Sophia also didn’t want their interaction to end at this baking aisle.

“Oh, I actually stopped by here to get some bits for spontaneous dessert baking for my lunch.”

Aren’t they a match made in heaven already?

“Are you serious?” Harry couldn’t help but smirk at her, “I’m also here to do the exact same thing!”

Delighted surprise glowed on Sophia’s face. “Really? That’s insane!”

Harry didn’t want to ruin his chances and opened his smart mouth to say that it’s not really that of a surprise considering they met at the baking aisle. Seeing Sophia’s eyes filled with wonderment at such a simple coincidence was something he wanted to keep being the reason for.

“What are you planning to make, miss star baker?” Harry cheekily wiggled his eyebrows that made Sophia’s beam brighter.

“Red velvet cupcakes!” Sophia excitedly squealed, making Harry’s heart grow fonder for the girl especially when she even clapped her hands a bit in pure elation.

“I was about to grab some red food coloring when you accidentally bumped into me.” Sophia continued, eyes moving back to the grocery shelf only to see that there were no longer any bottles of red food coloring available.

From how quick Sophia had turned to an excited puppy upon telling Harry she was going to bake some red velvet cupcakes, it was just as swiftly that she had turned to a sad puppy upon realizing it couldn’t be possible without the integral part of the dish missing.

Harry swore his heartstrings were pulled cruelly when Sophia proceeded to pout at him, cerulean blues turning glassy. “Harry, there’s no more red food coloring. How can I bake my red velvet babies then?”

He doesn’t know what it is, but Harry has only met Sophia just a few minutes back and just one dejected look from her has Harry wanting to fix and make everything better just to see that happy glow painted back on Sophia’s adorable face.

If this wasn’t a sign from the universe that it was the right choice Harry began settling down in London to get his priorities in life back on track, he doesn’t know what type of push the universe will need to do to his arse when this sacred opportunity is already being handed to him with the stars fucking aligning in front of his own eyes.

Harry tried to give a small smile to a near-tears Sophia when it felt like such an impossible task to do so. “Would it be crazier if I said I was also here to get ingredients for red velvet cupcakes, and I happen to have gotten the last bottle of the red food coloring?”

Harry waited for the words to register in the still kicked-puppy looking Sophia, her cute mouth went agape the moment it did.

“What?” Sophia muttered, dumfounded.

Harry tried his best to reel in the giggles with how cute he’s finding Sophia right that moment. “Yeah, I was here to bake someone some red velvet cupcakes and I was about to checkout and forget about the most important ingredient of all. So I came back for that, and then bumped into you, and now we’re apparently in this parallel universe situation. Isn’t that really crazy?”

“Really, crazy.” Sophia repeated with a dazed smile.

Harry still thinks she is very adorable when he begins to ask, “Since there’s only one bottle left, fancy changing your prior plans to join me at my restaurant instead?”

Blue irises widened in surprise, “What?” Sophia squawked which shouldn't be attractive but it was to Harry because how can anything Sophia do be anything but?

“I think it would be a right shame if I’m the only one who gets to bake some cupcakes when I have an entire professional kitchen under my disposal where I can easily invite you in.”

It’s a very straight forward request, one Harry won’t even suggest if he was already talking to someone weeks in. His kitchen is a very sacred space for Harry, one he doesn’t let others that easily in without finding it in himself to completely trust that someone. Call it a reckless move or one directed from a poorly conceived chance encounter from a romance film, but Harry just feels it in his intuition that it was the right thing to ask.

Sophia looked at him with a tint of uncertainty, “Are you being serious? I don’t think I can impose on you like that just for some cupcakes.”

Harry shook his head lightly, “No, you’re not imposing. I’m actually dead serious about inviting you over to my kitchen. Besides, this request is not only for the sake of any cupcake, it’s for red velvet cupcakes.”

Something about the mention of the specific dessert had gotten Sophia hooked once again in some sort of trance. Harry himself is transfixed at the way the girl had instantly lit up from within like Sophia was just presented with the exact arrangement of numbers to win the lottery and she is determined to take her shot at winning it.

It took barely a second for Sophia to flash Harry with her own winning smile, timidly nodding her head in agreement at the latter’s offer. It seemed like Harry had also won his chance at love at this point early on and that fact only continued to solidify in his head the longer he spent time with Sophia.

Conversations flowed easily between the two from the time they were at the checkout counter talking about their start of the day with Sophia getting the last piece of croissant at her favorite local bakery to Harry sharing his first morning at his new home. Their chatter naturally took a turn to Harry’s new life in London as Sophia excitedly suggested things he needed to see and experience in the city while the two of them loaded their baking goodies in Harry’s Range Rover.

Apparently, Sophia’s flower shop was just around the corner from the grocery so she decided to not take her own car and walked the way instead. It was a highly interesting fact to know that she was a florist and Harry found himself being more engrossed than what he would normally be.

Majority of their short car ride was filled with Harry asking numerous questions to Sophia about anything flora. He quickly learned the innate joy it brings out of the girl with just the simple question of what flowers grow best in spring time or if the meaning behind the color of flowers truly matters when one is purchasing them.

The dimple on Harry’s cheek remained a permanent fixture on his face as Sophia answered all his questions in a joyful manner, dainty hands moving animatedly at her every mention of her ‘flower babies’ which is probably one of the most adorable things Harry has ever heard in his entire existence.

It’s a true shame that Harry couldn’t just purchase every color of roses available to show Sophia how sure he is that he’s on the right route of falling in love with her, nor have the ability to just grab Sophia’s little hand mid-talk to see if their palms do fit seamlessly together like Harry pictures two puzzle pieces connecting to create the perfect link.

Ultimately, Harry wanted to start littering Sophia’s stunning face with adoring kisses every time she said the word baby for all the flower plots she was growing and fondly telling Harry about.

All the best things in life don’t come that easily though, and Harry is well aware of that as he settled with giving Sophia all the attention he can whilst driving them safely. Her soft smiles are easily returned when Harry feels nothing but enamored at every little thing that Sophia had blessed to tell him. It’s not a normal occurrence for Harry to converse with someone so passionate about their career and it’s the first time he’s learnt that he finds it actually rather attractive.

By the time Harry has parked his car at the front of his restaurant in the making, Sophia has just finished telling him about the two dozens of intricate bouquets she and her team had finished earlier today. The deciding factor which made her determine that it was only fair to close the shop before lunch so her hard working employees will get their much needed rest.

Someone who’s passionate about their occupation combined with the fact that they are also giving keen attention to the well-being of their workers? Sign Harry fucking in!

“Oh wow,” Sophia let out when Harry turned off the engine, “We’re here already? That was a fast ride.”

Harry smirked, “What can I say? One can’t really tell the time that passed when they’re in the presence of excellent company.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed, Harry’s cocky words no doubt pulling the side of her lips in amusement regardless if he denies it to his face.

“If I remember correctly,” Sophia hummed in defiance, “I was the only one talking the entire ride so how can you say you’re excellent company when you didn’t even offer me the same courtesy of getting to know you?”

“That’s fair.” Harry chuckled, “But it’s also fair to give me a second chance of proving to you that I’m an immaculate company to have as I tour you inside my upcoming restaurant?”

The excitement in Sophia’s eyes is palpable upon the information, it’s as if she’s completely forgotten where Harry was taking her in the first place.

“So you’re a chef then?” Sophia asked as they made their way out of the car, Harry insisting on carrying all the grocery bags.

“Yeah, I think in a nutshell that’s what I am.” Harry replied, motioning with his hands for her to lead the way to the front door.

“What does that mean?” Sophia asked while walking, turning her head back to look at Harry which caused her to almost trip. “Oops.”

“Careful, lovely.” Harry worriedly instructed, the endearment easily falling from his lips without his consent. But instead of worrying about the girl’s reaction to his natural show of affection, Harry made his way to stand beside Sophia and help her up the stairs going to the front door with his free hand placed on the curve of her waist to make sure the clumsy girl does not fall.

“Sorry.” Sophia whispered, the quietness of her tone catching Harry’s eyes just as the same time he noticed the clear pinkness glowing on the top of her cheeks.

Harry himself is shining inside from making this pretty person blush just from a simple endearment. That’s a really good thing to remember then, that Sophia evidently likes pet names the same way Harry naturally loves spewing them to people he cares for. Isn’t that really quite convenient?

“No need to apologize.” Harry easily appeased her as he opened the door for the both of them to enter. “I completely understand why you wanted to ask a question bearing in mind that I truly am such a character one should know about that’s worth tripping for.”

The answering laugh from Sophia is all Harry needed to hear to feel appeased himself that the girl truly didn’t feel bad or embarrassed for almost tripping in front of him.

“Are you really this self-conceited?” Sophia asked, this time without the fear in Harry, that she might trip on her feet once more as Harry continued to glue himself by her side, guiding her in the very cluttered and half-built dining area of his restaurant.

“Not really, I say it’s more about having enough self-confidence and not about me being truly arrogant.” Harry honesty replied, finding no time to provide Sophia with flirty banter when he sees the way most of the builders are looking at the latter.

Harry felt the slight simmering irritation in his stomach, not liking for one bit how the builders he had hired literally stopped their work just to give Sophia a once over with their eyes. It’s disgusting knowing where their nasty minds can lead to. It’s no surprise that the urge to protect was unleashed from Harry, considerably pulling Sophia closer to him by gently placing her directly to his front while he wrapped both his arms protectively across her stomach, grocery bags dangling painfully on his wrist forgotten.

Harry felt the effect of their sudden change in proximity in Sophia’s body language as she stiffened her back at their first close touch. Harry didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable around him but her safety from the foul prying eyes these men are giving Sophia is Harry’s top priority as he quickly led Sophia to the protection of his kitchen.

Thinking Sophia did not appreciate Harry’s brash decision of essentially back-hugging her on their way to the kitchen, Harry quickly removed himself from being plastered from the petite woman’s back and discarded their baking goodies on the steel countertop. He was unsure if he was meant to apologize for compromising Sophia’s personal space or what but his worries were easily diminished when Sophia herself gravitated back to him.

Harry tried his best to not let his mind wander with rose-tinted glasses on the implication of Sophia standing far too closely by his side as she helped him to properly dispense their ingredients with her careful fingers treating the bag of flour and box of eggs with delicate care. They’re so close to one another that not only can Harry feel the soft material of Sophia’s fluffy sweater sliding against the side of his arm, but the girl’s floral perfume is wafted in Harry’s nostrils like a constant wisp of fresh summertime air.

They’re standing too close to each other that one wrong move, Harry’s hip can hit Sophia’s own which can result with the latter tumbling down on the spotless kitchen floors. In Harry’s humble opinion, it was only a precautionary measure when his arm snaked its way back to the curve of the small of Sophia’s back with his hand finding purchase on the dip of her waist. It’s all about ensuring Sophia’s safety from falling over, Harry does not want that to happen is all.

Sophia seemed to also share the same sentiments with Harry as she cozied her way up Harry’s melting heart with her sweater paws softly clutching the end of Harry’s shirt while gladly accepting Harry’s hold around her as she relaxed her body on his.

Sophia raised her head to look at Harry as she spoke, “So, you’re telling me you’re just a ‘chef in a nutshell’ when this beautiful kitchen is enough to tell me that you actually are one. This kitchen is clearly made for only a professional chef. ”

Harry chuckled at Sophia’s observation, trying to quell his smugness. “You like my kitchen, huh? I do say I am quite proud of it.”

It was a no brainer for Harry that the first section of his restaurant that must be done first is his kitchen. Not only is it the place where Harry can feel like completely himself as he cooked to all of his heart’s desire, but it’s the only place where he knows he truly feels a sense of belongingness. England will always be his home, but for someone who’s traveled most of his adult life, that feeling of home and having a home base has always been a missing factor in Harry’s chosen career path. It’s the familiarity of the kitchen that has been the constant one in Harry’s life. Harry knew it would make him feel loads better with this new big milestone in his journey if he had a fully equipped kitchen where he can just be.

It’s just the cherry on top that someone special to his eyes can also appreciate his comfort space.

“It truly is a marvelous kitchen, Harry.” Sophia repeated kindly with nothing but sincerity in both her voice and irises. “And it doesn’t really do anything with your attempt at being coy with me when I already know in the short time I’ve come to know you that you are nothing but a confident man. Why is being a chef suddenly stopping you from talking to me then?”

Well isn’t Sophia a smart one? “It’s because I’m kind of wary that I might actually sound like a cocky arsehole when I say what my career of being a chef truly entails.”

It seemed to be the right answer to further intrigue Sophia. “Now you’re just putting me in a cliffhanger. You don’t do that to your friends, Harry!”

Friends? Harry doesn’t know if he should be rejoicing about that or not. He hoped that their closeness emits some sort of love cocoon so that Sophia would also feel that attraction Harry is strongly harboring for her.

“It’s not even that big of a deal.” Harry said, already retrieving some bowls and measuring cups from the drawers he personally organized with Sophia still glued to his every move.

“It totally is if you haven’t even told me what you actually do for a living that enabled you to build something so beautiful.”

“I like how you think that I built this kitchen myself. It’s a real ego-booster, lovely.”

The instant pinking of Sophia’s cheek was an undeniable win on Harry’s side. Harry chuckled in slight surprise when Sophia went a step further and rubbed her cheek on the sleeve of his shirt, trying to hide her blushing mess on Harry’s bicep.

“Stop making me blush and stop changing the topic.” Sophia called him about making Harry chuckle deeper.

“Well stop turning all blushy and cute then!” Harry countered, laughing by now at Sophia’s reaction as the latter made a physical show of removing Harry’s hold on her as she grumbled her way transferring the contents of their ingredients in their own separate bowls.

Sophia wasn’t done with showing her displeasure at Harry though as he warned him. “I’m not going to allow you to join me to bake red velvet babies if you don’t start being honest with me right now.”

If Harry wasn’t enamored at everything Sophia, he would definitely have pulled a viscous Gordon Ramsay-esque cursing fit for someone technically disrespecting Harry in his own kitchen. Gatekeeping Harry from cooking is a very big sin in his books, which apparently has an exception from adorable people who are having a hard time folding their sweater paws so as to not get dirty by the cocoa powder.

Harry is nothing but endeared as he makes his way to help the struggling Sophia.

“Let me help you there, lovely.”

Sophia pouted at him, “Fine, but don’t bloody think you’re already in my good books.”

Her attempt at a menacing stare was just as intimidating as the fluffy cat video Harry saw on his phone late last night when said cat had gotten their water fountain turned off. But unlike the video he saw, Harry tried his best not to coo this time around or else Sophia might actually order Harry to get out of the kitchen. His kitchen or not, Harry would probably follow Sophia’s orders without any questions.

“If I tell you that I actually used to work with Gordon Ramsay for the majority of my adult life, would that be enough incentive to be back in your good graces?”

Sophia finished transferring the last egg in a bowl right before she almost dropped one after hearing what Harry had just said.

“You’re a chef for Gordon Ramsay?” Sophia rapidly asked, body rigid and alert.

“Up until last night I was.” Harry shrugged, “And for complete honesty, I really no longer am employed by him considering we’re in the restaurant I’m getting built.”

Harry ultimately frowned at Sophia who started to squeal in excitement, little paws grabbing Harry’s bicep in a thrilled squeeze.

“Why in the blooming world did you want to keep this awesome information from me?” Sophia avidly babbled.

Harry looked down at her in confusion. “Awesome? What’s awesome about what I said?”

“That you work for fluffing Gordon Ramsay!” Sophia replied in a ‘duh’ tone, undertones of eagerness present. “He’s like the most magical proponent of cooking and so blooming hilarious! I’d probably be peeing my pants if I were in your position who needs to be constantly in his presence.”

Typically, Harry is quite accustomed to these types of surprised reactions upon learning who Harry works for. Key word: typically.

It’s a completely different scenario when Harry is faced with someone that’s both exhibiting a reaction of surprise, glee-fullness, and ending their sentence with a dreamy sigh. A dreamy sigh?! Since when did his previous boss deserve that type of magical retort?

Harry felt the silhouette of the green monster of jealousy awakening within him. He prides himself for not being the jealous one in a relationship, always having utmost trust in his partners for that to even be an issue. Not that Sophia’s in a relationship with him, but it’s genuinely the first time he’s seen someone react this radiantly about such a mundane thing about him, about Gordon fucking Ramsay, that old man, really?!

Alright, Harry can be honest and say that he’s most definitely feeling the simmering of jealousy because he really fancies Sophia and here she is close to waxing lyrical about his old boss. Of all the people he’d encounter to get his dire love life back on track, it’s got to be someone from his past. And he’s not talking about an ex partner who he can just disregard as unimportant old news. Harry bets Sophia watches Ramsay on the regular, how can he be old news for her?

“He’s not that special, really.” Harry shrugged, tampering down his annoyance at even picturing that smug, teasing face of his previous boss which he often gives Harry whenever one of their line cooks gets ‘distracted’ by Harry’s luscious long curls.

“How can you say that?” Sophia gasped, “Surely we’re talking about the same Gordon Ramsay here.”

“I’m sure.” and Harry doesn’t want to divulge further than that. “He’s just loud and demanding is what it is. I’m pretty certain you can also comprehend that just from watching him on the telly.”

Sophia only narrowed her eyes at Harry for his dismissive tone. “You’re right, but that’s only a small part of why Gordon Ramsay is such a magnificent chef. Don’t you guys say it’s never good to be quiet in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, but Gordon’s just overbearingly loud. Trust me, he needs his executive chefs like myself to get him to calm down most of the time or else his kitchen would literally be on fire already with how much of a cruel devil he can be with the brigade.”

Harry said that statement as to scare Sophia, not make her stop on her tracks once more and give Harry moony eyes.

“Gosh, I’m not one for cursing or getting cursed at but, I’d even personally ask Gordon Ramsay to tell me the F word just to feel like I’m part of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“What the fuck?” Harry’s eyes widen, not missing the cheeky glint in Sophia’s cerulean boys.

“I said a cursing Gordon Ramsay, not you.”

Unintentionally, that last two words of Sophia’s tap directly on Harry’s growing jealousy.

“Can you stop saying his name?” Harry found himself asking sternly, not able to stop his mouth from blabbering even when Sophia visibly stiffened at his words. “You’ve said his name in your last five sentences while talking to me. Do you like him or something?”

The question is out in the open before Harry can even think better of it. He feels the embarrassment settle on the tips of his ears, eyes falling to the floor just waiting for Sophia’s painful reply as he moves to give both of them some distance. He feels like such an inexperienced wanker for getting jealous that easily.

Thinking that he should just probably apologize before Sophia inevitably rejects him, the latter closed the distance Harry previously gave them. She resumed her position in Harry’s close proximity, Harry’s hyperawareness indicating that Sophia’s much closer to him than before with the side of their bodies flushed together, fingertips resting on the kitchen counter with barely a sliver of space left before they’re touching.

“No, I don’t like him like that.” Sophia said in clarity, whispering her next words in the quiet of the room. “Why would you even think that?”

Harry shrugged, feeling Sophia’s curious stare at his side profile. “I don’t know? You just kept singing him praises so what was I supposed to think?”

Harry was still not returning Sophia’s gaze, though he can feel the incredulity in her stare.

“That I’ve watched the guy a bunch of times on the telly and I just find him so talented in his craft but not because I fancy him? What else was I supposed to talk with you about when all I know is that you’re generally a friendly guy who’s easy to be with that’s apparently a chef but does not want to expound on it further? Harry, what was I supposed to say?”

Now Harry feels downright foolish. “I’m sorry.” Harry finally returned Sophia’s gaze. “You’re right, I just wasn’t being a proper company like I promised and completely read your words the wrong way. I’m really sorry, love. Clearly it’s been a really long while since I’ve made a new human connection. I’m proper shit at it.”

Gone was the jealousy in Harry, replaced by a feeling of shortcoming at the pit of his stomach, lips painted with a self-deprecating smile.

“Hey, don’t say things like that about yourself.” Sophia frowned, dainty fingers now touching the spaces between Harry’s own, giving him a feather-light touch enough to diminish his negative aura.

“You might have made it difficult for me to think of any conversation starters that just aren't annoying small talk, but you’re not an awful company, Harry. Far from what you’re saying, actually. My best friend and I have sadly met a handful of those awful companies, and trust me, you’re not a poopyhead like them.”

That startled a laugh out of Harry. “Excuse me, did you just say, poopyhead?”

Despite the roll of eyes she gave in answer, Sophia still had a fond grin sitting pretty on her lips. “I’m not an advocate for cuss words, so I say stuff like those as a substitute. It’s not my fault they sound funny.”

Harry unintentionally snorted, “More like ridiculous.”

“Heyy!” Sophia whined as Harry found himself wrapping his arm back around Sophia’s body, pulling her pouting face on his strong hold like second nature. “You’re not making this easier for yourself. Don’t think that I’m already allowing you to help me bake my red velvet babies.”

“Our red velvet babies.” Harry cheekily retorted, smirk back on his face like he just didn’t lose faith on his own flirting skills just seconds ago. Now isn’t Sophia the magical one? Able to easily get Harry out of his untimely, self-deprecating funk?

“Only mine.” Sophia bit back. Even though her head is tilted upwards all adorably, Harry can still see the determination clear as day on her face.

“Ours, lovely. We’re both in my kitchen so it’s bound to be our red velvet babies.”

“Not if I kick you out, though.”

And again, how is Harry not going to allow her to do that?

Harry settled with an easy, carefree smile. “Alright, if that’s what you want. But, you have to say it to my face first.”

Harry might not have enough faith on his relationship building skills, but he’s quite certain that Sophia is the opposite. The girl’s too kind and lovely to be able to kick a new friend out of his own space.

Sophia looked conflicted for a second, blue orbs searching Harry’s face if he was kidding or not. Harry wasn’t and when Sophia realized that hard truth, she visibly softened in Harry’s arms.

“No, I can’t do that.” She confessed, “I might burn down your brand new kitchen if I was left alone here with my own baking skills, or lack thereof.”

Sophia didn’t say the last bit in a light of embarrassment like most people would do when they learn Harry is a chef and they want to impress him. Ironically, it’s Harry who wants to impress Sophia now after learning that new and highly beneficial fact about the girl.

“Good thing I’m a chef then, yeah?” Harry asked with newfound determination springing in his veins. “Now why don’t I start showing you how to make our red velvet babies while you tell me why you love them so much?”

Sophia didn’t say otherwise nor corrected Harry that it was still her red velvet babies. It’s such a silly little thing but it honestly made Harry feel really giddy as he helped Sophia make the cupcake batter like it’s something he’s doing again for the first time. He felt alive, in the most calm and serene way possible. Sophia’s rapt attention and gentle movements like a breath of fresh air for Harry. It’s been awhile since he’s felt the extreme need in him to share his special place with someone and to want them to have the best time with him out of it.

Sophia for her part seemed as content as Harry to be in the kitchen, voice soft and light as she shared with Harry her innate love for red velvet cupcakes while religiously following Harry’s gentle instructions on how to sift her dry ingredients. Harry grew more keen to teach Sophia his own red velvet cupcake recipe after learning that Sophia leaves and breathes the specific recipe of her best friend.

As a professional chef, he didn’t understand why people like Sophia and his sister Gemma could ever think that he doesn’t have the ability to change their opinion of their favorite dish. Sophia literally scoffed at him after suggesting the idea, endorsing that his recipe is approved by her beloved Gordon Ramsay.

“I don’t care.” Sophia stated simply, “I can’t betray my favorite red velvet babies just like that.”

“You haven’t even tried mine!” Harry protested good naturedly.

If Sophia didn’t look so angelic while she smiled up at Harry, he would have thrown a proper cocky fit. Sadly, it looked as if Harry would let the girl get away and stomp down on his ego all she wanted.

Harry can’t be mad at anything though, especially when Sophia was naturally returning all of Harry’s soft touches. Might it be Harry’s hand at the small of her back as he guided Sophia nearer to the edge of the countertop, Sophia squeezing his bicep to get his attention after he demonstrated how to crack an egg pouting that she wasn’t that unknowledgeable in cooking, Harry finding himself reaching over to wipe Sophia’s face with tender fingers after the girl clumsily turned on the mixing bowl while it was overflowing with their dry ingredients, and Sophia returning the favor after she had accidentally spilled some of the red food coloring on Harry’s hands.

They were in the middle of portioning their batter into its separate cupcake holders with Harry taking the lead and Sophia cleaning the edges as a final touch, when the latter asked a specific question.

“So what’s the occasion that made you want to bake cupcakes today? It’s for a special someone, huh?”

That alerted Harry, hands stopping their movements as he tilted his head to look directly at Sophia. He doesn’t know where the question came from so Harry couldn’t judge if Sophia avoiding his eyes meant anything.

He was unsure so he answered with another question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean..” Sophia began, trailing off looking as if she was carefully trying to select her next words. Harry doesn’t know if he should be nervous or what. “I mean that when we met earlier, you said you were there to buy ingredients for red velvet cupcakes. Cupcakes that you were going to bake for someone.”

Oh. Oh.

Sophia essentially had just asked him if she was seeing someone and Harry doesn’t know why he felt shy rather than smug.

He felt the apples of his cheeks turn warmer, “Uh nope. Not baking for someone cause I don’t necessarily have a someone to begin with.”

“Oh.” Sophia muttered, a tone of surprise swimming in just that one word before she’s rambling. “I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed because that’s awfully rude of anyone. I’m truly sorry, it isn’t my place to ask anything about that matter. I should have just let you tell me if you have only wanted of course, instead of running my bloody fluffball of a tongue. If you want, you can totally have all the red velvet cupcakes to yourself and-”

Harry couldn't help but interrupt Sophia’s adorable rambling with a deep melodious laugh, nose scrunching at Sophia’s flustered state.

“Fucking hell, you’re so cute.”

It’s such an honest statement that Harry didn’t have any sense of control to even prevent it, and didn't have the heart to curse himself when the situation turned even more cliché when Sophia and him locked eyes after he spoke, both of them with wide eyes and cherry red cheeks.

After a minute, the two were giggling like idiots.

“I can’t believe you just asked if I was dating someone so randomly.” Harry teased, both of them returning to their task at hand.

“I said I was sorry.” Sophia mumbled embarrassedly, forehead dropping on Harry’s shoulder as the latter continued to chuckle in delight.

“You don’t really have anything to be sorry for, but I think it’s only fair that I’m offered the same opportunity to ask the same thing.”

Harry felt the way Sophia caught her breath with her head remaining nestled comfortably at the dip of his neck and shoulder. He already loves how innately tactile Sophia is.

“No someone.” Sophia quietly replied, Harry almost missing it only for the fact that he honestly felt her words engraving it’s way on skin making him feel warm and gooey at the information.

“Good.” Harry found himself replying, attuned to Sophia’s smile as the girl wordlessly nuzzled her button nose in Harry’s neck even further.

And that’s how they finished arranging their red velvet cupcakes. Not with Sophia clumsily dropping the cupcake molds even before it reaches the oven, nor was it with Harry fighting his way to prove to Sophia that his recipe is way superior than anything she’s tasted before after offering the kind girl the first taste of their red velvet babies.

No, that’s not what happened.

Harry was simply content eating his cupcake on the right hand, left hand rasped tightly by the girl from the baking aisle.

*~*~*

“Babe, can you please sit down with me and relax?”

That should have made Gemma stop from pacing their living room, but it’s probably the fifth time her lovely boyfriend has said the same thing to her albeit with different words. The point still remained though: Gemma needs to relax ASAP.

“I am relaxed, what are you talking about?!” Gemma all but snarled in the quiet of their freshly cleaned space all decked-out and ready for the night’s special festivities.

“Yes you’re relaxed and you definitely did just not scream at me.” Michal replied with an air of sarcasm which Gemma believed she deserved as she paused her movements.

“I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean to be difficult, I’m just getting really nervous about tonight.”

It’s the first time Gemma admitted it out loud, typically a stubborn woman who doesn’t want to seem she doesn’t have everything under control. Michal, being her amazing boyfriend who's used to every mood she could be in, slowly stood-up from his position on their couch to stand beside Gemma and hold her hands in his.

“I understand that the fear of not being the perfect host tonight is looming over you especially since it’s H’s first time to join us in your infamous wine night. But what I don’t get is why you’re this bothered by it; he’s just brother, love. Harry would be the last one to genuinely talk shit about you that goes beyond siblings teasing each other.”

Gemma controlled the groan of frustration trying to break free from her. “Babe, you don’t understand.”

Michal, the ever patient, “Then help me try to understand so I can help you calm down.”

And this is why Gemma bought a house with him. The man has the ability to let her pride down so easily around him and admit that not everything is a task she can handle alone.

Ironically, it’s somewhere between those lines on why her best friend canceled on her with just a day’s notice. Gemma glared at just the thought of it as she bounced herself on the couch to appease her boyfriend.

“Ugh!” Gemma groaned, fingers coming-up to rub her temples. “I just feel it in my gut that something bad is bound to happen tonight. Not only did Soph cancel on such a special night, but H is also bringing some girl with him that he barely even knows. Wine Nights at Gemma’s is such a prestigious occasion and my baby brother is inviting someone who he hasn’t even spent a week with to know yet! Tell me how all that doesn’t sound so disastrous?”

Saying it out loud was both relieving to the tensions that grew in Gemma’s veins, but also bloody terrifying how her fears suddenly sounded far too real now.

Gemma blamed it all at the first phone call she received from Harry early afternoon yesterday. A phone call that truly made Gemma almost threw her phone against her office wall after hearing what his brother was planning.

“Did you seriously just say what I thought you did?” Gemma clarified, phone clutched tight on her ear, feeling the slowly growing alarm within her.

“Yes, Gemma.” Harry simply replied, all calm and collected on the other line as he continued with the words that threw Gemma in the middle of a hysterical fit.

“She’s my person, Gem. She’s the type of girl you put a ring on.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Gemma hissed, completely caught-off guard. “I didn’t even know you’ve met anyone in your first week back in London, and now you’re thinking of fucking proposing already? What the fuck happened to you in the past three days?!”

The next hour that transpired was one of the most bizzare moments in Gemma’s whole existence. Not only was she startled that Harry actually talked to her for that long over the phone, gone was his usual slow drawl replaced instead by an up-beat, excited step on his voice. The most surprising and downright concerning thing about all of it is that Harry wore Gemma’s ears off with all the stories of his past few days concerning this stranger of a girl her brother has met on the baking aisle of Waitrose.

“In the baking aisle, are you bloody serious now?” Gemma’s face twisted unfavorably at how Harry sighed almost dreamily in confirmation.

“And you wouldn’t believe how in that moment alone, the universe already manifested in front of my eyes how perfect we are for each other!”

Universe..manifest? Since when did her brother start speaking Gemma’s language of crystals, manifestations, and the power of the universe? If she could, Gemma would have reached across the line of her phone to shake her brother’s shoulders and ask where the fuck did he hide her real brother who doesn’t speak in flowery words let alone about love!

Gemma wasn’t privileged enough to have that opportunity with Harry going off with the end of his story that included red velvet cupcakes and this entire baking sequence complete with innocent, wandering touches that ultimately ended with the two of them eating their baked cupcakes while cuddled together already talking about new plans to do.

Harry gushed that it was the most unique and cutest meet-cute ever. Gemma made sure to burst his bubble and said it was the cliché shit Harry himself hated in romance films.

“Why does it sound like you’re not being happy for me?” Harry asked, the unmistakable tone of creeping sadness evident.

Gemma sighed, not wanting to be that type of sister who becomes overbearing and overprotective of their brother when it comes to romantic partners. Gemma always prided herself for being an open-minded woman who gives people chances no matter how undeserving they are sometimes.

“H, you have to understand that my hesitancy in rejoicing with you only stems from the fact that these all just sound so crazy.”

“Crazy? In which part of me finally meeting the girl I want to pursue and spend my life with in the near future is insane?”

Gemma groaned, keeping-in her smartarse retort already at the tip of her tongue. “That sentence alone sounds bloody bizarre to me, Haz! I’m truly ecstatic for you that you easily found a connection with someone considering mum and I have been telling you to settle down for ages already. But, we didn’t tell you to do all that in one go. You’re ready to marry someone you’ve only met for three days, that doesn’t sound so safe and wise coming from your sister who’s the more reckless one between the Styles siblings. I don’t want you to take my crown on that, H.”

Relief slowly washed the expanding panic in her system when Harry broke into a laugh after Gemma’s honest speech. It only lasted for a while though because Harry decided to open his big mouth and continue his earlier crazy narrative despite Gemma’s wishes.

“Gem, call me crazy all you want but fucking sue me if love hadn’t changed my perspective in life! I don’t give a bloody care if I’ve only known my person for barely a week, she’s my person, Gem. That’s enough rationality for me to want to go to the nearest Cartier boutique and fucking drop on one knee! Besides, I think you’re underestimating your little brother’s game. The last few days with her were all spent with me wooing her, let me tell you all about it.”

Wooing? Did her brother seriously just say that?

No answers were needed for such a stupid question when Gemma proceeded to be on the special screening of Harry Styles’ one man show of wooing splendor. Mind you, Gemma didn’t even sign up for this, Harry quite literally dragged her ears off once more as he vividly retold his past few dates.

Instead of saying that it’s quite excessive to have three consecutive dates in the first week of meeting, Gemma deserves a clap on the back for holding back her tongue as she complimented Harry’s choice of making a six-tier red velvet cake for a movie night at the girl’s place.

Talk about a bloody extra wooer.

“It was our second date, well technically the first one but I’d like to say our meet-cute was our perfect first date.” Harry said in that same tone of excitement that had never left his voice since the moment Gemma picked-up her phone.

“So I wanted to make a lasting impression that I truly value whatever she tells me. It made absolute sense that I baked her a cake, and not just any cake, Gems. But a red velvet cake! My person loves red velvet, she adores it so much that she even has red velvet cupcakes shaped pillows! Isn’t that adorable, Gem?”

Adorable? More like pretty obsessed. Besides, Gemma already knows someone who’s also obsessed with anything red velvet. If she knew Harry would be so tickled about a person that is so into red velvet, then Gemma would have said that fact about Sophia from the get-go. Her best friend lives and breathes red velvet, too bad Harry had already ruined any chances to see that.

It was clear that Harry only had her eyes on this girl. He pretty much gushed to Gemma that in their movie night, he couldn’t offer any drop of concentration in the Harry Potter film they were watching. Voldemort was rising back from the dead and there Harry was, eyes more fascinated at the girl’s side profile all throughout the movie. Gemma might have not faulted her brother there for a fetus Voldemort is nothing but creepy, except that Harry continued his story by saying that the moment Cedric Diggory died, was also the moment he decided to kiss his person.

Gemma was appalled. “Seriously? In that moment of the film? You couldn’t even keep it in your mouth until the movie ended and instead stuck your tongue down the poor girl’s throat at the most unromantic part of the film? Actually, why in the world are you two watching Harry Potter on a movie date? I taught you better than that, Harold.”

“I wanted to save her from the dreadful part of the movie, Gemma.” Harry exclaimed, like it made perfect sense. “I wanted to replace the bad memory of Cedric Diggory dying with the magical moment of our first kiss. And just so you know, I did not give her a french kiss. I’m a gentleman, Gemma. It’s all about gentle lips and innocent nips.”

Gemma would rather talk about anything but kissing with her brother so she had no choice but to prompt Harry about their third date. Best believe Harry turned to the topic change like a puppy chasing a stick.

“We had a lovely picnic at Hyde Park where we watched the sunset go down.” Harry released a dreamy sigh afterwards, “It’s not the first time I prepared food for someone, or either is it the first instance I was able to watch the sunset disappear with someone I care about. But Gemma, that afternoon was the most surreal experience of my existence. I felt so content just being able to sit there on the picnic blanket, cuddled with her. I felt so vibrant that I was able to hold her against me, to have my fingers interlocked with hers, that I was able to just angle my head slightly and be able to reach her lips whenever I wanted to. I’ve never felt this happy in awhile.”

Now that’s something; Gemma has never heard her little brother talk in such light. It was so new to Gemma’s ears that it was successful enough to stow her worries about the girl away for a minute and instead be genuinely thrilled for her brother about meeting someone that makes him feel happy.

It was because of this mood that Gemma didn’t have it in her to question Harry’s decision of having her wine night as their third date. At that moment, she felt more honored than anything. And come today, she’s on the brink of full on panic.

“Babe, I’m quite certain that nothing of disastrous proportions will happen tonight.” Michal assured Gemma in the present, “H won’t bring just anyone to meet you, so we just have to trust his word that the girl is really special for him.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Gemma groaned.

“I know,” Michal sympathized like the caring boyfriend that he is. “But I’m going to be here the entire night to help you calm down when you need it.”

Gemma doesn’t want to sound mean but she knows Michal’s used to her frankness by now. “You’re not that good at calming me down, love. Only Soph can completely bring me out of my panicked state. And too fucking bad she can’t make it tonight.”

Gemma can’t help but feel bitter, especially now recalling the phone call she got that same night after Harry had turned her afternoon in a complete 360 degree turn.

Gemma was in the right mood to rant to her best friend about bunny H’s craziness when she saw Sophia calling on her phone after her dinner that night. Who would have thought that Sophia only added to the loco of her brother.

“You’re not coming?!” Gemma screeched in greeting when Sophia opened their call saying her plans have changed for Friday night, meaning she can’t make it to the special Wine Nights at Gemma’s. How preposterous?

“Yes, that’s just what I said.” The sigh that followed Sophia’s confirmation conveyed her personal dislike for bringing this news to her best friend. Gemma at least felt a little bit comforted that Sophia was quite remorseful for her news unlike someone’s brother.

Gemma let out a sigh of her own, more for her own thinning patience in life than anything else. “For the love of everything holy, will you tell me what the heck has taken place for you to bail on me this Friday? You know how special this wine night is going to be for me, love.”

“I know,” Sophia reaffirmed softly, “and I’m truly sorry that I have to skip it. I swear, once you meet my sweeter-than-Ramsay chef, you’ll be completely on my side. I can’t just say no to our fourth date cause he might think I’m not being serious about him or something.”

If it was possible, the world stopped to a screeching halt when Sophia’s words came barreling in Gemma’s already jumbled and frazzled brain.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Is what Gemma screeched in reply, heart truly racing at the onslaught of things that she’s learning about today. “What is it with everyone in my life today deciding to fucking turn my axis with curveballs that are bound to make be bloody crazy! Do you want to send me to the A&E or something?!”

Gemma knew she was overreacting, but she can’t help to just let it all out when her single brother from days ago is now writing his own meet-cute romance movie even though he despises every single one that Gemma made him watch, and now her best friend for life is suddenly telling Gemma she’s practically ditching her wine night for a boy, specifically, with her sweeter-than-Ramsay chef.

Gemma’s frustration is justified (and brewing panic), thank you very much. Good thing Sophia is the only person who can successfully calm Gemma down with the gentle tone of her voice alone.

“Hey, calm down, everything’s alright.” Sophia’s soft voice allowed Gemma to release the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “No one wants to send anyone to the A&E, babe. I might have impulsively sprung a big news to you, and I’m sorry for that. But we should all just relax, it’s not that much of a big deal.”

That made Gemma release a laugh of pure disbelief. “Not a big deal? You literally just informed me that you now have a man that rather competes with your favorite tv chef mogul. Sorry for freaking the fuck out, but weren’t you just single last Friday?”

The sarcasm in Gemma’s tone only slightly makes her feel bad for giving her best friend some of it. Besides, Sophia herself knows she deserves it knowing how blunt Gemma can be.

“Well, a lot can happen in one week.” was Sophia’s sad excuse of a reply.

Gemma snorted, “Yeah, a lot can happen in a week that’s worth more than just your lousy reply. Come on, Soph. How can you not tell me this right after you realized the dick that you found was that good?”

“Gemma!” Sophia squawked, “We haven’t had sex yet, bloody furball! We’ve just met this week and been on three dates. It was so out of the blue and new that I genuinely didn’t even think of telling you this early on.”

“And yet you’re telling me right now, mind you, that you’re also dumping me over this recent dick you found. Should I be offended?”

“Can we stop referring to him as a dick?” Sophia sighed in apparent exasperation, making Gemma smirk at eliciting a reaction out of her.

“Actually, I wasn’t calling this mystery man of yours a dick like in a mean way. It’s more like, I’m referring to his actual junk and your relation to it.”

Gemma believed that stupid utterance was worth it for the way Sophia had actually groaned in pure agony at the end of the line. Gemma can picture her best friend looking all flushed and uncomfortable from her crass words.

“This isn’t about getting laid, Gems.”

“The frustration in your tone begs to differ. Maybe you do need to get acquainted with mystery man’s dick already.”

“Gemma Styles!” The laughter that bubbled in Sophia’s indignant exclamation of her full name made Gemma trust that her best friend is not annoyed at her apparent teasing remarks. It’s what Sophia deserved for keeping this vital information from her.

“Alright, I’ll stop.” Gemma chuckled, “Be thankful that you’re only getting my crude teasing as punishment for breaking out best girl pal code.”

“What code are you talking about?”

Now it was Gemma’s turn to let out an exasperated sigh. “Our best girl pal code of: ‘I’ll solemnly tell my best friend about any dick I found. May it be the dick that would whisk me away to my happily ever after, or the dick that can bring me to cloud nine just for a night.’

Sophia chuckled, Gemma clearly picturing her shaking her head. “I can never forget such fluffing stupid code if it existed, I can assure you that. But babe, seriously though, I’m sorry for having to rush this news to you, over the phone no less! If I wasn’t just so nervous about our next date, I would have gotten to plan and meet you over dinner or something. But that’s out of the picture now, and I’m meeting his sister tomorrow already and I don’t want to mess up.”

If Sophia was known to be the one that can successfully calm Gemma down, it’s only a perfect fit like everything in their friendship that Gemma is also capable of returning the favor. So that’s what she did, easing comforting words to Sophia’s ear that enabled her flustered best friend to slowly untangle her worried thoughts.

“I just want to be the perfect girl for him, you know?” Sophia shared in full sincerity, “He’s so different from all the men I’ve met before, Gems. Different in the best way possible in the way that he’s managed to remove my fears about commitment and the idea of depending on someone.”

That made Gemma whistle in interest. “Now that’s a big feat. And he’s managed to do that in barely a full week?”

“Yes.” Sophia’s single confirmation was also laced with a tone of surprise like that Gemma is feeling. “I barely know him but he makes me want to try. To try and explore this undeniable connection we’ve stumbled upon. He’s so fluffing sweet, Gems, takes everything I tell him to heart. He makes me feel so warm with just a single glance, his soft touch makes me feel alive. I haven’t something this strong, and so natural with anyone.”

Sophia’s words were raw and completely honest, successfully making Gemma’s own heart warm at the growing bliss she feels for her best friend. If there was anyone in Gemma’s life that deserves all the love in the world, that’s Sophia. Self-less, solicitous, sweet, Sophia. She’s the triple S deal here and any guy with a real heart can detect that.

And as Sophia continued to share her cavity-inducing sweet recollections of her past few days, Gemma is slowly getting the glaring hint that this mystery chef man is one of the few sensible men living who knew they hit the goldmine with only the first glimpse of Sophia’s blushing cheeks. Gemma doesn’t know if she should feel relieved that Sophia seemed to have met her perfect match, or absolutely devastated that her best friend and brother are on the same path of love exploration but not with each other.

“Well there goes my aspiring cupid career.” Gemma sighed in slight defeat after Sophia told her that her mystery man chef is taking her to his sister’s dinner party that’s why Sophia had to ditch her.

Sophia chuckled. “Babe, I’m sure your brother H would still appreciate your help on the love department, or something.”

“Yeah, or something.” Gemma snorted. “Would you believe it if I told you that he actually called me first than you, but said the exact same things you just told me.”

A few beats pass with silence on both ends of the line before Gemma thinks Sophia had finally digested her words.

“Holy fluffball! Are you for real?” Sophia said in surprise, which Gemma isn’t sure if she’s happy or annoyed about.

“So fucking serious.” Gemma deadpanned, “Just like you, met a girl sometime this week and spent the remaining going on dates with her. And knowing how truly perfect you two are for each other, it’s not a surprise that just like you again, he didn’t want to tell me the name of the unlucky people you’ve both captivated in the fear that I’d search their socials and act all psycho-loco.”

Sophia replied with a loud laugh, the audacity of that woman. “Wouldn’t blame your brother one bit.”

“Oh you cheeky bugger. Or should I say, cheeky fucker? Since you need to get it on with this mystery chef man of yours when I can seriously feel the sexual frustration all the way from here.”

“I’m really going to hang-up on you if you don’t stop talking about intercourse.”

“Oh my god, you really need to get laid if you can’t even say the word sex without being in the brink of planning to maul your chef man.”

“Gemma!” Sophia hissed in a laugh with her, “No one is going to maul anyone, get your head out of the gutter for the love of christ.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who acted all territorial on the man when a few women were checking him out on your guy’s park date. The fact that he even verbally affirmed you that he likes your possessiveness and even made sure to lock you on his lap to even further deliver the message, all bloody screams extreme, flammable, sexual tensions.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that bit.”

Amen to that. If Sophia thinks she can get away from Gemma’s unrelenting teasing words about her new-found lovelife, then she’s completely got it coming for her. Not only is it payback time for all the times Sophia has done the exact same thing to her when Michal and Gemma were only starting their relationship, but it’s also a stepping stone for Gemma to corrupt Sophia to become more of a sexy vixen who’s comfortable with her body. God knows she’ll combust herself in sexual frustration if the next stories she hears from Sophia are about her and just making out under the stars with sweet chef man.

And now that Gemma thinks about it as she lets the simmering panic for her wine night to cool down, Sophia better have some spicy deets to share to her after flourishingly leaving Gemma in her own devices to meet her brother’s new beau.

Speaking of which, the resounding doorbell in her house makes Gemma certain that she had just summoned the bunny herself.

“Should I get that first while you calm down here?” Michal asked, the ever considerate one.

“I think we should do it together, rip off the band aid style.”

Michal smirked at Gemma’s growing bravery. “Of course, the only style Gemma Styles knows how to rock.”

Accepting Michal’s waiting hands, Gemma stood up beside her corny boyfriend as she tried to channel every bit of valor she could get before she faced the inevitable whirlwind couple waiting for them at the end of the door.

Too bad she didn’t prepare well enough for the most loco surprise of her life that no band aid can ever mend.

*~*~*

“Baby, relax, will you?”

Sophia’s wandering nervous thoughts were placed to a halt when she felt Harry’s large hand finding purchase on the meat of her bare thigh as he reached across the console of his car while driving. The sweet gesture, if anything, only increased Sophia’s heightened nervousness at meeting Harry’s sister and her longtime boyfriend at their home.

Ever since her phone call from Gemma last night, Sophia had been on the edge being hyper aware of Harry’s soft touches analyzing if there’s an actually sexual tension between the two of them. The answer was apparently plain and simple because the moment Harry picked her up for their date looking so fluffing good in his floral suit, Sophia felt the caress of his long curly locks hitting her cheeks as he kissed her in greeting all the way to her core.

So not only is she nervous that she might embarrass herself in front of Harry’s sister due to her clumsiness, but now Sophia also needs to keep herself in-check all night long before she inevitably mounts on Harry’s lap and staking her claim on his neck in front of his sister and all her other friends. Thank you for that, Gemma Styles.

“I am relaxed.” Sophia softly replied, folding her hand with his in a vain attempt to not direct herself Harry’s hand to linger upwards than just the expanse of her thigh.

“I may have only taken you to three dates so far, but lovely, I take quite an offense that you think I’m not able to detect your nervous tells. Actually, you make it easy for me cause you do it a lot around me.”

“Oh here’s Mr. Cocky gracing me with his presence again.” Sophia chuckled in sarcasm, Harry giving their connected hands with a squeeze.

“C for confidence, baby. Don’t go mistaking it. Besides, you do that exact same pouting lips and furrowed brows combo like right now when we watched Goblet of Fire and you were preparing for Robert Patinson’s death.”

Actually, Sophia was nervous during that time because she was discreetly looking at Harry from her peripheral vision trying to keep her cool from attacking him with kisses. The unknowing innocent man was cuddled close to Sophia with his eyes trained on the laptop screen, seemingly engrossed with his kissable pink lips that are in-between the pads of his thumb and index finger. Sophia was nervy because she’s never felt that unyielding urge to kiss someone, the fact that it would be their first kiss too screams volumes. Thank everything holy though that Harry was the one who made the first move with all his gentle kisses or else, Sophia would have traumatized him if she pounced on him with tongue and teeth from the get-go.

“Or that time on our third date when you did the same signs cause you were nervous what people in the park would think when they saw the two of us with you straddling my waist like an adorable baby koala.”

Also known as the possessive Sophia slip-up which was a rather beneficial occurrence than that of a disaster. Sophia honestly thought that the moment she hissed like a flipping cat to the fifth woman who gave Harry the full head to toe sweep like it totally didn’t look like the two of them were on a date (cue the picnic set-up and interlocked hands, ehem!) Harry would not want to do anything with her anymore.

Who wants a possessive girl on the third date, anyway? The previous Gordon Ramsay protege beside her apparently, who proceeded to tell her: ‘I live for women who get territorial about me’ like it was the most appropriate answer to give. For Harry maybe it was, but for Sophia? That verbal confirmation which answered all her relationship concerns from the past, only made her nervous that there might be a fat chance that the wetness that pooled on her panties as a result from Harry’s honest words would leave a stain on Harry’s jeans when the latter didn’t give her any opportunity to escape the confines of his stronghold with her stuck on his lap.

“Oh! The best example would be after our first ever date. You cannot deny that you were pouting at me with the crumbs of our red velvet babies coating your plump lips with furrowed brows looking all nervous that I won’t ask you for another date.”

Now that one was spot on. “Can you blame me though? I didn’t even know us baking that afternoon was a date in the first place.”

“Of course it was,” Harry argued like all the times Sophia questioned it, “I never bring anyone, let alone girls, to my kitchen without it being a special situation which in our case, was a date. Also, I’m not a stupid twat that would let the girl of my dreams get away from me when I already caught you at the baking aisle.”

“You’re being cheesy again.” Sophia mumbled, rolling her eyes at the grinning driving man despite the resurgence of the pink flush on her cheeks.

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry shrugged and gave Sophia the smirk she’s definitely slowly falling in love with. “It made you forget about whatever was making you nervous, and look, we’re literally in my sister’s subdivision and you didn’t even bat an eye.”

That made Sophia take a sharp breath. “Way to remind me again then! I told you to tell me when we’re near so I can fix my makeup before we meet her.”

Harry just laughed at Sophia’s misfortune as the latter scrambled to find her compact and other makeup essential in her tiny bag to retouch.

“Because I told you, there’s no need for that. You already look more gorgeous than anyone there tonight, including my sister.”

“Harry!” Sophia chastised, giving Harry a side-glare in the middle of applying a layer of gloss. “You can’t say stuff like that or your sister would kick the two of us out. I want her to like me, alright?”

That now earned Sophia a glare as Harry replied in full conviction, “Baby, my sister’s going to like you because you’re an amazing person inside and out. She’s not blind to kind people, and if she suddenly decided to not like you for whatever insane reason, it wouldn’t matter to me. I’m the one pursuing you to be constant in my life, not her.”

Sophia almost ruined her skirt by dropping an open tube of lip gloss to it, thank bloody furball she caught it by mere seconds. “Again, you can’t just say things like that!”

“Things like what?” Harry had the audacity to laugh even louder as he suddenly turned the engine off his car. It was only the moment that Sophia realized the two of them were actually already in their destination and here she was, on the brink of extreme panic by not being completely prepared yet.

With still an open-lid tube of lip gloss raised on one hand, Sophia looked at an amused Harry with wide eyes. “We’re at your sister’s place already?” she whispered like said sister would actually hear her fear.

“Yup.” Harry nodded as cool as a breeze as his big hands reached for the gloss on Sophia’s hands. “Now, didn’t I also tell you that it would only be pointless to apply more gloss when we’re going to be drinking wine all night. Besides, I’d be snogging you too and I don’t want to eat gloss, thank you very much.”

At that point, Sophia had her jaw drop to the floor of the car as she sat unmoving on the passenger seat. “I don’t think I could do this.”

“Sure you can.” Harry easily replied, returning the closed lip gloss in Sophia’s bag all the while unaware of the burning turmoil Sophia was facing. “I don’t think I have to repeat it again and again that it’s only dinner with my sister and her boyfriend and friends. It’ll just make you nervous if I say it all like that.”

How can Sophia tell Harry that not only is she nervous about gaining his sister’s acceptance over dinner but that too of her own desire to snog Harry senseless after he made that comment without sounding like a delusional (and horny..) person?

Before Sophia could ask for help from the gods, Harry took it upon his own hands and seemed to move at the speed of light in Sophia’s static position and the next thing she knew, Harry was already opening her door for her like the chivalrous man she’s grown to know in the past few days. No matter how much her brain is telling her to start panicking in a serious fashion, one look at Harry’s dimples makes her want to fight otherwise.

Holy fluffball, those two craters are lethal to her heart.

Harry proceeded to bend down and place a soft pec on Sophia’s slightly parted lips, leaving a gentle bite to her plump bottom flesh before their connection was separated.

“You’re ready.” Harry affirmed rather than asked. Usually, Sophia is annoyed with people who are straight out bossy and telling her what to do without her consent. But in that moment, Sophia was rather turned-on at Harry’s assertiveness more than anything else.

Sophia found herself nodding her head cause apparently her body is a traitor who’s easily susceptible to dimples and pure confidence. And speaking of a betrayal, everything in Sophia seemed to have forgotten all her pressing worries just from minutes ago as Harry successfully led her out of the safety of his vehicle. Blaming it further on Harry’s hypnotizing touch around her waist, Sophia literally had not looked around her surroundings to even have a clue of what Harry’s sister’s place looked like.

Harry just flashed her a comforting smile before he rang the doorbell, giving Sophia no time to chicken out.

“You’re amazing,” Harry suddenly told her, further pulling Sophia in the blanket of his sweet eyes.

“You’re amazing.” Sophia couldn’t help but argue plainly when her English vocabulary seemed to be missing somewhere between Harry’s honey-dripping words and her easily hooked body and soul.

Harry chuckled, “Baby, don’t start an argument you can’t win, especially when my sister’s seconds away from ruining our flirting moment.”

His odd bluntness made Sophia laugh, all bright and loud that she didn’t hear the first ring of a highly familiar voice opening the door. To say Sophia almost broke her neck from turning it so fast to take a look at the culprit of that sound, was a complete understatement. The fact that Sophia’s head was still connected to her neck, allowed her the perfect opportunity to scream her lungs out in pure horror at seeing the last person she could ever expect at the end of that door.

“What the fuck?!” Gemma Styles screeched, all pairs of eyes exchanging between her and a screaming Sophia.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Sophia said back without thinking, totally past any coherent thought.

Since swearing is so against Sophia’s whole being, both Gemma and Michal were stunned into their place at the open door with their jaws slacked open. The same thing can’t be said with Sophia’s date beside her whose arm had considerably tightened his hold around her midsection.

“What the fuck is happening?” Harry said in the most steely voice known to earth that takes no room for any bull poop. His usually soft radiating green orbs have turned cold and hard as it locked its gaze on Gemma. “Did you pull your illegal ninja shit again so you could get intel on who I was dating?”

“Illegal ninja crap?” Sophia repeated in shock with her eyes looking at a gaping Gemma. “What in the world is he talking about?!”

“Nothing!” Gemma dismissed quickly, “He’s talking about nothing!” Gemma returned Harry’s hard eyes in a freakishly twin-like manner. “What did I say about accusing me of being a nosy shit?”

“Cause you're a nosy shit! It completely explains why you know my date!” Harry let out loudly before saying the last thing anyone would ever think he would say. “If you’re clearly telling the truth now, don’t tell me Sophia was the girl you tried to mess with back in your experimenting uni days that warranted her getting cursed tonight. Don’t you dare think I forgot about the girl you fucked and ended up getting disappointed cause you couldn’t get her to orgasm; it’s not her fault or Sophia’s fault for that matter for your lousy skills.”

“You fucked a girl without telling me?” Sophia found herself saying, borderline insulted to a flushing red Gemma who was sending death glares at Harry. “How could you not tell me that?! I could have helped you practice so that poor girl could have had a good time!”

The words were out of her mouth before Sophia could even have a semblance of care and thought at the words she said. Michal laughed rambunctiously with his body bent in half at the sheer volumes of it, while Gemma and Harry had just looked at Sophia like she lost the plot.

She might as well have when she retreated back in her mind regarding her previous statement.

“Now what the fuck is really happening?” Harry asked in total confusion, boggled eyes searching for answers from anyone. Sophia was just in the same boat to be honest.

Thankfully Gemma stepped in before any mayhem could have taken place. But, just like Sophia’s earlier regrets about not thinking before speaking, maybe she spoke too soon about being grateful that someone could finally give her answers. Gemma’s red painted lips are twisted upwards in the most smug grin Sophia has seen on her best friend; it screamed trouble from miles away.

“Well, would you look at that!” the woman that was slowly turning to the evil witch to Sophia’s eyes cackled, “I guess I am a super cupid and all!”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked once more as realization slowly dawned its way inside Sophia (if slowly resembled a bucket of ice water pouring down on her) as Gemma continued to pierce the two of them with that cruel knowing look.

“Oh jesus.” Sophia muttered when Michal’s confirming nod thrown her way could have been any indication. Sophia was once more on the brink of cursing when the man beside her had only expressed his confusion again.

It’s no surprise that his blunt and impatient sister took reign once more. “Haz, your person is my Sophia too.”

The ever hard headed replied, “No, she isn’t. She’s mine.”

Everyone else totally did not do a facepalm at his possessive remark.

“I’m not saying she’s my romantic soulmate, you twat!” Gemma chastised. “What I mean is she’s my Sophia from uni.”

It was hard to watch the exchange unfold when Harry dumbly repeated, “Sophia from uni…like your best friend you’ve been trying to set me up with?”

Gemma didn’t even have to reply verbally, just a single raise of her perfectly sculpted brow with that gloating tint to her irises had directly hit Sophia and Harry’s utter stupidity straight in the head bursting it into pieces.

The next thing Sophia knew, Harry jumped out of his hold on her. He looked at Sophia with eyes as big as saucers, that gorgeous mouth opening then closing in barely a second, clearly lost for words to say. “You’re sunflower…” is what he settled for bringing momentary confusion to Sophia.

It clicked quickly to her though, eyes moving sideways to give Gemma an amused face. “Sunflower? You couldn’t have set my alias to my favorite flower? Well at least it wasn’t as ridiculous as what you gave him.”

That made Harry more verbal, “What did she tell you to call me?”

Sophia was no way near apologetic at the well pleased look she gave him in return, “Bunny H.”

“Bunny H?!” Harry exclaimed in near hysterics, the calm and composed (and cocky?) chef Sophia was beginning to warm up real good to was suddenly gone. “Can you have honestly given me a much more ridiculous name, Gemma?”

“I thought it was cute!” Gemma defended in laughter.

“I said you wouldn’t like it.” Michal assured Harry who was slowly coming back to his usual collected self starting with returning to Sophia’s orbit with his securing arm wrapping itself around her once more.

“I certainly like you more now mate than my sister.”

Gemma scoffed, “I’m not offended if that’s what you think.”

“Sure you’re not.” Harry easily affirmed, “You just had my girl tell you that she’s game to practice bedroom skills if you ever want to hit on another girl. I don’t think anyone would be easily offended at anything after having that once in a lifetime offer.”

Would it be possible to leave these guffawing idiots and head straight back home? Sophia thinks no amount of wine she would drink tonight will be enough to suffice the burning embarrassment she gained due to her blabbering tendency.

“Aww, baby, I’m just messing with you.” Harry softly assured Sophia who conveniently molded herself into Harry’s front, hiding her flushing face inside the lapels of his floral suit.

“Aren’t the two of you adorable?” Gemma cooed, making Harry snicker, “See? If the two of you have taken your respective head out of your arses and agreed to my credible cupid ways much sooner, the two of you won’t just be calling each other baby, you’d already have babies of your own by now.”

“Who said that too isn’t far from now?”

Harry’s cheeky reply made Gemma gasp audibly, Sophia craning her neck to look at her best friend while remaining comfortably nestled on Harry’s torso.

“Don’t you even joke about that.” Gemma said in a serious fashion before catching Sophia’s rolling eyes that seemed to make her remember something. “Oh! Why am I even getting concerned when someone here is clearly not getting any action when all I see in their aura is sexual frustrations.”

Sophia doesn’t know if she should feel offended, or grateful that the people dear to her know her too well (too too well) when every single pair of eyes gazed down at her as if Gemma called her out which she should have just done if this was the result.

Sophia decided to draw the line there. “I’m not going to talk about sex with any of you when I’ve already done enough damaged on my own.” She fought her traitor body and used all of her strength to detach from Harry’s warm frame.

“Can I have the wine now even if I didn’t bring your special roses?”

Finding out that Harry’s sister is actually her best friend, Sophia’s earlier nerves and qualms about meeting such an important figure in the life of the boy she’s dating was quickly flushed in the drain. Feeling completely in her element, Sophia accepted Gemma’s open arm as the two ladies linked their hold together, walking inside the couple’s house like every single Friday night.

Except this time, Michal isn’t the only one third wheeling the best girl pals as they conversed about Sophia’s newfound love life. Instead, Harry was the new member of the Wine Nights at Gemma’s, acting as the official fourth wheel of the Gemma x Sophia supremacy.

“This is how it’s going to be now, huh?” Sophia heard Harry ask Michal as the two boys trailed after them.

“Yup.” was Michal’s resounding reply, “You unknowingly just signed-up to share your girl with your sister.”

“Well fuck me, yeah?”

Is it sadistic for Sophia to think it was everything she wanted?

Gemma stopped walking by the time they reached the kitchen, addressing the two boys.

“If I hear any of you complaining about Soph and I’s eternal love for each other, I won’t second guess myself by throwing your share of wine on your idiot faces.”

Yup, Sophia wouldn’t have it either way.

SNEAK PEEK: Bunny and the Wine Nights at Gemma's

Because it's Bunny's 28th today, here's a little sneak peek on my upcoming work! 💞

*~*~*

Gemma Styles has a very special place in Sophia’s heart.

Aside from her parents (the people who raised her), flowers, (her babies that give her the utmost happiness), and red velvet cupcakes (the love of her life as it seems), Gemma holds the remaining good part of Sophia’s heart.

They had met in university, the two sharing the same flat building. Thoughts of that same flat always brings an unwelcome shiver in Sophia’s spine upon remembering how it was filled with outrageously smart and stuck-up teenagers who seemed to have never experienced a good time.

Sophia met Gemma one early afternoon, sitting at the common rooms while sipping on some wine.

She was shocked to see wine being drank that early, but was more-so perplexed at seeing someone actually using the common rooms when Sophia had only been alone in the same area weeks prior, never seeing a soul who wanted to join her lounge-about.

Sophia had thought the rest of her flatmates in the building were always cooped up in their room, painstakingly glued to their computers watching the British economy move up and down as their extremely odd form of entertainment.

With just that perception in common, Gemma and Sophia had hit it off that same day when Gemma had sighed in total relief for finally meeting someone aside from brainiacs that made her feel stupid. It had been another shared feeling between the two, making their first interaction go on swimmingly. Plus, Sophia and Gemma share the same love for wine which the latter said ran in their family making Sophia part of it now.

So how can Gemma not have a special place in Sophia’s heart when she said the sweetest thing ever to her in just a day of meeting?

It’s further proven how Gemma Styles is a true woman after Sophia’s heart when she met and matched every effort Sophia had exerted to continue building on their friendship all throughout their hectic days in uni. It’s a testament to their will-power and genuine love for each other with how they remained friends despite their clear differences.

Straight-out the bat, Gemma is the most strong-minded and blunt human being Sophia has ever met in her whole existence on earth. Every single one of their friends who had met them as best friends already, would always question how someone as sweet as Sophia would be close to Gemma who was constantly viewed as the most outspoken and unforgivingly forward in their small friend group.

Well, opposites attract, right? And honestly, there is just as much bluntness in Sophia as there is sweetness in Gemma. It only shows between the both of them and their innate, personal, closeness. The pair don’t see the need to show and justify to others why the two of them just work as best friends, and that none of their questioning will break that special bond they have.

Besides, Sophia could assure you that Gemma would be the sweetest and cuddliest little kitten whenever Sophia’s sad. At the same time, Sophia would gladly be the most strong-minded and unapologetic blunt mother hen whenever Gemma does something stupid like getting herself drunk with four bottle of wine in one single night just because of an idiot ex-boyfriend.

Now Sophia’s sweet nature is honesty not one for swearing but screw that stupid piece of poopy-headed exes because no woman should feel like they’re not enough for some boy.

Clearly, Gemma and Sophia balance each other out in an impeccable fashion and find themselves in a continuous tight-knit friendship even after graduating.

Gemma also happens to be a God sent in Sophia’s life for she was the one who had told Sophia about the open space for renting under the building of Gemma’s growing design firm. Together, the pair built Sophia’s flower shop with her own best friend as her interior designer. The perks of having an interior designer of a best friend who has her own firm just above the top of her own shop is something Sophia often felt grateful about.

Now you’d probably think that Sophia and Gemma know everything about each other at this point in life as successful business women. Considering the fact that Sophia was the first one to figure out Gemma was seeing someone just from the bubbly change in her demeanor, Sophia believes Gemma and her have an excellent grasp on each other’s everything much to Gemma’s dismay of wanting a grand reveal for her now serious boyfriend, Michal.

He’s a good guy and a truly brilliant choice, in Sophia’s opinion.

What’s not good however is her realization that there are still lingering little things that she might not know about her best friend.

Like the fact that Gemma wants to set Sophia up with her younger brother.

The remaining part of the fic comes sometime this February 🙈

Gingerbreadbunny

My other Holiday fic!

❄️🎄❄️

The light pitter-patter of small feet on the carpeted floors is enough to tingle Harry’s senses to awaken.

That’s what being a father to a too sunny, too active, too animated, too independent three-year-old daughter does to you.

Harry feels the familiar dip of his side of the bed, lips threatening to curl up on their own as his closed eyelids can imagine the highly cute way his daughter crawls to reach his ‘sleeping’ body, her little bum wiggling upwards to reach her father’s long torso. The sign of his daughter’s success is felt through warm, small hands finding purchase on Harry’s sleep-puffed face.

“Wakey, daddy, wakey.” Harry’s daughter tries to whisper in the quiet of the cold room, little fingertips tapping her father’s cheek in earnest.

Harry acts as if he was still asleep, body rumbling in a loud snore like all those times his daughter has decided to wake his wits too early in the morning without the necessity of waking at such time. Her giggles at Harry’s ridiculous acting etches the smile on Harry’s lips that he’s been trying to hold-off, his daughter’s knowing hands squeezing his cheeks together.

“Daddy, I know you’re awake, silly.” Molly giggles, same green eyes brightening up as Harry flutters his own to look at her daughter.

Harry is known to exaggerate sometimes, but he thinks it’s only fair that he feels the air get knocked out of his system every time he gets a good look at his daughter’s face that is no doubt a mini replica of his sleeping wife’s gorgeousness. Molly might have gotten his green irises, but all other physicalities (and personality, just wait and see) is all Sophia’s down to the T.

With that being said, the faux innocent tint his daughter is giving her sleep coated eyes, is one that Harry is familiar with even before Molly was born.

“Princess, why are you awake this early?” Harry quietly rumbles, hands reaching up to fix his daughter’s sleep rumpled hair, the little girl barely allowing Harry to do so as she moves away from his hands by crawling her way up to plant herself on her father’s chest.

“Ooof,” Harry lets out in slight surprise, resting his hands to hold Molly’s little body steady on his warm chest. “Always so jumpy in the morning, you are.”

Molly only giggles at her father’s comment, little chubby arms wrapping around Harry’s neck as she perches her chin right at the top of her father’s sternum.

“Have to wake-up cause it’s the 24th daddy,” Molly explains, “Why you and mummy still sleeping?” she tilts her head in a frown, far too adorable for Harry’s tired state.

Harry bops her nose, “And how do you know it’s the 24th hm, miss smarty?”

In a tone far more exasperated than the fond look Harry is giving her, the three-year-old rumbles, “It’s in the advent calendar, daddy! Last door today, mummy said!”

“Shh.” Harry quickly tells her daughter in a gentle approach, forefinger placed on his lips that his daughter tries to copy but fails ultimately because her pouting lips are pressed on Harry’s skin. “Inside room voice please. And mummy is still sleeping so we have to be quiet, okay?”

Understanding dawns swiftly on her daughter, green eyes rounding just like her cute little mouth formed in an ‘oh’ as she looks at her mother’s sleeping form beside Harry on the bed.

“Quiet, mummy is asleep.” Molly repeats firmly to Harry, the latter dimpling that he just got slightly told-off by her daughter by doing nothing after he slightly told her off for the one being too loud.

Harry really doesn’t want to accidentally wake Sophia by their daughter’s far too early bright energy since Sophia had been a real trooper last night finishing all their unwrapped gifts. Harry prides himself in being ace at gift wrapping so Sophia and him had planned to do most of it last night in one go. What they didn’t put into consideration is their daughter’s absolute excitement to anything Christmas related, Harry needing to assist a fussing Molly last night who didn’t want to sleep because the toddler was high-strung for their Christmas Eve activities the next day.

Nine hours of sleep later (she could have had twelve if she didn’t hackle her father for three hours worth of Christmas stories, singing and cuddles), Molly is obviously invading her parents' peaceful room to exude her youthful excitement for the festive day ahead.

That makes Harry stop in realization.

“Princess, how did you know it’s the 24th today? I don’t remember mummy ever saying that to you exactly.” Harry quietly hums, brow raising at the way her daughter bites her lip at his question. “Have you woken-up extra early to practice your numbers?”

Molly is obsessed with Christmas. She has been asking her mother to assist her with her special, sugar-induced treats advent calendar because despite her persistent independent desires, Molly is not yet completely fluent with her numbers thus the dates of the month are still quite tricky for her to remember correctly. How she was able to remember that today is the 24th of December, brings high suspicious thoughts into Harry’s mind.

Molly spills out giggles from her pink lips, cheeks squishing down and nuzzling on the expanse of her father’s neck like the cuddlebug that she is. Harry only hugs her tighter to his body, gently soothing her giggles to not escalate into full-on rambunctious laughter that will wake her sleeping, pretty mummy.

When Harry gently squeezes Molly’s hips, a reminder that he’s still waiting for an answer, Molly’s grinning eyes are trained at her father before answering in full honesty.

“Went downstairs to counted the days on the advent calendar before going to mummy and daddy’s room.”

“Darling.” Harry drawls, voice trying to sound exasperated but is overthrown by the feeling of endearment at his daughter’s antics. “What do I keep on reminding you about going down the stairs by yourself?”

Molly pouts, the words uttered by her father usually proceeds to him being cross with her. “Daddy, I promise I really went carefully down. I hold with my two hands the bars of the stairs, promise, daddy.”

“Did you really?” Harry exhales, eyes shining in admiration for his daughter’s innocent words of pure sincerity.

Molly nods her head enthusiastically, little chin digging on Harry’s skin almost uncomfortably. “Yes, I super promise, daddy.”

Instead of replacing her pout back to that of her saccharine smile, Molly’s bottom lip protruded even farther, green Bambi eyes rounding in a full wounded look which got Harry alert in mere seconds. But before he can fuss over his daughter and ask what’s wrong, Molly is grumbling on his chest.

“My tum-tum was telling me it was wanting food so I went down, daddy.”

Harry’s resulting laughter now deserves that earlier reprimand of his daughter to be quiet. How can he be blamed for letting out such an obnoxious noise when his daughter’s words are not far from the way Molly’s own mother would grumble to him. Sophia is highly notorious for getting close to tears when she’s hungry, there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that Molly’s saddened pouting face right now would escalate to that level if he doesn’t give her something to eat real soon.

“Did you eat anything then, darling? To soothe your tum-tum’s hungry calls?”

Molly shakes her head glumly, “No. Never eat breakfast with no mummy or daddy, mummy and you said.”

Harry positively coos at his daughter’s sweet words, Sophia and him instilling in Molly at a young age the importance of a family eating together when all are in the same place. Whether it’s in the kitchen at their home, daddy’s kitchen at his tour bus, or mummy’s kitchen at her nail salon. It’s a testament to Molly’s strong-willed mind that always wants to explore how far her parents would let her do things on her own, by still valuing the words they tell her.

“Aw, poor baby.” Harry coos, lips dropping to kiss his daughter’s forehead behind her messy fringe. “Did my darling wake daddy up so she can have food for her tum-tum?”

Like the true toddler that she is, Molly’s earlier display of a saddened puppy instantly shifts to that of an excited puppy at the mere mention of her father being there to provide her with food. Due to another thing contrary to his daughter’s wishes of feeding herself, she actually can’t do that if she can’t even reach the top of the kitchen counter without using one of their wooden chairs to stand on.

“Yes please, daddy.” Molly politely replies, the dents on Harry’s cheeks digging even deeper at the way he’s beaming at his daughter.

“Okay.” Harry taps her cotton bottoms clad bum, “Go wait for me near the stairs while daddy needs to get dressed before he becomes your chef.”

Molly makes a conscious effort of covering her giggling lips with the palm of her small paws, Harry shaking his head, highly endeared at his daughter who has quickly slid away from his hold on her body. Harry only realizes that Molly is actually already dressed for the day in a warm toned jumper with a silver, sparkling collar and plain, cream trousers. Gone were her favorite Frosty the Snowman pyjama set that Harry had stressed over last night after his daughter started having a tantrum when Harry told her it was still in the wash. Thank god for dryers really!

Harry’s slight lamenting for all his efforts washed away just like that is interrupted by Molly’s excited form turning back at him before making her way out to wait near their stairs.

“Daddy,” Molly says in a loud whisper, “wear a jumper cause mummy said it’s going to be super coldest today.”

Harry chuckles lightly, “How cold did mummy say it was going to be today, darling?”

Molly wraps her small arms around her own form, acting like she was shivering, “The super coldest!”

If only Sophia and Harry weren’t against the idea of having their daughter star in ad campaigns at such a young age, Harry’s pretty sure Molly’s charisma and adorable acts would have garnered them a hefty paycheck, enough to have bought all her Christmas gifts this year.

“Well in that case, daddy should bundle-up and listen to mummy, huh? The same way you little miss should be listening to daddy’s instructions earlier. No food for the tum-tum if cuddlebug isn’t careful.”

That etches a serious aura on Molly’s face like a determined little puppy, “Cuddlebug would be careful, daddy.” she says in full determination before making a show of slowly walking out of her parents room. That leaves Harry giggling to himself while fetching his equally warm clothing in their closet.

Having learned how to dress up quickly not only for hectic tours and Gucci fashions shows, but that too of being freshly out the shower and your daughter is already wailing for your attention, Harry easily finishes getting ready for the day in just under five minutes. The man smiled approvingly at his daughter who was waiting patiently at one of the single couches in the upstairs living room area by the stairway, the couch big enough to look like it was swallowing her small form.

“Look who’s being a good girl early this morning.” Harry says, offering his hand for Molly to take. “Such a patient girl, princess. I think you’re definitely going to get your pressies from Santa tomorrow.”

Molly gives him a toothy smile, preening at her father’s words while accepting his help of getting down from the large single couch. “You think so, daddy?”

Harry easily picks up his toddler to carry down the stairs, the little girl’s one arm snaked behind his neck while the other rests on his cheek waiting for an answer with her green doe-like eyes exhibiting intense anticipation.

“Daddy really thinks so, princess. You’ve been really good and helpful to mummy while daddy was away so I’m sure that Father Christmas will know that too.”

“How he know?” Molly quirks a confused brow as Harry takes the two of them to their kitchen. “You talk to Santa, daddy?”

“Not really because I don’t need to. Santa sees everything, remember?” Harry says while carefully depositing Molly on the surface of the marbled kitchen counter.

Something in his last words spiked a current of sheer joy on Molly’s face, the latter quickly wobbling to stand on her feet on the kitchen counter allowing Harry to assist her excited frame as to not to fall on the floor and cause her father a heart attack.

Despite being Sophia’s daughter through and through, Molly is still Harry’s daughter as well. Greatly exemplified when said daughter suddenly begins singing a classic Christmas tune all animatedly, with her small body bopping this way and that.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake!” Molly all but belts in her high-pitched voice, “He knows when you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!”

There’s nothing that gets Harry the most than seeing his daughter singing her heart out, easily getting tranced to join along the fun as they sing the chorus together, Harry’s arms gently swaying along Molly’s in a little happy dance.

“So! You better watch out, you better not cry. You better not pout, I’m telling you why. Santa Clause is coming to town!”

The two finish in absolute flourish, Molly’s ear-piercing screech hitting the last note of the song perfectly in Harry’s opinion. They both dissolve into rambunctious laughter after their singing moment, Harry’s heart growing triple its size at how unbelievably amazing his daughter is.

Harry drops a kiss to Molly’s grinning cheek, “I think that wonderful singing has made my princess more hungry, huh? Don’t worry, daddy’s going to give you a smoothie first before I start baking our brekkie.”

Harry misses the pout that formed on his daughter’s lips, back already facing her while getting some lime and spinach in the fridge, only to be interrupted by his daughter’s whine.

“Daddy! No green stuffies, please!”

Harry faces his daughter with his mouth ajar, “What do you mean no green stuffies? You love daddy’s smoothies, love.”

Molly shakes her head furiously, “Nu-uh, green smoothies are yucky!”

Harry actually gasps at the disgusted face his daughter is sporting, “Since when did my smoothies become yucky to you?”

“Mummy said eewiee last time you maked us smoothies so I say eewiee too.” Molly replies like it was a no brainer and Harry’s amused to say the least.

He should have seen it coming with the way most things about his daughter are slowly unfolding to be like the traits of her mother every day that she grows-up. Sophia’s aversion to green vegetables and fruits were put into a hold after the two of them have discussed that it was important that Molly would learn to love healthy foods and drinks at an early age. Harry’s quite certain that Sophia didn’t mean for their daughter to hear her disgusted comment about his smoothie since she’s been the best mother by being a good example to Molly and gulping her own pains away with Harry’s green smoothies every time he makes them.

But of course, their daughter had to be an attentive one and all Sophia’s efforts are put to waste at their daughter’s incessant look of displeasure after seeing Harry holding the green ingredients this morning.

“Don’t wanna green stuffies, daddy.” Molly pouts further, “Tum-tum don’t likey.”

Harry sighs, “What are you going to eat then, darling? Daddy’s still going to bake our brekkie and that would take awhile.”

Molly’s grin springs back to her face in an instant, it’s tone far too devious for a toddler which makes Harry quite apprehensive of what she’s about to say.

“May I please go to the pantry and I find snacks to eat while you bake brekkie, daddy?”

Molly asks the question so innocently, Harry not seeing the harm of agreeing especially with how polite she had asked for his permission.

“Alright.” Harry relents, acting exasperated at his daughter’s cheerful face. “You may go to the pantry and pick a snack. But please, pick something healthy, love. And please eat it at the dining table where I can see you, okay?”

His daughter nods her head enthusiastically, “Yes, daddy.” puckering her lips to land a kiss on Harry’s chin before quickly asking for help to be brought down to the floor.

Harry shakes his head in amusement once again as he easily carries Molly’s lithe body from the kitchen counter down to the heated floors, the little girl scurrying away to the door of their pantry before Harry can even tell her to be careful with her steps.

Like her mother, Molly has grown-up to love snacking at any moment the hunger for it strikes. Being the independent bee that she is, Sophia had decided it was only wise to get Harry to make their daughter a stepping stool that can be used for the pantry so that the little girl could go and get her snacks by herself after informing the two of them where she’s going.

Harry had been hesitant of the idea at first, scary thoughts of his baby girl loosing her footing on the stepping stool and falling on the ground without them near had plagued his mind. Those negative thoughts were quickly diminished when Sophia had ordered online a kit for the stepping stool, Molly’s eager aurora excitedly asking her father to assemble it for her, small hand not only tugging on his bigger palm but that too of his heart strings, was enough to get him to agree.

And now he isn’t regretting the decision. Harry makes the most out of the silent reprieve his daughter has given him by getting the dough that he chilled last night together with some butter, sugar, and flour from the cupboards all for the cinnamon rolls he’s going to be baking for their Christmas Eve breakfast.

Harry’s sweet tooth of a wife had actually been the one that had requested for this specific dish, and who was Harry to deny her kind wish when it was the season of giving after all. Besides, Sophia deserves some doting love from him after being the best mum in the world this past year with him being away from tour, or with Sophia being also his mum on tour when they were in the city where Harry was set to perform.

Harry wants to make this a special and delicious breakfast for his wife and daughter that he actually doesn’t notice what Molly is eating, just content seeing the flurry of her crazy-messy hair as she busies herself in the dining table while Harry begins to roll out the dough he proofed last night.

After rolling out the dough to be thin and wide enough for his liking, Harry’s focus was shifted to making sure he’s brushing equal amounts of butter on every surface of the dough as well as the brown sugar and cinnamon mixture he’s sprinkling is also of equal parts.

Too focused on the art of baking for his girls, Harry does not notice his wife coming down the stairs in all her sleep-rumpled glory, all cozily dressed-up and warm for the winter weather.

“Mind if I join the two of you here?” Sophia’s sweet voice breaks Harry’s engrossed state as he watches his wife almost glide to the kitchen towards them. Such a graceful creature that one.

It should have been a tell-tale sign when Molly didn’t even acknowledge the presence of her mother despite always worshiping the floor she walks on, wanting to be Sophia’s little version every single day. But one thing the married couple has learned after having their first child, is to value every second of child-less time that God gives them. So can you really blame the two when they went straight to each other in a tight embrace, lips locking in a sweet morning kiss.

“Good morning, my sunflower.” Harry dimples at his smiling wife, “I’d really want to cradle your face and kiss you so tenderly but my hands are sticky with sugar and cinnamon.”

Sophia coos at Harry’s pout, “It’s okay bunny, I’d just be the one to hold your face and kiss you good morning so tenderly.” Cupping Harry’s giggling face on the small of her palm, Sophia raises on her tiptoes to entangle their lips together in a loving kiss.

“Mummy! My kissies too!”

And that’s why you grab every opportunity you have to be able to snog your wife peacefully.

Harry and Sophia both sighed in each other's lips, more endeared than exasperated really, just like for everything else their daughter does.

Sophia turns her head towards Molly at the dining table, “Of course, my love. How can mummy forget my kissies for you?”

Their daughter shrugs, infamous pout forming once again, “I don’t know. Mummy should not forgetting to share daddy’s kissie with me too.”

Both Harry and Sophia let out surprise laughter at Molly’s clear admission of childish jealousy regarding Harry’s kisses. He should have known that a jealous mother would also mean a jealous daughter. Come to think of it, it’s not the first time Molly has interrupted their holiday smooches, only this time there weren’t any tiny hands pushing their heads away from each other.

“Oh, how unkind of mummy for not sharing daddy’s kissies with you, baby?” Sophia humors their daughter. “Why don’t you come here with us darling and give daddy amazing kisses and I go fix your messy hair while you’re at it with your father’s affection.”

Molly smiles, adorable baby teeth showing. And that’s when they see it.

“Molly!” Harry gasps together with Sophia, “What have you been eating, young lady?”

Molly shuts her toothy grin in an instant, features flushing in muted pink at being caught. She doesn’t reply to her father, so Harry has no choice but to follow his wife whose hand he’s holding, drags him to the dining table.

“What is this?” Sophia asks, gesturing incredulously at the plate of ‘snacks’ Molly had chosen from the pantry.

One of Sophia’s dainty white and gold plate sets that’s perfectly arranged for tonight’s roast dinner, is filled with mini Lindt chocolate bears, its classic gold wrapper with the touches of red, blue, and green all fit for the holiday outfits the adorable bears are wearing.

Seeing that her parents are more fond rather than cross (unfortunately) at her, Molly doesn’t cower away in the fear of getting scolded and instead gives her parents another toothy grin, evidence of her early sweet treat visible.

“They’re choccys, mummy.” Molly answers, so angelic-like it makes Harry believe Sophia and him are doomed when Molly becomes a teenager and get away with every single devious thing she’ll do because her parents are utter suckers for her precious face.

“I can see that they are choccys, darling.” Sophia confirms, head turning to Harry with a curved brow. “Now I don’t understand why your daddy let you eat some this early.”

Harry’s brows furrow, bottom lip sticking out just a little bit because it feels like the scolding will be directed at him unlawfully. “Sunflower, I told our little princess to get a healthy snack. Didn’t I, love?”

Molly might charm her way to get past her cheeky antics but one thing that she can’t do is lie straight to her parent’s faces, another thing she’s inherited from Sophia who can’t lie (even for a surprise for her husband) for the life of her. That trait goes in favor for Harry most of the time, easily getting the answers from Sophia when it’s date night and she had planned for them a surprise. Sophia can’t even last a whole five minutes in their ride and she’s already spilling the beans to Harry.

“Yes.” Molly pouts, nodding her head dejectedly. “Daddy said healthy snack before brekkie but I gotten choccys instead, sorry mummy and daddy.”

Molly makes grabby hands for either of her parents to pick her up, Sophia being the nearest one extending her arm to raise her daughter up and hold her tights to her chest. Molly quickly presses her soft baby lips on her mother’s in a kiss filled with apology, little head tilting at the side to reach for her father with her lips remained pursed. Harry coos, bending a little to meet his daughter half-way through, Molly smacking an equally apologetic kiss to his lips.

“It’s alright baby,” Harry promises quietly, “You’re forgiven, mummy and daddy aren’t cross with you.”

Sophia hums the same sentiment, giving her daughter a soft smile, “Daddy’s right, we’re not going to get mad at you if you’re so kind for being honest and apologizing right away. Look who’s in the nice list of Father Christmas?”

That brings the grin on Molly’s face back, giggling almost bashfully at her mother’s praise. “Sure mummy? Santa didn’t putted me in the naughty list cause I eated choccys for brekkie snack?”

“Yes, mummy’s sure baby. Remember, Santa has eyes everywhere, yeah?”

Both Harry and Molly lock gazes at that, mirth swimming in their green irises causing a frown of wary to etch on Sophia’s face.

“Uh-oh, why are you two looking at each other like that?”

Instead of replying, the father and daughter turned into the amazing singing duo that they are, breaking into the same Christmas song number from earlier. This time around, they’ve placed Sophia in the middle of their little dance routine, Harry and Molly showing Sophia how to properly shimmy her shoulders and bop her bum and hips like they’re back on tour once again.

It doesn't take long before Sophia and Molly tap out from tiredness, Harry giggles on his hands at the rather adorable flushed faces of his girls, bodies bent with their hands placed on their respective knees catching their breath like they’ve just ran a marathon. It’s yet another trait Molly got from her mother, getting easily physically exhausted and then pouting up at Harry asking for ‘cool down cuddles’.

On any regular day, Harry would have instantly jumped at the opportunity of getting to smother his two tired girls in his snuggles. But today’s Christmas Eve, he’s not going to let them have shitty breakfast just because they’re all too clingy and need attention, that’s really the bottomline of it, isn’t it?

Hence, Harry musters the bravest face he can make, one that can resist the double-trouble of his wife and daughter’s identical puppy eyes and pleading pouts (a hundred times more fucking difficult than anyone can ever imagine), asking Sophia to help Molly freshen-up and erase any traces of chocolate on her face. Despite Sophia’s resistance, she agrees minutes later upon remembering the bird nest state of her daughter’s hair, and the promise of freshly baked cinnamon rolls once they arrive back.

Harry promptly returns to work once Molly and Sophia have left hand-in-hand up the staircase once more.

One who absolutely loves cooking for his girls, Harry expertly cuts and rolls the cinnamon buns and is placed perfectly in a large baking dish in no time. It still does have to be baked though, so Sophia and Molly arrive back in the kitchen with the growing aromas of sugar mixed with spicy notes from the cinnamon, inhibiting the entire room.

“Oohh, smells yummy.” Sophia observes, nose visibly raising in attention to waft the heavenly scent.

Molly, who’s in her mother’s arms with her hair fixed into little adorable spacebuns, copies her mother with ease, eyes closing all lovely, “Oohh, smells yummy!”

The two adults share a laugh at their daughter’s undeniable cuteness, amusement unceasing when the cinnamon rolls have baked with Molly physically sitting on her own tiny hands to prevent from taking a bite of her own roll after Harry had served them with it at the dining table. Both Sophia and Harry have told their daughter about five times (in the span of two minutes) not to eat it yet for it’s still piping hot after being taken out fresh from their oven.

Harry would like to think that as much as Sophia is on his side for their daughter’s safety, he’s pretty sure Sophia is also at the edge of her seat, waiting for the go signal from Harry when it’s already alright to eat their sweet breakfast without anyone burning their tongues.

After all, the two do love their sweet food. Harry shares the same observation at the table once Sophia and Molly have dived straight into their own cinnamon rolls, forgetting about knives and forks unlike Harry.

“I mean, I like sweet food.” Sophia answers Harry's comment, “But I don’t know if I love it, per say.” and then proceeds to lick her fingers clean from the sugary icing Harry had poured earlier.

Harry raises an incredulous eyebrow at that, Sophia huffing with an eye-roll at her husband’s smirk.

“Okay, I love sweet food then,” Sophia relents, “but I don’t like sweet breakfast all the time. Like, I also want some savory food in the morning on some days.”

Harry snorts, “Since when? I’m pretty sure our baby girl was eating chocolate bears earlier because she got that from you, like all things really.” and he gives Sophia his own set of eye-rolls, the underneath tone of bitterness in his voice is not lost in Sophia’s ears.

Sophia cackles, “That’s so not true.”

At the same time, Molly perks-up after hearing the magical word, “Choccy bears?” she asks in excitement, mouth messy with white icing and crumbs of sugar and cinnamon making the spouses giggle at their daughter’s messy nature.

Harry reaches forward to wipe his daughter clean, chuckling when Molly cranes her little neck to catch Harry’s thumb on her mouth to eat the sweet mess. Honestly, if anyone didn’t know any better, they’d probably think Harry is starving his daughter from the way she absolutely lights up after savoring those little granules of sweet food.

“Yeah, choccy bears,” Harry muses with a grin at his daughter, “darling, don’t you just love choccy bears cause mummy loves choccy bears?”

That makes Molly beam, all toothy and sticky hands clapping in glee, “Yes! Mummy loves choccy bears so I maded sure I love it too!”

The smug look Harry offers Sophia after that, is enough to convey the ‘I told you so!’ without needing to say it verbally. Sophia just pouts at her husband, brows meeting in the middle.

“Well mummy has a sweet tooth, so what can she do?” Sophia shrugs before turning to give Harry a fleeting look, baby blues looking too devious for Harry’s liking which all of a sudden disappears to give Molly an excited beam.

“But good thing daddy does quite well with helping us with our sweet cravings, yeah princess?”

Molly nods eagerly at her mother before turning to Harry with a lovely smile, “Yup! Daddy loves giving mummy and Molly with sweet treats, love daddy a bunch for gotted us choccy food all the time!”

Harry just absolutely preens at his daughter’s love-oozing words, “Aww, I love you too, princess. There isn’t anything daddy won’t do to get you and mummy what you like.”

“That’s why we love you,” Sophia says, devious baby blues back on a locked gaze with Harry’s own curious ones, “Always doing your best to give what Molly and I want or need. It’s a good thing you’re also down to help Molly make gingerbread cookies later because we’ve been craving for some since the start of the month.”

Molly actually screeches on her seat at the mention of that, fisted hands banging on the table ardently. “YES! Daddy and I bake gingerbread men NOW!”

In turn, Harry actually groans on his seat with Sophia cackling in laughter and Molly continually exclaiming the need for Harry and her to start baking already, the toddler far too keen already after talking Harry’s ear off about baking gingerbread cookies together ever since last night. And yes, it’s mainly the reason why his daughter didn’t want to have her kip last night.

This lot mainly stemmed from Sophia’s love for watching the Hallmark Christmas movies once the start of the holiday season has arrived from around the corner. Molly, being the studious girl that she is in wanting to be the best mini version of her mother, had also taken a liking to these films as mother and daughter tandem made a routine of watching a film or two a day to get their Christmas spirits going.

Most of the Hallmark films that Sophia has taped in their telly, revolved around some sort of Christmas baking with a love story entangled in it in some cheesy way. Molly, being a child who doesn’t really care about kissing under the mistletoe or awkward fumbling in the skate rink that turns to cliché falling on the ice and accidentally kissing, has focused her keen attention on all the baking of sweet treats in the movies.

As much as Harry is thankful that his daughter is not yet at the age of thinking that any boy would be much suited at taking care and loving her compared to her father, Harry is also placed in an unfavorable position after his daughter had pleaded with him that they too bake in the holidays like those people in the films.

Sophia’s a decent cook but she’s absolute crap in the field of baking, so it was clever of their daughter to direct her widened eyes and fluttering lashes at her daddy who on a normal day can’t resist giving in to that look.

What happens when it’s given to him during Christmas time?

Harry absolutely stumbles on his feet to teach his daughter how to make gingerbread cookies, that’s what happens.

That statement is also conveyed in literal terms, like Harry is literally stumbling on his own two feet from the amount of flour his daughter is placing in their dry ingredients bowl, so much that it’s also spilling on the kitchen floor causing Harry’s clumsiness to come into action.

“Alright, I think that’s enough, baby.” Harry says, hands coming up to wave off the puffs of flour floating in the air. He stands closer to his daughter who’s standing securely on one of their dining chairs, head raised to look at Harry in clear concentration, an extremely adorable look that Harry can’t help but giggle at.

“What’s next, daddy?” Molly eagerly asks.

“Now we have to add the remaining dry ingredients, like the salt, baking soda, and all our spices.”

To prevent more spillage, Harry takes it upon himself to tell Molly to wait (a hardship on its own that would take a lot of time to share how) while he measures into little cups all the other dry ingredients so all that his messy daughter gotta do is to dump its contents on their big bowl in an easy, and way cleaner manner.

Harry learns quite quickly that there’s nothing easy with teaching a toddler how to bake. Molly’s pudgy tiny fingers dipping on every measured cup, tongue poking out in disgust after having a taste of pure powdered cinnamon, clove, all spice, and ginger, all of which Harry had told her not to put directly in her mouth.

“That’s so yucky!” Molly grumbles, “Why we putted that in our gingerbread men, daddy?”

Harry shakes his head at his daughter’s cluelessness, filling a glass of water for Molly to drink to wash out the unpleasant symphony of spices in her pink tongue. Harry finds her amusing because he’ll never forget how Sophia did the exact same thing, and asked the exact same questions when they first baked gingerbread cookies together way back when their daughter wasn’t even born yet. Harry just hopes that Molly has a far better future in the baking scene than her mother.

“It won’t taste horrible later, princess, I promise.” Harry replies, accepting the empty glass from his daughter’s careful hands. “It just doesn’t taste good right now because it’s not cooked yet. Once it’s all mixed with our wet ingredients, we’ve rolled the dough and cut our gingerbread men, it’s going to taste really yummy once it’s done baking in the oven.”

His daughter only hums in acknowledgement at that, her attention span of being a toddler is quickly transferred to the pink KitchenAid mixer that Harry has just placed in the kitchen counter.

“I like the color pink.” Molly points out the electronic mixer.

“Why’s that?” Harry humors her despite knowing the answer just like he knows the sun will come down later and it will rise again tomorrow.

“Because mummy likes pink, so I like pink too.”

And how can Harry forget about that? His bloody nails are painted pink right now because Sophia seems to have a collection of all the shades of pink found in the spectrum of colors in the form of nail polishes. At the same time, he still lets out a shudder from the pointed glares that Sophia had given him for all the red outfits he wore at tour.

Harry proceeds to slowly instruct Molly about the wet ingredients that she needs to pour in a separate bowl. This time, he doesn’t bother warning Molly not to taste the sugar or molasses, but does place a foot forward when his daughter all out gobbles a cube of butter, buttery fingers trying to reach for another one which Harry intercepts easily.

“No more butter for you, missy.” Harry chuckles at Molly’s disgruntled face, traces of butter smeared on her lips, “Or we won’t have any cookies if your tum-tum eats them all.” Harry then tickles her pudgy stomach causing Molly to shriek in laughter.

In no time, Harry’s strong arms are guiding Molly’s smaller ones in combining both the dry ingredients with the wet ones, Molly’s fascinated eyes trained on the whirling motion of the mixer as it combines all the components of the gingerbread cookie into a warm brown colored dough.

“Wow.” Molly awes as Harry scoops the dough from the bowl, molding it a bit with his practiced hands before wrapping it in clingwrap.

“That’s cool, huh?” Harry dimples at his engrossed daughter. “Now we just have to wait and put it in the fridge to chill for an hour.”

His daughter’s enchanted expression of seeing their creation turn into a dough for her gingerbread men is quickly replaced by a petulant pout.

“Why?” Molly asks in a tone of pure protest, “Why put in the fridge, daddy? I thought we going to maded it now?”

Harry, having the sixth sense for a Christmas-obsessed toddler tantrum, makes his way to the fridge and swaps the dough they just made to one that he made from last night.

“Ta-da!” Harry showcases the chilled dough to his daughter animatedly, the green eyed girl covering her mouth in a gasp of surprise.

“Oh my.” Molly mutters when Harry begins to sprinkle the surface of the kitchen counter with flour, rolling out the batch of dough he prepared last night.

“Amazing right? I knew your little impatient bum couldn’t wait to get your gingerbread men assembled.”

Molly doesn’t reply from her father’s rib at her character. Either because she’s a child who can’t detect teasing that well, or because she’s precisely like her mummy who doesn’t take a damn from Harry whenever he calls out Sophia’s own impatient whining. Harry has his bets on the latter option of why Molly just ignores his words in favor of excitedly arranging the assortment of gingerbread man cookie cutters he bought specifically for her as an early Christmas present.

“Alright,” Harry claps his hands free from any excess flour after successfully rolling out the dough in the perfect thinness he was hoping to achieve, “daddy is going to show you how to cut out one gingerbread man, and you princess can do the rest after.”

Molly wordlessly hands Harry one of the cookie cutters, eyes glued solely on the slow motions of her daddy’s hands as he flours the cookie cutter before placing it in the dough.

“Now you have to press it hard, like this.” Harry tells her, pushing on his palms quite exaggeratedly with his face frowning in the faux strenuous activity just to hear his daughter’s amused giggles. “No giggling here darling. You have to put all your big girl strength in cutting these cookies or else there won’t be any cookies to eat.”

“No way!” Molly protests easily, “Have to get the gingerbread men cutted cause it looks so good in the telly that mummy and I watch.”

“Well here you go then,” Harry says, offering the jar of flour for Molly to take some for her cookie cutters, “cut away, my fine baking apprentice!”

Once again, Molly doesn’t pay attention to anything he said, just proceeds to copy her father’s earlier actions, little tongue poking out all cute in concentration as she presses hard on the cookie cutter to make sure it makes a dent on the dough.

Harry watches the scene unfold with unbridled pride blooming in his chest, attention lasered on every minute changes in Molly’s features that the second a small frown begins to form on her forehead, Harry is straightaway ready to ask what’s wrong.

“Why the gingerbread men have no heart, daddy?” Molly replies with a frown.

The question catches Harry off-guard. “What do you mean, darling?”

Molly sighs, “A heart, daddy!” she exclaims like Harry doesn’t know his basic anatomy. “Mummy said every living creature on earth has gotted a heart. That’s why we have to be kind to everyone even if they are meanies cause they also have heart and I can’t breaked other’s heart, daddy. Have to be kind, always, mummy and you said.”

Harry and Sophia have properly taught their daughter the vital importance of being kind in this world no matter the circumstance. What they should probably think of teaching Molly is how to not go melting people’s hearts from how wonderful and precious she is!

“So you also want to give your gingerbread men a heart, baby?” Harry coos, eyes probably formed into its own heart slits.

Molly nods, pink lips curved upwards, “Yes, daddy! Heart for my gingerbread men too cause people have gotted to be kind with them, too.”

Harry’s endeared to say the least, needing no other prompt to get their heart shaped cookie cutters for his daughter to use. “And we can’t go having people being mean with your gingerbread men cookies, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Molly affirms brightly, hands planting themselves on her hips with her eyes narrowing. “Don’t like meanies hurting my gingerbread men, but I still be kind if they do cause mummy said I be the bigger person.”

Harry tries to cover the laugh trying to escape from his mouth at the look of utter danger in his daughter’s green pools. “And you are the bigger person, princess. Look at you, you’re almost as tall as daddy!”

Harry’s poor attempt at joking results in an unimpressed pout on Molly’s lips, whining, “Daddy! That’s not funny.”

Harry wants to feel offended at Molly’s unpleasant words against his humor if only he didn’t know already that once again, his daughter takes on her mother for not being quite fond of Harry’s love to jest around. Oftentimes, the two girls are the first to groan at Harry’s dad jokes every time there’s company at home to entertain. Harry could say he might be annoyed, but he really isn’t when he knows deep down, Sophia and Molly would not have him in any other way despite their matching contempt every time he says, ‘knock, knock..’

The pair return to cutting their gingerbread cookies, Harry helping Molly to get the heart cookie cutter in the middle of each gingerbread man. Harry even made sure that the heart cookie cutters they’re using are all of the same size since Molly had given him a stink eye when he said some of them might be smaller than others.

“Daddy! All have same big heart, no small hearts!”

Harry prefers not to get berated by a toddler with a lot of sugar in her system, so he just follows along as he gently transfers each perfectly cut gingerbread man - with BIG hearts - on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.

Molly knows that neither of her parents allow her to be anywhere near any heat source which enables her to not start-up a fight when Harry proceeds to put the baking sheet in the pre-heated oven by himself.

“Want to go watch with mummy in the living room while daddy cleans up here?” Harry bends down to his daughter’s level to ask.

Molly shakes her head. “No. I have to help daddy to cleaned the messy in the kitchen.”

“Of course,” Harry smiles with a knowing glint in his eyes, “Mummy doesn’t like messy too, huh?”

Molly nods her head this time, a little smirk forming on her lips that makes Harry shiver internally on how in the world can she already look this devious when she wants to be at such a young age.

“Yeah, mummy doesn’t like messy.” Molly repeats, shaking her head. “That’s why mummy doesn’t like your studio, daddy!”

“Heyy..” Harry pouts at his giggling daughter of a traitor who’s exposing the current disarray state of his at-home studio, “That’s not true, love. It’s only messy right now because I let you color your Frosty the Snowman and Santa books there while I’m recording my songs for the new album.”

“Not true!” Molly declares, “Daddy’s studio is always messy!”

His little three-year-old should have thought better before saying that.

If she did, Harry would not be chasing her around in their messy kitchen with the promise of tickling her until she laughs so loudly like Father Christmas. It’s no surprise though that Harry catches Molly in his arms not even a full five minutes later, the child flushed tired in his arms once more making Harry embody the Christmas spirit of peace and decides not to go ahead with his tickling spree.

They’re in the middle of actually cleaning the kitchen counter when Molly does catch Harry in surprise.

Harry was now sitting on the chair Molly was using earlier as a stepping stool to reach the top of the kitchen counter, his daughter sitting comfortably on his lap, face nuzzled into the warmth of his neck, Harry’s own arms wrapped around Molly’s little frame hugging her tight in his embrace.

“Daddy?” Molly whispers into the skin of where his shoulder meets his neck.

“Hm?” Harry hums, hands gently running up and down Molly’s spine in an act to relax his surely tired daughter from all their baking and running about.

“May I please give mummy the first piece of our gingerbread men cookies that we maked? I love mummy a bunch of tons so I want her to gotted the first one.”

Molly Styles might be the exact replica of Sophia from the top of her head until the ends of her tiptoes, personalities and traits might also be a carbon copy despite her young age.

But one thing that Harry is dead-on sure that Molly got from him, is something so special that he doesn’t give a fuck if it’s the only thing his daughter got from his gene (the green eyes too, thanks).

Molly loves her mummy just the same as Harry loves his wife.

They give Sophia the same love, care and adoration that she deserves, Harry’s definitely happy to know and that it’s something he’s proud to say Molly got from him.

Molly wants to give Sophia the first piece of the gingerbread cookies Harry and her made just the same as Harry would make sure his wife gets the first serving of food in any Christmas party held under his honor.

Molly would wait patiently for her mummy’s reaction upon taking the first bite of the holiday cookie just like Harry who waited for Sophia’s reaction to the Christmas ornaments he got from every state he visited in the US during his last tour. Both father and daughter need that smile of approval from the woman they love to function properly afterwards.

Despite being a lover of sweet treats herself, Molly would only give half of her attention on the gingerbread cookie she’s eating, the remaining half is trained on her mother, waiting if she needs a drink before ordering her daddy to make mummy her special Christmas hot cocoa with extra marshmallows at the top.

Similarly, Harry would only give his favorite Christmas film ‘Love Actually’ half of his mind while the rest is focused on his wife who’s decorating their home all festive and cozy for Christmas time, always on high alert if she needs a hand on something.

After having enough taste on the gingerbread cookies, Molly would gladly cuddle her mummy in her small but insanely powerfully huggable arms, knowing full well how much Sophia loves a good warm snuggle with every food coma she nurses. Sophia’s tired state from last night had also garnered similar results, Harry welcoming his tired wife from all the gift wrapping she had done, her entire body going pliant in Harry’s strong hold as he oozes all the love and appreciation he has for her in that simple body contact.

The Christmas-obsessed Molly would even disregard all the fun holiday activities she has in mind just to show her mummy how much she loves spending time with her and doing barely anything. The little girl would no doubt agree to Sophia’s request of cuddling all day of Christmas Eve in the couch watching more Hallmark Christmas films or the Grinch once Harry gets bored of all the soppiness.

In the same regard, Harry would gladly politely decline any offers his friends have to join them for some Christmas party at some high-class pub or even a shopping trip to a fancy Christmas market, all in favor of joining Molly in loving up Sophia with her favorite hugs and kisses.

Harry and Molly’s love for the woman truly has no bounds, would happily do the same thing again come dinner time with Molly letting her mummy have the first bite of the Christmas roast, attentive eyes waiting for the signal to get her daddy to make mummy the ‘Christmas special drink for mummy and daddy only’ aka: mulled wine.

Harry wouldn’t even mind if that was the case, he’ll most likely even volunteer to start the cuddle fest himself after their Christmas Eve dinner. Arms wide open for his girls with Molly helping him make sure mummy is snuggled tightly with the thick, knitted blanket they got from Nanny Anne. It wouldn’t be a secret if the two indulge Sophia with another Christmas movie at night time, maybe one of the Princess Switch movies or Elf once Harry gets confused on why there are two Vanessa Hudgens that suddenly turn into three come the next movies.

All in all, when Christmas morning comes, Harry is confident that Molly and him love Sophia wholly and just the same by letting her have the first go at the pressies under their fabulously decorated Christmas tree.

Never mind the fact that Molly is a three-year-old toddler who’s been waiting for Santa’s gifts ever since the start of the ber-months, or that Harry is a 27-year old man who still outshines her daughter by opening more gifts than her in under a minute because he’s definitely still very much in-touch with his inner child once the holiday season strikes.

All of those Harry and Molly can disregard and throw the notion outside the door and into the snowing England pavements.

All in the name of their shared love and gratitude for Sophia.

“Yes.” Harry simply replies to his daughter, the two’s features slowly brewing in identical grins despite their clear differences in looks. “We can give mummy anything we want this Christmas Eve because we love her.”

“YES!” Molly cheers far too brightly for something so simple and so innate to them, “We love on mummy on Christmas Eve!”

And pretty much any other day of any other week of any other fucking year, they’d love on Sophia as much as they want.

This Christmas Eve is no exception.

"Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." MASTERPOST

A best friends to lovers Christmas story featuring the best JB song of all time: Mistletoe.

Set in the too-white Winter Wonderland of a bungalow and the Cheshire Christmas Market, Bunny and Sunflower spend their first Christmas Eve together alone.

A sparkling 39.3k words, this is a holiday whirlwind of a story that's both soft and fluffy like the winter snow, and warm and crackling at the touch like sitting by the fireside.

My gift for myself and to all of you,

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, lovelies! 🌟

Chapters:

- The First Cup of Hot Chocolate

- The Second Serving of Cranberry Sausage Rolls

- The Third Piece of Mistletoe Cookies

"Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." - Chapter Three

The Third Piece of Mistletoe Cookies 🎄

- Story Masterpost for the other chapters

Sophia ends up being wrong.

She does still know her best friend.

Well a semblance of the totality of her best friend, when Harry went to activate his all-protective mode on her like the norm whenever he senses Sophia starting to feel uncomfortable, starting once they walked back to the Cheshire Christmas Market.

For some reason, there were so many people heading their way inside at the same time as Harry and Sophia. It’s like every single person in the town of Cheshire for the holidays, have all booked their Christmas Eve night to go to the tree lighting event.

There’s nothing wrong with that, people should do whatever the hell they want in the most wonderful time of the year. But too many individuals with excited families and friends huddling together creates crowds and Sophia does not like crowds, especially loud and exciting ones.

Despite all of Harry’s earlier teasing that he doesn’t let Sophia wait in lines for any of his concerts both solo and the band days, they both know it’s something deeper than Harry being unreasonably overprotective. Sophia gets easily overwhelmed in the presence of a culmination of people, she feels crowded both physically and mentally that she tends to spiral in her head in the state of irrational panic.

Harry had known it earlier on during the times they played at the local park near their homes. Every time other kids decided to swarm her favorite slide, Sophia would end up crying somewhere in the chaos of playing children before Harry came up to save her from her head by securing his arms around her sobbing body. Harry wanted to avoid that same thing happening to her when they grew-up and it was only fitting that he didn’t leave her waiting in line with screaming girls or crowds who would do anything just to touch his and his bandmates’ hands.

Even with the massive cloak of confusion that covered Sophia earlier at the end of their dinner, she actually sang in big relief when Harry instantly shielded her body from the crowds by placing her in front of him with a secure hold wrapped around her waist from the back.

They maneuvered the moving crowds that way, Sophia clutching tightly on Harry’s coat clad arms, mind seeming to pull farther away from her battling thoughts and emotions the more they walk into much deeper crowds. By the time they’ve reached the entrance, all Sophia wanted to do was see the damn tree getting lit up, and then walking straight back to the parking lot so she can sleep in the car while Harry drove them back to their too-white Winter Wonderland bungalow. Walking and the crowds had made her knackered to do anything more than that.

Harry must feel the same way, Sophia feeling his body deflate on her back once they’ve found the perfect position to watch the tree lighting ceremony without being submerged in the bustle of people around them.

“This place good, sunflower?” Harry whispers in her ear.

Sophia nods her head slowly in answer despite Harry being positioned behind her, not seeing the motion clearly. When Harry begins to disentangle his hold around her, Sophia promptly stops him by reaching back to pull his body back to hers.

Sophia moves her head sideward to whisper to Harry, “Stay, please bunny?”

She doesn’t think her sanity could have taken Harry replying in disagreement, her soul too tired to fight the glowing pull inside her to just want Harry to surround her and make everything better again, make every drop of foggy confusion inside her crystal clear like he had always done.

Harry doesn’t take the chances of breaking Sophia’s reason as he envelops his warm hold against hers once again, chin bending down to rest on her shoulders as Sophia releases a breath of consolation with her head tilting to the side to rest against Harry’s own. She allows herself to breathe in the comforting notes of Harry’s favorite perfume, her nose nudging against his temple and jaw in a gentle touch, letting the curls escaping the confines of his newly purchased denim baker boy’s hat (he just had to buy it and Sophia’s not even mad) tickle her skin.

It’s good to feel something familiar, to feel things start to resemble something jolly and bright once again. Being in Harry’s warmth evokes the same emotions to Sophia, their comfortable silence is enough to suffice her weary state. The two let the people around them do all the talking and singing of Christmas music as Harry and Sophia contently watch it all occur in front of them.

Sophia feels herself truly relaxed when the one minute countdown for the tree to light up begins. Her tight and frantic hold on Harry loosens to a soft hold as she feels Harry pull her closer to his chest, showing no intentions of moving away regardless if she isn’t in a frenzied tired haze anymore.

The deafening cheers of everyone around them pulls a glowing beam in Sophia’s face, the twinkling lights of the massive Christmas tree dances in front of her eyes like a complete magical experience. She almost wants to laugh at herself from the bizarre curving points of her emotions and thoughts for the entirety of the day. All those mess seeming so silly when just looking at this fucking dazzling Christmas tree makes every single nerve in her body much lighter, tingle happier.

That’s why when Harry softly whispers directly to her ear the words, “I love you, my baby sunflower.”

There’s nothing stopping Sophia inside her to reply in the most genuine and honest way she had ever felt within herself whenever Harry uttered those adoring words.

“I love you too, bunny, so much.”

In that moment, with Harry wounded tightly behind her back and the sparkling glory of the Christmas lights blanketing her in a pure light of unbridled joy, Sophia didn’t care that it’s the first time she had said I love you to Harry, sure and confident within herself that her intent was more than platonic.

Sophia basks in the simple kiss Harry places on her temple, lets her nose run along his in a reverent pattern. The love that she feels for Christmas time and the boy beside her, does not leave Sophia’s system even when they start making their way to the parking lot ready to leave the Christmas market.

Sophia blames it on her honeyed gaze of her pleasant emotions and her easily affected tired state when her focus zeros on a chocolatier stall that’s selling artisan chocolates in the kiosk near the exit of the market. She tugs on Harry’s hand that’s tight on her, wanting him to stop walking and lead her to the stall that’s calling for her name.

Harry follows her line of vision when she successfully stops him from making his gigantic strides, her pouting face tilting up towards his amused one.

“Chocolate, really?”

Sophia smiles, “I’m hungry?”

That makes Harry chuckle as he lets go of her hand to properly look at her, “Is that a question you’re asking me, because I don’t think I can answer that for you, sunflower.”

Sophia pouts again, “Not asking, just want you to take the hint and buy me those chocolates. The Advent calendar box one, please.”

“And why would I do that?” Harry laughs, arms crossing on his chest while giving Sophia a teasing look. “You’re the one who’s been having my head off for the entire day for buying ‘unnecessary Christmas shit’ as you’ve called it kindly, and now you want me to buy you a box of artisan chocolate Advent calendar?”

Sophia just nods, “Uh-huh.”

“Well I don’t know how to tell you this kindly the same way you’ve told me earlier: it’s Christmas Eve, sunflower. I don’t think you need that box of chocolate Advent calendar when it’s the bloody last day of Advent today.”

“You don’t have to think about it that way,” Sophia soothes, “bunny, just think of this as a means for you to offer me some consolation price for all the unnecessary Christmas shopping stress you gave me earlier.”

That makes Harry release a huffing laugh, “That’s not the point, sunflower!”

“What’s the point then?” Sophia slants her head to the side in confusion.

“My point is that you wanting those chocolates as a consolation prize does not make you less of a hypocrite for criticizing my Christmas spending spree earlier.”

Harry has a valid point, but Sophia’s sleepy and she’s happy and no one can take that last one away from her on Christmas Eve.

“Baby, please? May you please buy me the chocolate Advent calendar box? Pretty please?”

That perks up Harry in an instant.

“You want it that badly, huh baby?”

Sophia never calls Harry ‘baby’. It’s already too much for her whenever Harry calls her that, imagine all the things she wants to let out into the world if she decides to call him baby on the regular.

Harry is my absolute baby and I want to treasure him forever and keep him in my pocket cause he’s my adorable little baby, no one else's.

That’s absolutely impossible, and borderline creepy in various angles, but Sophia understands right away why Harry is quickly engrossed in complete curiosity when she lets out that pet name that she rarely uses on him.

Too timid to reply verbally, Sophia meekly nods in affirmation, eyes fluttering downwards on the cold England soil. She sees Harry’s boots moving towards her own, minimizing the remaining space between them. His cold gloved hand perches a hold on her chin, tilting it up for their eyes to meet. Sophia swears there’s actually literal stars (or the entire galaxy if we want to be more specific) in Harry’s eyes, it’s glow intensifying from the colorful Christmas lights encompassing them.

“If I buy you those,” Harry rasps, warm breath hitting Sophia’s cheeks from how near they are from each other, a lovely relief from the cold air constantly hitting their faces, “what are we going to do with the tins of Quality Street and Celebrations waiting in the car for you?”

Sophia frowns, “What? You got me some?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiles, a bashful shine underneath it. “After I landed at the airport, I went straight to the nearest Tesco to get them. And then they didn’t have some because apparently, I’ve been months late for every holiday thing, so I took the extra drive to head for a Waitrose and thank fuck they had them in store.”

Endeared does not encapsulate Sophia’s tremendous and numerous blissful emotions, “Really? You did that all for me?”

Harry exhales a cheery laugh like Sophia is lost for even asking that question, arms dropping to hold Sophia’s waist, the latter bringing her arms up to wrap around the back of Harry’s neck.

“Sunflower, you’ve been having my ear off about those chocolate tins for the last FaceTime calls we’ve had. There’s no way I wasn’t going to get you some.”

Sophia giggles at the disbelief in Harry’s tone, leaning her warming chin on his chest for all the sunny laughter spilling out of Harry, “Yeah, but that was like the start of the ‘ber months’ which is practically September when I was missing anything related to life in England. There’s no way you remembered it for that long.”

“Call me nuts for taking note of it then,” Harry curls the girl closer to his warmth, “I even started arranging things with Jeff already, finding a personal shopper in the UK that can buy me both tins. Since I was in the States and you were in Australia, Jeff and I were finalizing the private jet that will deliver the chocolate goods to you because there’s no way you’re going to get them in time, and in perfect shape if I got it delivered overseas the regular way.”

Color Sophia shocked all the way, “What?!” she squeaks, “A personal shopper and a private jet? Are you bloody insane?” Harry’s tone of complete casualness has rendered Sophia baffled in his arms.

“Probably?” Harry shrugs, smirking widely at the unmoving expression of surprise and awe in Sophia’s cold-flushed face. “It is kind of crazy for me to cancel all those plans and drive my tired self to get the chocolate tins in person at 11pm. And I’m probably a proper loon now since I’ll still gladly buy you that Advent calendar box of artisan chocolates.”

Maybe, just maybe, this Christmas Eve, Sophia and Harry can be loons together.

Two lunatics with their tins of Quality Street and Celebrations waiting for them to be picked upon with their personal favorites traded between each other. Let’s also not forget the fancy box of artisan chocolates that the both of them devoured merrily on the way home to their very own Winter Wonderland of a bungalow.

It would be amusing to any outsider to see the current situation of Harry and Sophia in their kitchen. The immense carefulness that Harry is exhibiting to properly assemble Christmas cookies on a little plate beside a glass that Sophia slowly filled with milk, will make someone think these 27 year-old individuals still think Father Christmas is real. How pathetic, huh?

In Sophia’s opinion, everyone else is the pathetic and ludicrous one for missing out on the rather immaculate intelligence that both her and Harry had discovered.

Like the rest of us that have gone from the innocence of childhood to the angsty stages of teenagehood, Sophia and Harry had obviously found out the hard truth that Santa is in fact, not real. The two had taken the news pretty lightly, considering that it was the pair’s tradition to prepare the food for Santa before they head to bed on Christmas Eve.

That’s what sucked most, removing that miniscule but special tradition of spending time together crafting and decorating Father Christmas’ sweet goodies, with the two of them having his leftovers come Christmas morning because Santa (their parents, apparently) can’t possibly finish six sugar cookies and a pint of sweet milk.

But who said you had to remove that tradition? That’s where everyone got it all wrong.

Sophia and Harry had come upon this colossal genius idea of still continuing their tradition of preparing Santa’s late night treats, but with the intention of actually eating it together on the morning of the 25th. Their parents and Gemma had found it to be very strange, though they just can’t completely understand how the pair can practically inhale all these dozens of sugar cookies in one go. Tricking their mind into thinking that they have to save up some for Santa tonight, would slow down their appetites. Come Christmas morning the next day, they still have sugar cookies to enjoy thanks to their past selves. Aren’t they genius?

Well Sophia and Harry surely think they are if they're still up with this tradition of theirs even to this very Christmas Eve.

Upon their arrival back at the bungalow, the pair had taken their individual showers having an agreement that they’ll meet the other at the kitchen to studiously prepare Father Christmas’ goodies, and then after that they can watch one Christmas film before heading to bed.

If that sequence of events somehow also included Sophia finishing her shower and heading back to the room in her fluffy dressing gown only to see Harry wearing the garish Christmas jumper he bought earlier, pouting and fluttering his eyes all pretty at Sophia as he sat waiting on the end of their bed with her matching gaudy knitted garment in his lap, nobody needed to know that Harry didn’t need to force her or even say anything before she’s reaching for the bundle of atrocity on his hold and heading back to the bathroom to change.

So now in their matching ugly Christmas jumpers that Harry had instantly asked for them to take a photo together to post on his close friends IG stories (sorry, Harries), Sophia feels content having Harry’s wide grin be directed towards her every once in a while that their eyes meet as they painstakingly do their own tasks in the kitchen.

It’s Christmas Eve, Sophia thinks she’s allowed to properly bathe in all of Harry’s affectionate glow in the way she wants. Her pining heart and muddled-confused and worried mind can wait for Christmas morning where Sophia will once again set herself straight with the reminders of the possible dangers of more.

But right now, she’d rather choose to berate Harry for stealing yet another cookie on the Christmas plate he’s arranging, thinking that Sophia can’t see him from where she’s standing with her back on him, cutting pieces of carrots to be placed on a reindeer-shaped bowl.

“Bunny, stop munching on those cookies. Those aren’t for you, well yet. Just wait for tomorrow or else this thing of ours will be pointless.”

“How do you know what I’m doing here?” Harry asks, Sophia doesn’t need to turn to look at him to see the evidence of crumbs on his lips, “I thought I was being sneaky.”

“You do this every time.” Sophia giggles, “and every year you think you’re being sneaky but you’re not.”

Harry grunts, “Well, why do you give me this job of the sugar cookies if you know each time I’d be tempted to get some.”

Sophia finally turns to look at her best friend, filling the corners of her mouth tug upwards when her assumptions are correct, seeing the unmistakable green and red frosting dotted on Harry’s lips. “You also never like cutting the carrots every Christmas Eve so I don’t think I’m at fault here.”

That makes Harry nod in recognition, lips pursing in thought, “Oh, I remember now. I also ask you each time we do this why you still need to cut carrots when we technically don’t need to because these aren’t really for the reindeers that we’ve been deceived to believe. Like, who would want to eat carrots on Christmas morning?”

“No one.” Sophia confirms, “But we’d thank our past selves once again for providing some sort of nutrients for all the sugar overload that will be putting on our bodies for the rest of the holiday season.”

Harry’s quirked lips turn brighter from the same spiel Sophia always provides every year that he questions the purpose of her carrots. He looks so amused for someone that has heard the same answer every year which makes Sophia giggle at how silly he is.

Shaking her head in little giggles, Sophia says, “Why don’t I go and finish this up and then I’ll help you fix the Christmas cookies there to make sure that you won’t get tempted to eat anymore. Also, to check which ones you’ve already stolen. We can’t have all the mistletoe cookies for Santa, bunny.”

Because they bought the cookies near the closing of the Christmas market, only a handful of designs were still available. They bought eight sugar cookies (four each in the morning) and Sophia remembers seeing four mistletoe designed cookies, and the other four were a mixture of Santas and snowmen and one Christmas wreath. Harry better not have eaten the latter four or Sophia would remove his privilege of picking their Christmas movie because she can’t have just all mistletoe cookies in the flat-lay she’ll be posting on her IG.

“Good, you’ve managed to eat one mistletoe cookie.” Sophia says impressed, standing beside Harry on the kitchen counter looking at his progress.

Harry scoffed in faux offense, his beaming smile still etched on his face, “I’m impressed that you have little faith in me, sunflower. I actually won’t ruin your Christmas morning by taking any of your cookie shares so I don’t plan on pocketing anymore than one cookie tonight.”

Sophia slightly narrows her eyes in suspicion at Harry’s specific choice of wording. Though no further actions were taken on her side as Harry winked cheekily at her before returning his focus on the Christmas delicacies in front of them. Since there are no imminent signs of mischievousness from her best friend, Sophia shrugs and begins to assist Harry in the finishing touches of their little feast for them to munch on tomorrow morning.

Sophia smiles fondly as Harry lights the red Christmas Eve scented candle they got a while ago, placing it in their kitchen set-up as the pair exchanged guesses of what the notes of the candle contained, making a little game out of it as they wafted the sweet and spicy aroma of the candle.

Busy in finding the perfect angle to take a breathtaking picture of their holiday spread for Santa, Sophia doesn’t notice the slight movement of Harry from beside her. Doesn’t register that the arm going around her waist was not to hug her close to his side, chin landing on the crease of where her neck and shoulder meet as Harry shares interest in the selection of pictures Sophia took, displayed on the screen of her phone.

It was apparently a deceptive act for Harry to reach over the table, slyly looting another Christmas sugar cookie. Thankfully his gangly limbs are not that far away from his muscular arms that despite the heftiness of his biceps that Sophia always gets distracted over, Harry’s still rather clumsy in all regards. The clinking sound of the plate moving was enough for Sophia to whip her head towards Harry.

“What did you do?” Sophia questions, editing of her picture on pause as she places her phone on the surface of the kitchen counter to deal with later.

“Nothing.” Harry smiles, arms rounding behind his back trying to look innocent when it’s nothing but in Sophia’s watchful eyes.

“I heard the plate move, bunny. I’m not daft to not know you took something from our spread on the kitchen counter again.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry chuckles lightheartedly in an attempt for a distraction, arm snaking around Sophia’s shoulder so her back was behind their food. “You keep talking about our Christmas treats, maybe you’re the one starving right now, sunflower.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Sophia giggles despite Harry’s efforts of steering the conversation to her, “You’re hugging me because you don’t want me to see what you took again. Which is quite smart of you because I was totally ready to count the cookies and I’m sure that’s what you got again you little cookie monster!”

Before Harry can spew anymore of his nonsense, Sophia takes the first tickle attack as her nimble fingers lurched upwards directly on the back of the shell of Harry’s ears where she knows he’s the ticklish. Harry lets out a loud squeak in the dimly lit quiet kitchen, retaliating by tickling Sophia’s sides in her chunky jumper.

“BUNNY!” Sophia screeches loudly, giggles erupting from her squirming body, trying to get away from Harry’s close hold on her.

Harry’s own laughter is ringing all around the compact space of the bungalow's little kitchen. Sophia’s cheeks spread wide in an unrelenting smile, it almost hurts from how spread out it is just like her sides that Harry has still yet to stop attacking with his deft fingers despite Sophia’s lack of attempt in tickling him back.

“Bunny, stop, please!” Sophia pleads in complete laughter, hands landing on Harry’s hips to squeeze firmly as an attempt to stop his merciless motions. “I promise I won’t tickle your cute little ears anymore, just please stop tickling my sides as well.”

Harry does stop after she says that, Sophia tilting her head up to be able to look at the tall boy properly. She sees the glint of undeniable fondness in Harry’s green gems as he looks down at her, though something in his smile stirs questions on her mind having not seen that particular touch before.

The feeling gradually gets defeated by the wild flapping butterflies on her stomach when the familiar smirk of Harry graces his features that never fails to send Sophia hurling in a dreamy, hot daze whenever it’s directed towards her.

“Oh would you look at that,” Harry breaks their quiet reprieve in a tone of light surprise, “we’re under a mistletoe.”

Sophia feels her heart lurch in the implication of Harry’s words, before confusion settles on her features knowing well that there isn’t a single mistletoe in this hazardous too-white Winter Wonderland of a bungalow they got styled for them.

Harry’s close and attentive eyes, probably spot the dips in Sophia’s brow in plain confusion. He puckers his lips and motions it above, eyes raising upwards as well in a cheeky manner. Sophia follows his line of vision, mouth gaping open at what he’s done.

Harry has his free arm raised above them, the recent sugar cookie he had stolen is held between his sparkling gold manicured fingers, the mistletoe shaped cookie pointed perfectly on the top of their heads.

“Bunny, wh-”

“Alexa, play Mistletoe by Justin Bieber.”

Sophia doesn’t know where to be most shocked about. For Harry’s rather rude interruption of her question, the fact that there’s apparently a working AI in the bungalow that she has not been informed about, or the one that Harry apparently knows how to operate one despite being a grandpa in today’s advanced and helpful technologies.

The answer hits Sophia quickly straight to her gobsmacked soul, and it’s not even in the list of the things she’d pointed out above.

That irritatingly pretty and attractive smirk of his is still present on Harry’s face, green stars locking intently with Sophia’s own surprised clouded eyes, the Christmas bells of her favorite holiday song echoing in the background.

Sophia doesn’t even have the capacity to hear Justin Bieber’s angelic voice star singing, all attention wrapped on the man before her as he starts singing along with the song he despises the most every Christmas time.

“It’s the most beautiful time of the year,

Lights fill the streets, spreading so much cheer.

I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

That’s the most surprising thing out of anything. Harry Styles and his deep melodious voice singing Sophia's favorite Christmas song in front of her, for her.

Sophia is so surprised that Harry’s actually singing it seriously, not like all the other times he’s done so mockingly in the past, that she doesn’t notice Harry placing back the mistletoe cookie on the kitchen counter, quickly moving away from their close distance to sing his heart out in a calm breeze.

“I don’t wanna miss out on the holiday,

But I can’t stop staring at your face.

I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

“Sunflower, sing it with me!” Harry swiftly glides across the kitchen space, picking-up two baking spatulas on the kitchen counter stand, throwing one to an unmoving Sophia who thankfully catches it. Harry winks all unhelpfully at her as he continues the chorus, body moving side to side like the total performer that he is.

“With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, Sunflower, come and join me already! I can’t be the only one having a blast here!”

And who was Sophia to think she even has a drop of ability in her to resist such a crazy request?

So Sophia catches her bearings back, returning Harry’s cheeky and encouraging smile as she briskly sang the second verse along with the Biebs, placing her all in her voice like all the damn time she shook her bloody arse while jamming to this to wherever Harry and her were spending Christmas the past years.

“Everyone’s gathering around the fire,

Chestnuts roasting like a hot July.

I should be chilling with my folks, I know,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

With Sophia’s hand clutched tightly on the candy cane printed baking spatula acting as her microphone, she winks at a gleefully swaying Harry for him to take the next part. Sophia giggles in absolute wonder as Harry dramatically leans his head back to sing with his own Christmas tree printed baking spatula under his lips.

“Words on the street, Santa’s coming tonight.

Reindeers flying through the sky so high.

I should be making a list, I know,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

Sophia cackles loudly when Harry enthusiastically sings the ‘I know’ part of the song with complete hand gestures with his index finger raised up and going down in a swivel just like the curl of his voice all singer diva like.

Harry doesn’t let her get away from not singing though, coasting towards her with the captivating move of his body, swaying to the holiday tune like a total dreamboat. His floating movements placed Sophia in a bubbly stupor, making her sing along with him in the chorus in an encompassing carefree bubble containing them in.

“With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, under the mistletoe.”

The pair’s voices harmonizing flawlessly, reeling their buoyant bodies near each other as they continued singing the chorus with gazes locked, matching smiles of exuberance makes Sophia’s mind all lovely-whirly.

“With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, under the mistletoe.”

Because it has been previously established that Sophia and Harry work in perfect synch without the need for any verbal instructions, Sophia takes the bridge by herself while trying to not end up toppling in laughter at Harry’s quick cheeky commentary while she sings Justin’s words.

“Ayy love, the wise man followed the star.”

“What star, sunflower?”

“The way I followed my heart.”

“Oh really? Did you use a sat nav?”

“And it led me to a miracle.”

“Aww, did you just call me a miracle? Baby, stop!”

“Ayy love, don’t you buy me nothing,”

“Why not sunflower? Tell me why!”

“Cause I am feeling one thing,”

“Don’t you dare break into a One Direction song you bugger!”

Sophia rolls her eyes at Harry’s comment, smiling with her pearly whites on full display before continuing the song. Red manicured fingertips tapping her lips at the following words.

“Your lips on my lips.

That’s a merry, merry Christmas.”

And she winks suggestively causing a howling laughter spilling out of Harry. His pointer finger coming up to wiggle side to side in a disapproving nature at her.

“Naughty, naughty, Santa won’t likey!”

The opposite of Harry’s words is displayed through his next actions. He closes the miniscule distance between Sophia and him, palms landing on the dips of her waist in an anchoring hold. Sophia’s head raises up to look at her best friend in their new close proximity, arms raising up as well to snake around the back of Harry’s neck, forearms resting comfortably on his shoulders as they gently sway each other in tune of the first verse once again.

Except this time, they sing the words straight to each other’s beaming faces, voices dropping in volume to accommodate their intimate distance. Harry’s deep tone expertly hitting Justin’s high ones as Sophia sang softly along, not one to resist the candy-sweet feeling in her veins when being lucky enough to hear Harry sing this closely and this effortlessly.

“It’s the most beautiful time of the year,

Light’s fill the street spreading so much cheer.

I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.

I don’t wanna miss out on the holiday,

But I can’t stop staring at your face.”

‘Same Justin, same.’ Sophia thinks as an afterthought as she feels her cheek heating-up abnormally while staring at Harry’s handsome face, the colorful Christmas lights of the mini tree in the kitchen illuminating the fine edges of his features.

“I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

Sophia hopes Harry will not notice her blushing pink cheeks, the dim lit room increasing her chances. But the way Harry’s eyes begin to light up in a semblance of astounded recognition, tells Sophia otherwise. She can't find it in herself to be embarrassed though, especially when Harry’s thumb enters the picture as he cradles one hand on the plump of her flushed cheek, softly stroking her skin there with the same glint of amazement in his eyes.

The last chorus of the song comes, Sophia and Harry exchanging the words between them in complete reverence like every single one of them is the last they’re about to speak to each other.

“With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, under the mistletoe.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, under the mistletoe.

Under the mistletoe.”

As the chorus fades into the outro, so does Sophia’s voice. There’s something in the look that Harry’s giving her that sends a sudden chill in her bones, a cutting gaze of realization.

If earlier at the end of their dinner, Sophia had felt the world fall under her feet in the stark realization that she couldn’t read her best friend for the first time in her life, right in this moment it’s the complete 360 degree turn.

Harry’s wide green gems are staring at Sophia in utter earnest, sparkling irises are suddenly so open, so vulnerable, giving Sophia the key to the answers of all her earlier confusions.

She wanted the answers earlier, couldn’t take the unknown expectant look Harry had given her after she had read that note on the folded gold paper he gave her.

And now she has it, can see it, can feel it in his gaze, can reach for it if she wanted to because Harry’s look tells her he’d willingly give her anything she had wanted in that moment. Sophia only needs to ask and Harry would be toppling over on his endless limbs to make it happen.

But Sophia is scared, and has the right to feel scared when Harry likes dropping serious shit like this on her when she’s completely unguarded.

That’s why on the outro, it’s only Harry who sings it. Voice much softer than ever, whispering tenderly as if he’s singing directly to Sophia’s rapidly beating heart. They’re practically slow dancing at this point to be honest.

“Kiss me underneath the mistletoe,

Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh, oh, oh, oh.

Kiss me underneath the mistletoe,

Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh, oh, oh, oh.”

The apparent change of lyrics instantly creates a deeper flush on Sophia’s cheeks, the whole fucking zoo migrating to her stomach as it thumps wildly at Harry’s words dripping with honesty. No traces of jest is given to Sophia, not in his words, not in his tone, not in his touch, and surely not in his gaze.

Harry slowly drops his forehead to reach the level of Sophia’s own, delicately resting his skin on hers. Sophia’s gaze drops downwards, eyes skimming Harry’s tattooed arms holding her body securely to his chest. She can’t seem to look Harry in the eye, she can feel the heat of its stare on her suddenly too-warm skin. Sophia settles in breathing in Harry’s comforting scent deeply, in the same pattern that Harry’s own breath hits her senses with the tip of his nose affectionately rubbing against the slope of her slender nose.

Sophia feels overwhelmed to say the least. The main priority of arranging her whirling thoughts has resulted in her lack of attention that Harry’s lips are barely an inch apart from her own plump ones.

“Did you mean it?” Sophia whispers, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. She needs to say something before Harry does something he might regret if he has yet to understand the depth of Sophia’s emotions for him.

This is going to be their first kiss together, and bloody curse Sophia for believing that she’d rather not continue with it if Harry wouldn’t want to have something more with her after. Harry Styles pining shaped heart or not, Sophia is still anchored by her self-integrity.

“Hm?” Harry hums, lips moving some inches away with his long lashes blinking, hitting the top most part of Sophia’s cheekbones from how close their faces have remained, “That I want you to show me how you love me, and how you should do that by kissing me underneath a mistletoe? Yes, sunflower. I mean it.”

That’s not really helpful, in Sophia’s opinion.

It’s like already a given fact that Sophia would want to do that and Harry is not completely dumb to not know even just a smidge about her crush on him. There’s only so many times Sophia can be caught blatantly staring at Harry’s bare, hot, tattooed chest without it giving Harry a slight peek into her pining thoughts.

“Not that,” Sophia says breathlessly because it’s still a bombshell hearing her best friend openly tell her that he wants Sophia to kiss him like she’s not been dreaming how that would feel ever since she understood what kissing meant.

“Dinner, I was referring to our dinner earlier. The golden paper and all that.”

Harry hums once again before replying, the flat side of index finger coming up to stroke Sophia’s lashes gently like some sort of mascara wand. Sophia is taken back to a time where a young Harry would stay cuddled on the couch with her, a Christmas movie forgotten in the background as he instead maps Sophia’s face with gentle fingertips like he’s memorizing each and every crease and crevice of her round features.

“Of course I meant it.” Harry straight-away replies in a firm whisper, “Thinking back now, maybe I shouldn’t have written it on a piece of paper that’s generally known for having jokes in them, but I just get so bloody flustered when it comes to you and my emotions for you. It makes me do impulsive and ridiculous shit that I should probably think over better before going along with it. Though I can’t say I regret anything, not even singing to bloody Justin Bieber because it’s your favorite Christmas song and who was I to not capitalize on that when I finally fucking admit my feelings for you on Christmas Eve.”

And if that’s not a verbal response to any of Sophia’s confusion and worries of the repercussions of wanting more, then Sophia is a right madman.

Sophia defends that she has already, self-proclaimed since earlier that she is a right loon this Christmas Eve, so she thinks it’s justified when she asks a question again instead of replying to Harry’s rather abrupt confession.

“How about that other time? In Italy this summer. Did you mean that?”

There must be something in Sophia’s tone that sounded urgent, almost pleading for an honest answer that makes Harry detach their glued faces to be able to look at her properly.

This time, Sophia doesn’t scare away from finding Harry’s eyes, feeling a sense of relief when she doesn’t see him frowning at her endless questions. Instead, Harry is even giving her that fond-filled smile like the one over breakfast when Sophia simply giggled at his self-deprecating joke of being a gangly giant.

“Yes, I meant it.” Harry replies without any faffing about, both hands coming up to cradle Sophia’s full cheeks in his warm palms while his green pools brighten in remembrance. “I meant it when I said that if by 30 years-old I still have yet to find the one for me, I’d marry you in a heartbeat because you’re-”

“My soulmate for life.” Sophia utters together with Harry, the four words that have caused an epiphany that solidified her emotions towards her best friend. The same four words that have hunted Sophia’s heart ever since they came back to real life from that absolute dream of an Italian holiday.

Harry’s grin might just break his face from how big it is upon realizing Sophia remembered his words, verbatim. “Yes, that’s you sunflower,” lovingly bopping the tip of her nose with a gentle pad of his finger, repeating the heart-plummeting words, “my soulmate for life, that’s you baby.”

Sophia finds herself reaching for Harry’s wrists that’s still raised up cupping her cheeks, circling her dainty hands around them firmly to ground herself in the moment, making a conscious effort to picture this moment in her memory forever.

“Again, you make me so flustered and do stupid shit,” Harry continues in a light giggle, “so it probably wasn’t the best idea to tell you those word while I was Italian sun drunk, red wine drunk, and a doting Sophia drunk. Nevertheless, I’m telling you now that I meant those words in every thing that I have, my whole entity and soul if you will. I’m not even going to actively look for others when I already know you’re my person, the one I’d marry and knock-up after.”

“Bunny!” Sophia laughs in total surprise at the sudden change in angle of their conversation.

“What?” Harry giggles gleefully at the way Sophia widens her eyes at him, “It’s true! Would it suffice you if I say instead: you’re my person, the one I’d marry and love eternally, and in that process of eternal love, I’d knock you up with my children.”

Truly, Sophia has no words left to say to that.

Here goes Harry cheekily smiling at her, just confessed that he feels the same way as Sophia of wanting more. Except his wanting more is apparently way more than Sophia has ever envisioned about with him including babies and knocking her up.

“How about you use the term: get you pregnant, so as to not make me sound like your breeder instead of your future wife who’d bear you our future babies.”

It’s nice to see the etching of surprise on Harry’s face, all movements stilling. He might have thought more when it comes to them and having babies, but Sophia has certainly reached the thoughts of more with them being married and all.

The boy likes everything personalized, placing his name on whatever he can get his hands on. It’s not Sophia’s complete fault that she has developed this amazing idea of being one of those that have Harry’s surname on it.

“First you don’t give me my joke in my Christmas Cracker,” Harry points out, “and then now you’re tempting me about marriage, and domesticity with you? That’s rather cruel, sunflower. Don’t tell me things like that if you can’t take the extent of sharing the name ‘Styles’. I’ll have it, me, imprinted on you in whatever way I can.”

Harry said Sophia was cruel, Sophia thinks she’s far from it. However, she can make that Christmas wish of his come true.

“How about we start with you imprinting your name on my lips?” Sophia’s question further solidifies Harry’s flabbergasted stupor, “Snog me silly until all I can only remember is your name?”

Harry actually groans at the clear jab at his earlier note, forehead dropping back against Sophia’s, breathing heavily at the latter’s smirking face.

“I like that you’re acting this confident, winding me up so easily after knowing my real feelings for you. But I can’t just simply kiss you without knowing how you feel. I’m not going to be cross if you genuinely do not think of me in that w-”

Sophia rolls her eyes in the hardest way she has ever done so, cutting Harry’s words of utter shit with her own.

“I love you, bunny. I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

And then she’s crashing her waiting lips on Harry’s, levitating on the kitchen floor of the bungalow when Sophia’s finally got a taste of Harry’s sweet, plump lips. No teeth or nipping, just the wet and silky glide of tongues and lips as they both savored each other’s sugary taste, their hands roaming each other’s bodies in loving caresses, nothing brash or heated.

Sophia allows Harry to adore her in this novel way, his lips not leaving any inch of her skin as Harry moves it to litter sweet kisses on the entirety of her face. Sophia, basking in all the loving attention she’s getting from her bunny, could never comprehend that this is how good it would feel when she finally got that more, finally brave enough to to reach for that more.

Harry’s kisses are that good that the last thing Sophia has in her mind before Harry carries her to the living room to continue making-out, is how she just found a deeper love for her favorite Christmas song.

It would make perfect sense later on when she finally gets Harry to make a Christmas song because he’s an easily flustered sap for Sophia. Would do about anything for her like making a cover of Mistletoe because it reminds her of that life-altering time when they confessed their love for each other that one Christmas Eve.

It’s the 25th of December, Christmas morning.

Not like any Christmas morning though. This year, Sophia and Harry don’t find the need to rush downstairs to gobble-up the fake Santa treats they’ve essentially saved for them to make it in time for the opening of presents with their family.

This Christmas morning, Sophia and Harry don’t need to go down any stairs as the two fell asleep in each other’s arms at the couch in the living room after making-out all night with the telly showing Home Alone becoming their background noise. At least it shows that they actually tried to detach from each other, but Sophia couldn’t just continue watching Kevin’s mom frantically realize he was missing in the airport when Harry was right there beside her, sneaking kisses on her neck and collarbone by pulling at the edge of her garish Christmas jumper.

This Christmas morning, the pair also don’t need to rush anything because it’s their first Christmas alone, just the two of them. Pressies can wait under the tree that is just in front of them in the living room. They need more time to spend with each other in this new chapter of their relationship without the chaos of torn gift wrappers and heartfelt Christmas cards from friends and family.

But, the most distinct feature of this year’s Christmas morning is that Sophia and Harry do not have the specific appetite to eat their sweet, Christmas spread. Harry for one, is up for a different delicacy this morning.

“I’m going to eat you out. I’m craving for your pussy this Christmas morning.”

That’s the same sentence that greeted Sophia this morning upon waking-up, feeling the cold seep between Harry’s warm body plastered on top of her. It was snowing outside that’s why Harry’s body heat and the heating of the house was not enough to soothe her cold self, but Harry didn't give her ample time to get another blanket upstairs when her bunny began giving her unrelenting kisses.

And then those kisses turned heated way too quickly, the cold situation turning ironic because instead of getting more layers to warm them up, Sophia and Harry are discarding their matching ugly Christmas jumpers, pyjama bottoms following next until they’re both just down in their underwear.

Except Sophia has her knickers pushed to the side now, Harry kneeling on the carpeted floor with Sophia perched at the edge of the couch breathing heavy moans as Harry’s ravenous tongue leaves wet licks and loud sucks on her pussy lips.

“Good?” Harry asks in that grave morning voice of his, Sophia realizing how much more tingles it delivers to her soul knowing that deep drawl is also laced with that of want, and arousal for her.

“Yeah.” Sophia replies breathlessly, “Holy shit.” she suddenly curses after Harry blows air on her spread-open cunt, everything in full display for Harry.

Harry chuckles at her winded reaction, fingers coming into action through gently rubbing and toying of her pussy lips, never prodding inside despite the wetness leaking out of Sophia clearly suggesting she needs more.

“I haven’t even touched that special button of yours and I’m already getting all the sweet noises from you.”

That makes Sophia open her eyes from being closed as she lazed on the feeling of Harry spreading her wetness at the entire surface of her pink, puffy mound.

She gives him a deadpan look, “My clit.”

Harry stares up at her from where he’s back to licking at her cunt, the traces of her early pleasure staining the full of his lips, “Yeah, you’re special button.” he repeats.

Sophia rolls her eyes, “My clit. Don’t call it a ‘special button’ that’s like so cheesy and so not hot, bunny.”

That makes Harry chuckle because he’s apparently the type of person who laughs during sex when their partner tries to say what she does and doesn’t like. Sophia is given no time to criticize his choice of words when she feels her pussy being spread wider than it already was.

“Okay,” Harry smirks from where he’s got his fingers unfurling Sophia’s cunt like some never-ending wrapped pressie, “Let’s see if I hear any more complaints when I get my lips on your clit now.”

Sophia knows with the way Harry’s got her pussy lips spread open, that her clit is definitely in full display for him. But, it’s still a shock to her entire system when Harry dives down straight to the sensitive nub, lips puckered like a vacuum as Harry sucked deep, and hard on her clit without regard for the sudden spurt of viscous wetness releasing from Sophia at the deep cutting pleasure of finally getting some action on her clit. The thick wetness surely stained the couch and hit Harry’s chin.

“Oh, oh god.” Sophia mewls when Harry removes his lips from her clit only to smile devilishly at her wrecked state with her wetness lingering at his lips. Harry quickly gathers the thick gush that came out from Sophia earlier, furiously scooping some and rubbing it on her now highly sensitive and swollen clit.

“Fuck, jesus christ..oh bunny.” Sophia moans loudly, eyes closing due to the intense intoxication Harry’s giving her cunt, and that fiery green gaze pointed on her naked, pleased form, is enough to intensify everything.

“Open your eyes, sunflower.” Harry says encouragingly, tone laced with firmness that Sophia could not fathom to ignore. “I need to see your eyes when I make you feel good with just my hands and mouth. Wouldn’t want my baby to miss everything I’m going to do for her.”

Sophia already knew that Harry is generally a people pleaser, finds comfort and joy in making people receive some semblance of pleasure from being around him or from something he’s done for them. She just didn’t realized how that facet of his is escalated when it comes to the realm of sexual pleasure.

She gets front row seats right now though, Harry’s plump lips back to suctioning her clit, two of his massive fingers now breaching the opening of her pussy lips, her unrelenting gush of wetness making it easy to enter her hot, throbbing cunt.

“Oh my god, you’re insane, oh bloody shit!” Sophia cries when Harry sucks hard on her clit, tongue pressing hard on the sensitive button just as the same time as his fingers began ramming her pussy in the fastest and deepest way it has ever been finger-fucked.

What makes Sophia’s cries of pleasure ring louder, is Harry’s potent stare with his green, wide eyes burning holes in Sophia’s delirious tinted irises. The unmistakable look of simmering desire is present in his gaze, the most prominent one though is Harry’s heady gaze of wanting to hear Sophia praise his amazing, world-shattering actions he’s doing for her.

“You’re so good, so amazing, bunny.” Sophia moans out, hands reaching down, curling in a tight fist Harry’s messy locks, “Yeah, fuck me like that with your mouth..jesus! Your fingers are so deep, my pussy is going to be gaping wide after this, oh..oh god that’s so fucking good!”

Harry groans at the last bit of Sophia’s comment, fingers crooking inside her cunt in that spongy, soul-numbing spot inside her. That toe-curling feeling spurs Sophia with her words.

“You like that? You like to hear how my pussy is going to be so gaped, been fucked so good just after your big fingers being inside my soaked pussy? Those fucking amazing fingers meant for my cunt to get fucked on?”

Sophia’s met with a harsh nip to her clit making her screech in utter ecstasy as the pain and pleasure collide in one massive collision of goodness. She thinks that it better be that good from all the F-bombs she’s throwing.

“I bet,” Sophia continues after gaining back her breath, “you’d love it even more that my pussy is so open from how thoroughly deep you’ve fucked me that you can just stick your cock inside me without any problem. Do you like the thought of that bunny? My dripping pussy needing your cock inside to feel me up? I thi-BLOODY HELL!”

Another thing Sophia learns is just a mention of Harry’s cock being anywhere near Sophia’s pussy, apparently makes her bunny a fucking beast of a sexual being. Sophia screams in surprise when Harry all but rips the cotton of her panties, freeing her modesty from any restraints.

Harry is literally rubbing Sophia’s pussy raw, as he quickly replaced his mouth on her clit with his other hand. Now having furious attention on her clit, and Harry’s merciless fingers fucking deep insider her pulsating cunt, Sophia is left crying in pleasure on the couch. Hands grasped tightly on the white sheet-cover, mouth perpetually hanging open watching Harry’s smug, devious smile.

“I think that was enough talking for you, sunflower.” Harry rasps, hands not stopping their ministrations on her pussy like the total dark magic that he is, the sloshing wet sound of his fingers digging deeper into her cunt is echoing around the room. “Now I need you to come like a good girl because you deserve it from giving me so many kind words earlier. Too kind in fact that I think you also deserve to get fuck on my cock after this. Do you like the thought of that, sunflower?”

Harry’s taunting words of her earlier statement is the last thing Sophia registers before she’s babbling words of sexual fervor. Her back arching as she chases Harry’s unrelenting pounding fingers every time it so much as retracts even just a centimeter from the inside of her searing cunt.

“Yes, please. Fuck, please bunny!” Sophia cries, feeling her stomach coil in her near release, chasing her nearing orgasm by moving her lower body to meet Harry’s soaked fingers unabashedly. “Please fuck me, bunny!”

“Aren’t I already doing so, huh baby?” Harry chuckles darkly, index and thumb pinching her clit as Sophia turns to an absolute mess of shrieking moans.

“Yes, yes!” Sophia chants deliriously, body rocking faster, wanting his fingers deeper into her cunt. “Wanna get fucked by your cock later. My pussy needs to be impaled by your big cock so bad, bunny please! Please fuck me! Fuckmefuckmefuckm-”

And that Harry did.

Sophia wasn’t even able to finish her ardent cursing as she feels everything drip out of her like a fucking stream of sexual zenith.

“Fucking hell!” Harry curses loudly as Sophia’s thick ropes of cum coats his entire hand that he slowly removed from her flushed red, throbbing raw pussy. The strings of her release sticking in every small crevice of Harry’s large hand.

“I told you,” Sophia says while catching her breath, tired and sated smile on her lips. “I don’t need much prep if you just wanted to stick it in earlier.” She slumps her tired body on the warm couch, the cushions feeling toasty despite the clear signs of the snow falling that’s peeking at the living room’s small window.

Sophia blames Harry for making her feel too warm during winter in England, and the audacity of the man to make her sweat on Christmas morning is simply preposterous.

Speaking of said man, Harry had stood-up from his kneeling position on the floor, eyes rolling at Sophia’s earlier comment with his own pleased smile giving away no real trace of annoyance.

“Sunflower, I think I made it pretty clear after that,” Harry purses his lips to point at Sophia’s still uncovered modesty, the latter finding no shame of being arse-naked in front of Harry now that they’re both clear with what they want in their relationship. Having her cum-covered cunt on full display seems to be appreciated in Harry’s hungry lingering stares anyway.

“I wasn’t exactly under the intention of just preparing you for my dick.” Harry notes further, winking at Sophia’s still heaving body, “Baby, you better get used to my pussy cravings because now that I’ve gotten a taste of you, this,” he brings his whole palm up for emphasis, his big paw that’s covered in Sophia’s creamy wetness, “simply won’t be enough.”

And Harry brings his littlest finger to his mouth, widely opening, tongue-first as he sucks on his little digit obscenely making through work of cleaning Sophia’s release on that single finger. The lewd popping sound as he releases his pinky from his mouth is the only thing Sophia’s ardor clouded soul can comprehend.

Sophia misses the first few words Harry says with that devious tilt back on his features, only catching the latter part of his remark.

“You ready?” Harry asks in clear anticipation.

“Huh?” Sophia dumbly replies because that’s apparently what sex with her best friend does to her: lust-loopy, desire-dumb, sex-speechless.

Harry knows what he’s doing to her, the visceral effect of their first intimate rendezvous not lost in his too-proud glinting eyes, “I was asking if you were ready for my cock? Because I didn’t just want to assume that having your legs exposed like that is a clear invitation for my prick to just stick it right in your leaking, open hole.”

Harry’s slightly mocking tone of Sophia’s early statement was more of an awakening push than the blatant crudeness of his chosen words. She sits up her slouched body, bringing her legs up as she plants both feet on the couch with no single intent of closing her legs together like a demure lady who’s trying hard to get. In fact, Sophia makes sure her legs are opened wide at its maximum, hands gently gripping the sides of her knees to showcase her flexibility as she pulls it backwards to bare more of her messy pussy to Harry with her knees nearly touching the backrest of the couch.

The desired effect is not lost, Harry’s eyes widening and glowing darker just a tad more from how it’s already been. Sophia wants more though, wants that blazing fire back on his gems like the same way it had scorched her skin when she had said all that filth earlier straight to his face as Harry ate her out like it’s the most delicious Christmas feast ever.

So Sophia decides to cup her own wet mound in answer to Harry’s previous question, eyes purposely rounding innocently as she bats her long lashes at Harry’s smoldering pools of green. Said focused beams are now stuck looking at Sophia’s dainty fingers spreading her own release at the entirety of her pussy, making everything messier down there. Sophia delivers a sound and stinging tap directly to her clit, the wet sound reverberates mingled with Sophia’s hungered whine.

“Bunny, how many times to I have to cry-out in pleasure for you to really fuck me that would make you actually take out your cock? You’re seriously so overdressed right now.”

Harry groans in a symphony of arousal and agony, Sophia can only imagine how his dick probably hurts from still being restrained in his Polar bear-printed boxers because he’s an actual child who takes Christmas outfits very seriously even down to his pants. Except that what Sophia sees is nowhere near innocence with how obscenely Harry is tenting said festive boxers.

Harry doesn’t even reply to her clear teasing, just quickly takes to action by freeing his cock from any more barriers. Sophia almost fears that she’d rendered Harry banter-less which is a big no-no considering she loves that side of Harry so much. The table turns quite drastically though, Sophia being the one proper voiceless upon Harry’s succeeding shameless actions.

The moment Harry’s boxers are thrown somewhere around the living room, his extremely hard cock springs straight-up to his toned stomach, pre-come trickling from the engorged tip of his cock smearing just slightly above his belly button. The whole girth of his huge prick is flushed red, Sophia licking her lips in brazen delight at the resemblance of its dark hue from a candy cane, thinking of how much she would want to have a lick of Harry’s dick instead of the minty treat.

Those wishful thoughts stay as wishes in Sophia’s dismay as Harry proceeds to take a hold of his own cock, clearly missing the entire prerogative of Christmas which is the spirit of gift giving and he just took away Sophia’s morning gift of being able to get her mouth on that thick and loaded length just for his own pleasure.

But then Harry does the most unprecedented thing you can ever do on Christmas morning.

Harry begins to jerk his cock off using his palm that’s still covered in Sophia’s cum. How the fuck has her wetness not dried yet?

Sophia’s eyes bug-out of its sockets at the extremely glorious and dirty image standing in front of her. Harry has his head thrown back in pleasure, long chocolate locks slightly shielding his sweaty, pleasure-contorted face as his hand that’s coated with Sophia’s creamy substances kept moving up and down in a frenzied manner.

Sophia actually whines while watching Harry vulgarly jerk his own cock off and illicit moans of sexual rapture by his own doing.

It’s simply un-fucking-fair is what it is and Sophia makes sure it doesn’t stay that way any longer, whimpering loudly in a tone of honest distress which gives her the opportunity to get Harry’s desire-painted eyes back on her, where they should be.

“Bunny, you really have to fuck me already with your cock before I actually start crying!”

It was enough of a threat to get Harry lunging on her naked form on the couch. Body colliding with hers as Harry takes seat on the gap between her widely parted thighs. Sophia’s moan of surprised delight at Harry accidentally pressing his proud-standing cock on her bare folds is masked by Harry enveloping her mouth with a straight out passion-riddled kiss.

Sophia absolutely melts at the attention of Harry’s eager kisses that she’s missed from her pussy having it undivided time earlier. Just like most things involving Harry’s mouth, his pink broad tongue is out in complete keenness as it seeks to lick, flick, and tangle with Sophia’s own. The kissing is wet and messy, Harry’s cock is still pressed firmly on Sophia’s throbbing folds from how plastered their naked torsos are, letting moans of pleasure leave their lips whenever the tip of his leaking dick comes into contact with her sensitive clit.

Sophia has to stop Harry from the clear trajectory of his next action, big paws already dropping down to cup Sophia’s breasts.

“Baby, please.” Sophia says in a shaky tone, catching her breath as Harry bends his head downward to capture a nipple of hers to his searing mouth, green blazed eyes locking on hers. Sophia moans, eyes closing for a minute as Harry expertly circles her rosy bud with his avid tongue.

“Bunny, please.” Sophia repeats more purposefully, trembling hands coming up to clutch on Harry’s dark curls to pull his sinful mouth away from her breast. “No more, want your dick in me already.”

Harry listens straight away, lips leaving one last deep suck on her nipple that makes Sophia’s toes curl at the heady feeling. The popping noise and the string of saliva connecting Harry’s lips from her tit brings Sophia back in the present, mind still hazy but clear enough to still notice Harry’s stupidly handsome smirk back on his dimpled cheeks.

“Are you sure, sunflower?” Harry asks unhelpfully, “Are you really ready for me to put it in?” and the twat intentionally rocks his body forward for the tip of his stiff cock to slide on Sophia’s constantly wet pussy lips just enough for Sophia to feel the ghost of his leaking tip at her winking opening.

If the resounding high-pitched moan that Sophia releases can be any indication, Sophia answers Harry’s annoying question by moving her body to further hump on his cock that frustratingly just glides on her pussy lips instead of breaching her cunt like where it’s supposed to be.

“Bloody shit,” Sophia whimpers, head thrown back at the couch as Harry can’t resist to grind with her movements, “is this enough for an answer for you to fucking get on with it already?”

And because Sophia will actually sob in utter agony if Harry even makes a cheeky comment as a response, she proposes,

“Bunny, I’d let you eat me out again later after you’ve properly fuck me. But please, I just need you already.”

That halts any of Harry’s movements. Sophia doesn’t know if it’s because her bunny is a wild boy that enjoys orally pleasuring women that he made a Grammy-winning song about it, or because the mention of Sophia needing him, always gets him weak at the knees trying to quickly comply with her wishes to make her feel better whether for sexual inhibitions or not.

Harry nods his head, sharp jawline clenching in determination as he eyes Sophia with the softest look he has ever given her since the start of their first intimate moment. Sophia’s heart absurdly flutters at the sudden shift of their sexually-charged bubble to that of a sugary, pillow sweet one.

“Okay, sunflower. You have me.” Harry’s smile is gentle, the excited spark in his eyes is not missed nor unmatched in Sophia’s own. “I’ll just go and get some condoms upstairs.” he says, standing up far too quickly for Sophia’s still passion-pureed brain.

“Bunny, stop!” Sophia whines in alarm, “Don’t leave me!”

Stark naked and still outrageously hard Harry, standing right by the arch of the living room entrance, would be funny in any other situations. But right now, Sophia feels nowhere near any sense of jest. Harry seems to pick-up on that note too, the pair always working and thinking as a unit.

“Sunflower, I’m not leaving you,” Harry placates Sophia, though unmoving from his position of leaving. “Baby, I’m just going to get some supplies upstairs because I didn’t really expect to have Christmas morning sex with you.”

Sophia’s brows furrow, “What supplies do you need?”

Harry looks amused at her question, “The condoms, sunflower. They’re upstairs.”

That makes Sophia pout, “Why do you need to get condoms? Are we not doing it bare?”

If Harry wasn’t already weak at the knees earlier from Sophia saying she needs him, then hearing Sophia’s question makes him look like he’s literally, about to drop on his knees in shock. Sophia giggles in her own amusement when Harry braces himself by finding hold on the sides of the archway of the living room wall as he almost stumbled on his feet from Sophia’s casual words.

Harry actually groans at her, green eyes big and pleading, “Baby. Don’t talk about going bare with me when you’re only joking, that’s not nice at all.”

Smirking, Sophia tilts her head in interest, “Who said I was joking? I want you to fuck me bare, bunny.” she says in pure honesty.

The expression of solid surprise displayed on Harry’s face is like he’s just hearing everything for the first time again. It’s also not missed in the way he stutters his next words.

“A-are you sure, sunflower? Cause I..I’ve never done it ba-bare before. Ha-have you?”

It's a genuine question, Sophia is aware. But it’s kind of really rude for her best friend to think that her Harry-Styles-forever-beating heart would even ever consider having someone else do her bare except him.

That’s why the fiery tone couldn’t be hidden in Sophia’s voice as she says, “Of fucking course, I haven’t! Why the fuck would you think I’d let anyone do me bare when you’re the one I’d been dreaming to have inside me like that since I knew what sex with someone you love sounded like.”

And that’s maybe a big confession-bomb to drop in this moment considering Harry’s still rock hard and naked across the living room for her, but Sophia rejoices in the way her answer made Harry curse loudly.

“Bloody hell, you’re killing me with your words, sunflower!”

Because Sophia lives for killing Harry’s confident demeanor every once in a while, she asks with a raised brow, “Why? Have you had sex without a condom before that’s why you don’t want to be my first anymore?”

Harry actually gasps in wounded offense, “Fuck no! That never even crossed my mind except when it’s you that I’m picturing having bare sex with while I’m jerking off in some hotel room or shit.”

Interesting information, Sophia notes, smirking at Harry’s flustered state, “Then it’s settled. We’ll be each other’s first and last bare sex experience, right now this Christmas morning!” because she’s happy, Sophia claps her hands in excitement.

But Harry wants to remain a twat and asks, “Are you really sure about this sunflower? Like this is a big relationship stuff we’re going to pass and we haven’t even been intimate together except for today.”

Sophia rolls her eyes, “Yes, I’m so sure about this, bunny. I don’t know about you, but my soul has been pretty much committed to you since I knew I loved you more than friends. Having sex without a condom is not some big thing for me to think or even do anymore when it comes to you.”

The way Harry straightens his body upward is a clear indication he’s preening from Sophia’s words, “Really?” he asks dreamily, like his cock is not impressively still hard for him to be warranted such a gentle tone, “That’s so sweet, baby. But how do you even know I’m clean?”

Sophia groans in growing frustration, “Why are you asking so many questions? I know you’re clean because Jeff gave me your medical results before you went on tour.”

Harry frowns, “Why the hell would Jeff give you that?”

“Because you wouldn’t take it back after he already used it for work purposes and he hates clutter so he gave it to me.”

“Still. That doesn’t excuse the fact that it’s invasion of my privacy that he just willingly gave my medical resu-”

“Are we seriously going to be arguing over Jeff or do you not want to see your cum leaking out of my cunt?”

Not even a second later and a growling Harry is cornering Sophia on the couch looking like the ravenous sexual beast he was at the beginning of their fucking.

Sophia’s putty under Harry’s firm hands as he easily manhandles her by flipping her laxed body on the couch, stomach and chest pressed tightly on the soft cushions while Sophia feels Harry kneel in between her flat legs.

“You asking me if I want to see my cum leak out of your pussy?” Harry suddenly rasps on Sophia’s ear, his body heat looming above her arching back as he carefully but firmly gathers her blonde locks and pulls at it for Sophia’s blissed-out face to look directly at his.

Sophia only whimpers wantonly after seeing Harry’s starving eyes, nodding her head when Harry tightens his grasp around it, eyelids threatening to close at the shot of burning rapture shooting up her spine.

“Words, baby. I need to hear your pretty voice.” Harry instructs, lips curling into a devious smirk at the way his words had made Sophia’s eyes dilate in passion-filled wonder.

“Yes.” Sophia whispers, mesmerized by Harry’s eyes, “Yes. I want your cum to leak out of my pussy.”

Harry chuckles at her answer, “That wasn’t really an answer to my question but it does confirm my suspicions that you’re really gagging for my cock, huh, sunflower?”

“Yes, yes I want it please.” Sophia cries shamelessly, willing her body to move to be able to face Harry’s body fully and just take a hold of his cock and ram it inside her hungry hole already.

“Na-uh.” Harry says, gently pushing her head back on the cushions of the couch as he removes his hold around her hair, “I want you on your belly when I first fuck my cock in you, sunflower. Need to see how good you take me later when I fuck you from behind.”

“Oh fuck!” Sophia moans with her mouth wide-open as Harry surprised her by guiding the engorged head of his cock to rub on her pussy lips like earlier.

“Yeah?” Harry chuckled darkly at her shameless reaction, “I haven’t even done anything yet and you're already sounding so needy.”

Sophia doesn’t attempt to even stifle her ear-piercing moans when she feels and hears Harry spit on her pussy from behind, mercilessly rubbing his own trickling cock on the raw folds of her sensitive cunt.

“Please, please. Bunny, please!” Sophia is reduced into pathetic pleads not even a full minute of Harry teasing her already fluttering hole, starving for his cock.

“What, sunflower? What do you need from me?”

“Your cock! Need you to stuff me full, bunny! Need your big cock to fill my fucking hole and just take me, please!”

Sophia shivers when she hears Harry’s loud moan from behind her laid-out form, gasps in surprise and delight at the way Harry’s heavy hands began to knead and grasp her arse cheeks, the deep pleasure of feeling Harry’s firm and quick slaps at the plumpness of her behind makes Sophia cry in euphoria.

“Fuck.” Harry curses intensely, “You have one filthy mouth, sunflower. Fuck. I can’t take it anymore, I need to fill you already, baby.”

Sophia might have just died at that moment. Too blissed out in need for Harry that hearing him say that’s he’s fucking going to put it inside her already, has Sophia seeing the gates of heaven in her closed-pleased eyes.

Though Sophia’s not that angelic to miss being properly fucked bare for the first time so she just calls out for Harry in desperate need, “Bunny, need you near me please. Go on my back, baby. I need to touch you, need you near me, pleasepleasepl-”

“Okay, okay, sunflower, I’m here.” Harry complies quickly at Sophia’s wretched cries, his entire body fitting above Sophia’s back confirming the latter’s assumption that their bodies are really made to fit perfectly when snuggled together as she savors their warm contact, limbs and souls now entangled in a lovely mess.

Except this isn’t anything like the innocent cuddling the pair have always done since they were seven. Right now, it’s Harry’s naked torso pressed tightly on Sophia’s naked back pinning her on the couch with his whole body, his muscular tattooed arms coming up to weigh down on Sophia’s own that’s outstretched above her head. Hands finding each other to grasp tightly, fingers filling the gap of any miniscule space that doesn’t connect Sophia and Harry together.

Harry’s weight above her is a welcome touch, Sophia sighing in contentment at how secure she feels having Harry’s skin glued to hers in the most intimate way possible. If she wasn’t quite so greedy, Sophia would think this was already enough to satisfy her needs.

But ever since she’s decided that she’d gladly be in Santa’s naughty list this year just to give Harry’s present of seeing his own cum dripping out of her sated pussy, Sophia takes no shame in wiggling her ass where Harry’s cock has found solace at its crease, indicating her need to still be filled by him.

“Baby, please?” Sophia noses at Harry’s cheek from where his head is resting on the side of her own, eagerly rubbing her face on any surface of Harry’s stubbled cheek and jaw that she can reach.

It doesn’t take anymore pleading for Harry before he’s whispering, “Alright, sunflower. I’m going to give it to you now. I love you, my baby.” and because he’s the real angel between the two of them (though a devil in the sheets without a doubt, don’t you let him fool anyone), Harry reverently maps kisses on Sophia’s cheeks before reaching her temple and leaving that last sweet one she’s always loved and dearly cherished.

And then Sophia feels him moving from behind, body never leaving hers as he takes care of connecting them fully. It doesn’t even give Sophia a moment to take a deep breath in when she feels Harry scooping some of her steady coming wetness to coat his cock, and then its sizable head is finally breaching her pussy lips.

“Oh my god,” Sophia exhales in a breathy satisfaction as Harry slowly pushes his entire length inside her, the grunts leaving his lips not missed from how close Harry’s face is resting on the side of hers.

So pinned close to her space that Sophia can see from the corner of her eye how Harry’s expressive handsome face has formed into that one of immense satisfaction when his entire length has sheathed her core, bottomed out snugly. The same rational-numbing pleasure shoots up in Sophia’s system feeling how deep Harry is inside her.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight. So warm, sunflower.” Harry rasps in a tone of pained ecstasy, hips slowly rabbiting his cock in and out of Sophia in deep driven fashion.

Sophia moans at the heady sensation of feeling Harry envelop her everywhere, his cock ramming in her pussy is accompanied by Harry’s lips littering the skin of her nape, the side of her neck, face, and every single inch of her heated skin that his kiss-bruised lips can reach with adoring kisses and hungered bites.

Unlike their earlier tryst of filthy passion with Harry messily going down on her, Sophia doesn’t need to offer any provocative words to get Harry in that headspace of unbridled desire.

It’s the resounding silence of their intimate moment, with Sophia’s breathy moans and unrelenting litany of pleased whimpers that drives Harry to plaster himself tighter on Sophia’s back, hips moving faster and faster for his cock to reach every single crevice in Sophia’s cunt.

It’s Sophia breathing ‘I love yous’ on his sweat-slicked skin that got Harry to pound harder and deeper into her pussy, their bodies dancing in the same pattern as the couch rocks together with their visceral movements.

It’s the way Harry takes the time to reply, ‘I love you always, can’t believe I can have you like this.’ for every single time Sophia cries words of adoration on his skin that’s got Sophia meeting each and every thrust Harry gives her. The sound of skin slapping on skin and the growing scent of pure arousal around the room, clouds over all the senses of the pair.

That’s why it’s no surprise that when Sophia finds her lips capturing Harry’s little ear to suck hotly, whispering the words, ‘I love you forever, baby. You have me as long as you want me,’ while Harry continues his unceasing hard, ardent thrusts, it makes him release the most refined noise of fulfillment.

Who would have thought that those genuine words of love is what ignites the spirit of a literal sex god embody Harry, cock furiously pounding into Sophia’s soaked cunt, his hand finding place on her hips to help her bounce back more eagerly than by her tired self.

“Oh my god,” Sophia mewls, body feeling passion-possessed as it rabbitted back to Harry’s every forceful thrusts, his lips that never left any surface of her skin sucking bites the more his momentum of fucking her pussy quickened. “oh my god, bunny.”

“Fuck!” Harry curses, most probably feeling Sophia’s insanely pulsating cunt clamping tight on his prick, indication that she’s nearing her release.

What takes Sophia hurling into the cliff of her orgasm is the moment Harry sneakily slid his hand under Sophia’s body. Catching her in total surprise when Harry suddenly pinches her clit so hard Sophia might actually have blacked-out for a second from the ultimate concoction of pain and pleasure that it brought her.

Sophia’s release bursts out of her, body trembling from head to toe. She can feel the thick, warm wetness gushing out, can hear how it affects Harry not only from the slick sounds it produces of their skin slapping together with Harry’s continuous pumping of his cock in and out of her, but also in the way Harry whimpers sharply in exhilaration straight to her ear that he’s nibbling.

Sex with Harry, is a spiritual experience, Sophia thinks with her eyes closed as she basks in the moment Harry’s pounding stopped into that glorious last deep thrust, his thick length twitching before warm cum begins to spill out deep spurts inside of Sophia’s womb.

Sophia has always thought that once she attains a relationship with Harry that goes beyond the platonic realms of their friendship, she couldn’t possibly want anything more.

She’s finding herself wrong once again.

Sex with Harry has opened Sophia’s eyes to new rooms of possibilities. Wanting more can’t even describe the fathomless extent of what she wants, needs sex with Harry to be.

Though unlike her pining dilemmas, this one might not even be a point of problem when Harry’s effortlessly flipping her sated body to rest on her back, mischievous eyes giving her a wink before his diving down once again, tongue out and feeding their combined releases back inside Sophia’s spent pussy as it started to trickle down her parted thighs.

“Merry Christmas, my baby sunflower.” Harry cheekily whispers to her cunt more than Sophia herself, his eager to please mouth clamps down to lap and prod at Sophia’s leaking, gaped pussy.

Sophia can’t be blamed when her return greeting of ‘Merry Christmas, bunny’ was less of heartfelt words and more of a screech of sexed-out exuberance.

Harry is definitely not complaining from the looks of it as he gets Sophia to squirt directly on his face less than three minutes after that. Extremely messy face grinning smugly like a madman saying,

“Merry Christmas, you filthy animal.”

After Sophia and Harry have gotten cleaned up and all that jazz after their Christmas rendezvous, Sophia feels slightly grumpy for being ordered by Harry to sit back on the now clean couch in just a pair of fresh knickers (unripped, thank you very much Harry) and one of their heavy wool blankets to protect her bare skin from the cold.

You see, Sophia understands the appeal of feeling comfortable and free in your own skin without any clothes. She even has subscribed to the notion that she’d effortlessly shed the majority of her clothes when she’s in the confines of her or Harry’s home because now the both of them can enjoy that intimate time together with literally no barriers between them.

All that, Sophia will allow. What she doesn’t understand is the fact that Harry sees the steady fall of snow in every window of the bungalow and yet he insists to get Sophia with nothing but her new festive red cheeky panties, bundled only with a woolen blanket like it’s not bloody winter and the temperature isn’t constantly dropping low to a freezing cold.

“Bunny, I’m literally going to freeze my fucking nips off because of you.” Sophia huffs out in annoyance, Harry’s fresh pair of Christmas baubles-printed boxers the only thing she can see from the man in question as he’s bum is literally the only thing on display with his bended form finding something under the Christmas tree.

“Stop being dramatic,” Harry replies, attention still not on Sophia’s pouting face, “I swear just a few minutes more. I’m just looking for the specific present I need you to open.”

“You need me to open a pressie with just my knickers on?” Sophia asks in a tone of disbelief.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m really going to swat your festive clad bum if you still don’t find that fucking thing your looking for in the next ten seconds.”

It’s clearly a joke, but Sophia finds delight in seeing Harry sprang into action making his search quicker than necessary. He’s for sure tired from all their fucking spree just moments ago, but Sophia thinks Harry kind of deserves some teasing after not only making Sophia come down the stairs with nothing but her panties, but also for the fact that he gatekeeped her from having their Christmas breakfast. Don’t you dare think for even a second that Sophia forgot the special sweet treats they prepared last night, dick-drunk or not.

Since Harry wanted to do presents first before having their delicious feast of edible food this time, Sophia asks Harry to also fetch her gift for him under the tree before he excitedly plops his own self beside her on the couch. Sophia’s pout ceases when Harry instantly raises his arm in clear invitation to burrow on his side.

Sophia and Harry have never been one for material gifts after realizing that the best gift they can ever give each other is to just simply spend time together. It was a hard pill to swallow on both ends when they realized their passions in life also meant spending less and less time together as a unit. That’s why it had always been an imperative of a pressie to cuddle each other on whatever soft surface their accommodations offer them in whatever country they were currently in.

But their deep care and love for each other couldn’t just lose the idea of spoiling one another with simple gifts that go beyond being together during the holiday season. Sophia in particular is actually quite keen to see Harry’s reaction when he opens the large emerald green, glittery paper bag that contains his gift this year.

They exchange parcels after reluctantly letting go of each other’s warm orbit in order to have space to open their gifts. Harry clapped his hands with excited sparkling eyes as he carefully put a hold on Sophia’s gift for him that’s now resting on his lap.

“You go first, sunflower.” Harry smiles at her. His words are the total opposite of what a younger Harry would have said to a less eager kid Sophia when it’s opening presents time. Even at a young age, Sophia was more drawn to the Christmas food waiting at her parent’s kitchen while Harry was the quintessential gift-excited kid awake at the crack of dawn, jumping at his parents bed to cause the usual Christmas morning mayhem.

Sophia would have agreed easily to Harry’s request, except for the fact that she really wants to see and savor Harry’s reaction when he opens his gift before her mind gets sidetracked to whatever amazing goodie Harry had given her this year. Knowing the man pretty well, he’s never one to pick ‘go small’ over ‘go big’ when it comes to anything holiday related, or anything to dote and spoil Sophia with really.

If she just wasn’t feeling the cold break into the warm barrier of her soft blanket, Sophia would have indulged with a back and forth of ‘No bunny, you go first. Nope, you go first sunflower. Na-uh bunny, you first. Sunflower, you’re the one who’s supposed to open your pressie first’ type of annoying banter that’s essentially flirting once Sophia has acknowledged that she has been openly flirting with Harry every time none of them wanted to drop the call first during her pathetic longing days.

Sophia chooses to compromise after all, saying, “Bunny, let’s just open our gifts at the same time before we actually catch hypothermia because of your dorky and borderline highly dangerous antics that I really don’t fucking know how you get me to do.”

Harry laughs, the jovial sound pushing warmth in Sophia’s chilly skin making her shiver at how disgustingly cheesy the boy has influenced her to feel.

“Ever the smart one, my sunflower. Just not one when I unleash my puppy eyes and my irresistible pout.” Harry winks, Sophia only rolling her eyes because the boy’s not lying and she has no strength to put up a fight and deny it fruitlessly.

The two of them do a countdown from three to zero, matching gleeful eyes locking together before reaching the end of the countdown and dropping their focus on each other’s laps.

If it was even possible, Christmas just got a lot crazier than matching confession of love, and mindblowing morning sex.

Sophia and Harry look at each other with the same dumbstruck expression carved on their faces, each other’s gifts now unwrapped and within their hold.

“For fucks sake.” The two of them simultaneously breath out in surprise, surprising themselves even more when they unintentionally just uttered the same words verbatim. They break into childish giggles, eyes maneuvering down to their coincidentally, matching gifts.

“I can’t believe we got the same thing for each other,” Sophia marvels, the black Gucci x Balenciaga Hacker BB puffer jacket soft on her fingertips, cold crisp skin itching to wear the absolute cloud of warmth.

Sophia doesn’t hesitate in doing so, especially when Harry already has his matching designer puffer jacket in the color beige this time, already covering his shirtless torso. Now Sophia has actually caught up with why Harry had wanted them to open their gifts first in nothing but tiny underwear covering their modesty.

“I can’t believe you’re the one who got the last beige one!” Harry suddenly exclaimed, index finger pointing in accusation at a gasping Sophia who’s now bundled in the warm and soft fluff of her new puffer jacket, the lower half of her face contently being shielded from Harry’s harsh words.

“Excuse you?!”

“Yeah, it was you!” Harry affirms, offending finger that’s back with its signature ring still directed at Sophia. “I was supposed to get the beige one for myself while I gifted you the black one. But Lambert said someone already got the last beige one. And that’s apparently you, you sneaky little thing.” Harry snides, head shaking in distrust as he folds his arms across his puffed chest.

Sophia narrows her eyes at Harry, “Well I was supposed to get the black one for myself, and then Lamby said the last piece was already reserved for someone else. And that’s you, you sly bugger.”

Harry dramatically gasps, both ringed hands coming to rest on his chest, “How very dare you call me that this Christmas morning? Your audacity to call my stylist to do your gift shopping is extremely audacious!”

Sophia rolls her eyes, “Lamby is your stylist, made total sense because he knew your size.”

“And you don’t?”

“Of course I do!” Sophia actually gets hit by that one since she has been buying Harry gifts that fit him perfectly even during the years that his sudden growth spurts make his sizing complicated. She doesn’t need any help from anyone to properly dress her bunny, thank you very much.

“Then why didn’t you just buy the jacket on the rack itself?” Harry questions with a raised brow.

Sophia doesn’t back down on the challenge. “Because Lambert has direct contact with Gucci already. Why didn’t you just buy it in the store too?”

“Because contrary to you, Lambert is actually my stylist. He works for me.”

“And that includes doing your Christmas shopping for you?” Sophia scoffs, smirking, “Be thankful that Lamby’s too kind to scold your lazy arse when it comes to pressie shopping.”

“Am not lazy!” Harry defends, pouting, “Lambert likes buying me clothes so he did it out of his freewill and enjoyment.”

“Well Lamby enjoys dressing me up too so I don’t see the problem of asking him to get me a special gift.”

“But he’s not your stylist!”

“Doesn’t matter!”

“Does too!”

“The fucking head of Gucci love me more than you so I get more rights of buying the puffer jackets than you, hah!”

Silence resurfaces after Sophia heatedly spilled those words. The latter, a mixture of embarrassed - for her childish outburst - and amused - for Harry’s jaw dropped on the floor in a flabbergasted nature.

And then Harry’s giggling, escalating quickly to his honking laughter as Sophia amazedly watches him contort his body in this direction to that in complete paralyzing laughter.

“Fucking hell!” Harry lets out, hands thumbing away the little tears of laughter that fell from his cheery eyes. “Sunflower, I have to give you that one,” he surrenders with his palms raised, “I can’t argue with your statement with how much I’m reminded everyday that Lallo loves you more than me every time you wear that necklace on your neck.”

The wistful sigh of disappointment Harry breathes out, triggers Sophia in her own spiraling laughter.

It’s true, is the thing. Alessandro Michelle’s utter adoration for Harry was quickly transferred to Sophia after they had first met in Italy when Harry brought her along with him for the Gucci Cruise collection that year. Lallo and Sophia had clicked instantly, the two abandoning a pouting Harry on that trip to spend some quality time alone to get a better grasp of each other as Alessandro toured Sophia around the local towns in Rome.

Their close friendship was further solidified when Alessandro had surprised Sophia with her own initials in a jewelry piece that he usually gifts to his loved ones. Unlike every other person who gets them in a set of two rings, Sophia got her chunky gold initials in the form of a necklace.

Sophia thinks it’s rather adorable how Harry had acted wounded like a neglected kitten when Lallo had first clasped the necklace around her neck over a dinner the three of them had when their friend was visiting London. But she thinks it’s rather unfair that because of the tangible proof that Lallo loves Sophia more, Harry has made it his job to not invite Sophia to any Gucci related trips he needs to attend, even going the extra mile of prohibiting Sophia to fly to Italy without him.

It’s not like Sophia was going to replace Harry as her bestest friend in the world just because the head of Gucci got her a special necklace. She tells the same thing to a sulking Harry every time the man admits feeling slightly threatened that Sophia spending more alone time with Alessandro would make her realize how much of a better friend he is than Harry.

The idea itself was just simply preposterous, Sophia taking her time to say and show Harry it was impossible for anything like that to happen, can’t plainly fathom flying to another country just to cuddle anyone else other than Harry.

Thankfully Sophia doesn’t have to do anything strenuous to do the same thing right now.

“You know that I love you more, right?” Sophia smiles, making grabby hands at an unmoving, pouting Harry.

“I guess.” Harry shrugs, ignoring Sophia’s blatant needy little noises for him. “But you still love Lallo a lot, too.”

“Bunny,” Sophia giggles at Harry’s stubbornness, “I’m in-love with you, baby. Is that enough for you to come and smother me with your hugs now?”

Unlike Sophia, Harry makes it much easier for her to see whenever he gets affected by her words. His little ears are pinking right now, a clear sign of flusteredness making Sophia giggle harder under the confines of her fluffy puffer jacket.

Harry is launching himself on Sophia not even a minute later. The abrupt movement and their matching puffer jackets colliding together, causes Sophia to fall on her back to lie down on the cushions of the couch. The pair’s laughter echoed around the room as Harry made himself at home atop Sophia’s body, tangling their limbs together as Harry sneaked his nose inside the neck of Sophia’s warm cocoon to nuzzle his cold nose on the soft skin of her neck.

Sophia hisses at the chilly contact, smiling like an idiot when Harry warms her up again by leaving a searing kiss on her neck, no doubt littered with lovebites from their earlier bouts of pleasure.

“I love it when you call me baby.” Harry confesses quietly on Sophia’s skin, the latter’s hands finding its way to card through Harry’s messy curls in a soothing pattern.

“Hm.” Sophia hums, “So does that mean you don’t want me to call you bunny anymore?”

Harry’s answer of a ‘no’ is displaced by the unexpected movement of Harry’s lower half accidentally nudging against Sophia’s still barely covered modesty of her little knickers that can’t be covered by Harry’s pressie for her. The now familiar sensation makes Sophia moan and Harry to still.

“I don’t think it’s fitting to stop calling you bunny when it seems like you want to fuck like bunnies.” and Sophia makes it a point by raising her lower half to grind on Harry’s half-chubbed length.

“Sunflower!” Harry admonishes the laughing minx, “Stop teasing or I might actually get hard enough to just slip it in again.” he’s wiggling his eyebrows, no real attempts of taking their teasing any further.

Sophia’s lips curl upwards at Harry’s usual display of ridiculousness. It’s comforting to know that despite having discovered the passion-potent and extremely crass route that their intimate moments together can lead to, their ridiculous banter and cheeky comments aimed at each other is not lost whilst keeping close and snuggled in each other’s secure auras.

Wrapping one long curly lock on her pointer finger, Sophia says, “Not allowed to enter me until you tell me you’re in-love with me too.”

It sounds more like a demand than anything else, but Harry is giving Sophia this soft hued look that makes it seem as if he had just melted into a puddle of love goo just from Sophia’s words. It’s kind of an unnerving sight to see, Sophia having always thought that only Harry had that ability to render her entire being into pure mush, just from the simple touches and actions that Harry never thought meant a lot more to Sophia than nonsensical sweet nothings.

Harry’s lips are on Sophia’s not a moment later, her bunny kissing her like it was the only appropriate thing to do.

Their lips disconnect just enough for Harry to mouth the words on her spit-slicked lips.

“I love you too, sunflower. I’m in-love with you, my baby.”

Sophia is not capable of holding back her lips from latching onto Harry’s once again, the two easily meeting in another round of sweet sucks and gentle presses of plump lips.

“I love you too, bunny. So much.” Sophia exhales, Harry’s lips trailing kisses from the side of her mouth, to the entire expanse of her left cheek, until he reaches her temple where he lands that treasured peck.

Like second nature, Sophia tilts her head upwards to nose along Harry’s own, the cold tip of her button nose circling affectionately at Harry’s similar chilly pink ones.

“I love you,” Harry whispers again, “but that doesn’t mean I’d let you get away with out-gifting me that easily.”

Without a doubt, Sophia did not have a clue of what Harry said to her before he cheekily grabbed her bare bum to instruct her to get up and head to the kitchen.

Accidentally (it was fate) buying each other the same Christmas gifts, noting that they’re also rather expensive, doesn’t really equal the concept of anyone out-gifting anyone. It’s plainly a stupid idea without even needing to think about it.

Sophia wasn’t sure what she was expecting when Harry had held her cold hand and placed it inside the front pouch of his beige puffer jacket while they walked the short distance to the kitchen.

It definitely wasn’t the Christmas feast perfectly arranged on the kitchen counter that has the potential of rivaling the holiday feast at Hogwarts.

Well, maybe Sophia was exaggerating. The assortment of festive-printed and bright colored tins and boxes that came from Trader Joe’s, isn’t exactly anywhere near fancy nor magical than the self-replenishing food at the Great Hall of the wizarding school.

But it’s the meaning behind the food that ultimately matters.

“You remembered also?” Sophia turns to Harry, holding hands clutching tightly as her gaze and voice pierces him with unadulterated wonder.

“That you wanted to have some taste of American Christmas and how you’ve always wanted to do a holiday shopping spree at Trader Joe’s?” Harry asks, smiling adoringly at an awestruck Sophia who’s got her head tilted up like Harry had just hung the moon and the stars right in front of her eyes.

“Yeah, I did.” Harry answered his own question, admission more bashful than confident unlike his ordinary expression.

The red flush on Harry’s little ears poking out of his dark curls makes Sophia coo.

“Bunny, you’re so sweet.” Sophia titters, highly endeared and feeling nothing but happy swirls in her tummy at Harry’s adorable shyness for being the best person in the world. “I love you a lot.”

Sophia raises to her tiptoes, asking for a kiss which Harry gladly returns in a heartbeat. Soft, closed lips pressing into one another in blissful contact.

Sophia thumbs at Harry’s dimple softly, “Mind giving me a tour of your holiday selections, baby?”

Harry joyfully pulls her to the kitchen counter, hands dropping to her hips as he helps Sophia to sit up on the marbled counter itself. Harry lets Sophia get her excited hands on the various Christmas treats from America.

He tells her the story of how he had convinced Jeff to raid the holiday goodies at Trader Joe’s in LA right as the store had opened to prevent from getting stopped by fans. Sophia laughs learning that it was the morning after the end of the tour party, Harry heating-up the mince pies they bought yesterday in the oven while sharing to Sophia that Jeff almost puked in the middle of the holiday aisle in the grocery from being so hungover.

“And you weren’t in the same state?” Sophia asks, opening the tin of Trader Joe’s Jingle Jangle, eyes instantly caught by the chocolate-covered popcorn, popping it straight to her mouth as a pleased sound leaves her lips.

“Of course not,” Harry answers, bringing to the counter their plate of warm mince pies. “I left the party earlier so we can have our own FaceTime party, remember?”

Instead of replying, Sophia picks-up another of the chocolate-covered popcorn, motioning for Harry to open his mouth as she feeds it to him.

“Oh, that’s good.” Harry hums in the same pleased tone as Sophia’s. “Dark chocolate?”

“I think so.” Sophia says, stuffing her mouth this time with a mini pretzel also coated with chocolate, dainty fingers feeding Harry’s waiting mouth as well. “And how could I forget our sleeping FaceTime party. No wonder you were feeling fine as a peach the next morning.”

“Heyyy..” Harry whines, dimples still indented on his cheeks while he fits himself on Sophia’s parted thighs, “I said I was sorry for falling asleep in the middle of our call. I sang Kiwi two times that night.”

“And you sang it three times on your first tour and you still had the energy to dance with me on the dance floor at that after party while Toxic by Britney Spears played.”

Harry smiles at her fondly, thumb coming up to wipe-off the chocolate crumbs on the side of her lips, “We owned that dance floor, how could I forget?”

Sophia also doesn’t know how, and she makes sure that it doesn’t happen again as they reminisce and trade their favorite tour stories while opening the other boxes and tins to taste test the other holiday goodies. Harry’s mouth, perpetually open for Sophia to feed a candy cane chocolate-covered almond, or a piece of the peppermint bark. Harry on the other hand, contently gives the two of them breaks from the sweet treats to feed himself and Sophia with pieces of their savory mince pie and the carrot slices Sophia cut for them last night, she knew it would come in handy.

Harry had just finished showing Sophia some of the selfies he took with baby Rowland during his freshly completed tour when Sophia gave him a pleading look all of a sudden.

Harry chuckles, recognizing those wide-set eyes without any context needed, “What do you want, sunflower?”

Sophia curls her lips in a cute smile, “May you please make us hot chocolate using these magnificent babies?” She holds up the box of Trader Joe’s Hot Cocoa Ornaments. “These glittery baubles are calling for my name.”

Harry chuckles, large hand on her thighs squeezing lovingly, “And what are you going to do while I slave-away and make us some hot cuppas of glittery cocoa?”

“I don’t know?” Sophia shrugs her shoulders playfully, “Open the tins of our half-finished Quality Street and Celebrations while I guard our Christmas sugar cookies from last night?”

Harry’s merry laughter is squished in Sophia’s smiling lips as he kisses her soundly, green dreamy-tinted eyes leaving Sophia a soft look before turning his back on her and begins fetching some Christmas themed mugs on top of the cupboards.

Sophia sighs in pure happiness, legs swinging back and forth as she quietly watches Harry move around the kitchen; a sight she's seen a million times already but has never failed to make her heart flutter and butterflies roam freely inside her entire being.

Domestic Harry Styles is in a whole completely different category than everything good in life.

Sophia’s in-love with her best friend.

How can she not feel like she’s swimming in a pool of affection as Harry happily stirs their cups of hot chocolate like it’s the most fulfilling thing to do, words dripping with care as he softly tells Sophia to be careful of the steaming drink. The clear admiration in his eyes when he watched Sophia take the first sip as if he’d rather drink in her happy little slits of blue eyes, hands reaching to feed Sophia one of their Christmas cookies, the action filled with true devotion at how simply sacred it felt for Harry to attend to her in such a simple, regular way.

Sophia never imagined that hugging, warmed bodies completely flushed together in the kitchen while slowly swaying to a non-existent music, can actually be a reality to some few, to her. It’s so cheesy and cliché like something a sappy Harry will write about in his songs.

Except right now, clutched tightly in each other’s blissfully warm energies, slow dancing in their pants and matching puffer jackets with no real thought behind it, eyes trained on the clear sliding doors of the bungalow as they watched the flecks of snow falling slowly outside their own imperfectly beautiful Winter Wonderland, Harry’s not singing sweet words about being domestic and twirling Sophia this way and that as he kept an arm around her floating form while they glided across the heated kitchen floors.

Harry Styles is peacefully humming Mistletoe directly on Sophia’s ear, singing the following words like a litany of whispered prayer, worshiping her.

“Kiss me underneath the mistletoe,

Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh, oh, oh, oh.”

Sophia doesn’t need a mistletoe to show her bunny that she loves him, worships him just the same with no sugary sweet words or dulcet tones of Christmas tunes serenading him back.

She proves it to him by standing on her tiptoes to kiss his temple like how Harry had first shown his love for her. Will always show his love for his person.

"Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." - Chapter Two

The Second Serving of Cranberry Sausage Rolls 🎄

- Story Masterpost for the other chapters

“Oh my god, I think I’m in paradise.”

Sophia moans out together with Harry, their eyelids that have shut during their first bite, savoring the initial burst of flavor of the cranberry sausage rolls, open in an instant, locking at each other’s gaze of surprise at their exact same utterance of food pleasure.

“I knew you were my best friend for a reason!” Harry joyfully calls out, finishing his first roll in just two bites, and to be honest, Sophia isn’t far behind.

“I can’t argue with you on that note,” Sophia gladly reaches out on the box of cranberry sausage rolls in front of the two of them for her second one, “Thank the lord they’ve added tables and chairs to sit on around here. I don’t think I’m quite young to be going around the Christmas market without any time to rest my tired legs.”

“I’m the one with the bad back,” Harry shares around his second roll, third ready and waiting on his right hand, “and I’m not even complaining.”

“That’s because you’re already stuffing your face with pure goodness.” Sophia protests, shaking her hands together to remove any crumbs from the puff pastry of the sausage roll, “If we had waited just a few more minutes without already getting our favorite Christmas snack, you’d for sure be a right grump already.”

“Not true.”

“So is- hey!” Sophia does not hesitate to slap away Harry’s sneaky hand trying to get her third roll. The box only had six cranberry sausage rolls and they promised to share one box so they only got three each. “Don’t be greedy, bunny. The last one’s mine cause you already ate the last of your share.”

Harry narrows his eyes at Sophia, brows pulled together in contemplation as his right hand remained atop the last cranberry sausage roll on the sadly too empty box. Sophia arches her own brow at him, a look of challenge not missed on her features as her own dainty hand remained wrapped around Harry’s wrist trying to stop his earlier actions of deception.

“Fine.” Harry relents, bottom lip sticking out on a pout, “Why do you always get the last piece, anyway? Seems unfair to me.”

Sophia just giggles at Harry’s ridiculous act of petulance as she happily takes a bite of her cranberry sausage roll that she is the rightful owner of.

“Since when have I always been the person who gets the last piece of heaven?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugs his shoulder from where he’s sitting in front of Sophia on the table, arms folded across his chest with his pout still going strong like the absolute picture of stubbornness, “like all the time our families have been here every Christmas? Better yet, the first time we ever met and you already got the last piece they sold that day. I don’t know about you, but that last point of mine already speaks volumes about your character.”

After Harry mentions that, Sophia can’t help but feel a surge of utter fondness take over her system every time someone mentions the day Harry and her had first met ever in their lives.

To reiterate an earlier thought, Sophia and Harry actually met in the same Cheshire Christmas Market that they’re visiting now, only back when they were young children whose only problem was to get the last order of the cranberry sausage rolls. That might still be a problem for present day Harry and Sophia, but the latter won’t cry because of it anymore.

Sophia can’t really remember anything clear that she might have done that day except for the moment she had first met Harry.

She remembers it was also Christmas Eve when her and her parents went to the Christmas market, but what she did specifically before asking permission and some cash from her parents to buy these heavenly rolls, has been lost from her memory.

It’s not the first time Sophia had ever been in the market, so after a few more of her impatient mumbling at her parents telling them to wrap-up their shopping for them to finally buy her sausage rolls she’s been whining for, Sophia’s parents allowed her to go to the stall herself. Since it was only two stalls across from where her parents were getting their items wrapped, Sophia and her parents all felt comfortable allowing her some little independence that she didn’t have much at that age.

Sophia remembers happily skipping her way to the stall, her parents calling out to tell her to be careful because it was lightly snowing and she might slip on the floor from all her excited energy.

She didn’t fall for the record, and had safely arrived at the sausage rolls kiosk with her cold gloved hands pressing close in awe at the glass display, containing the freshly baked treats.

Though she can’t say the same thing from the kid that seemed to run at full speed to the kiosk. Sophia still feels that woosh in the nippy air from how fast this kid had run, so fast that he almost slipped before finding his balance through also placing his hands on the glass case where Sophia’s hands were still smoothed over, feeling the heat of the freshly baked sausage rolls permeating the wool of her small gloved hands.

The kid that almost slipped turned out to be Harry.

But at that time, all Sophia knew about him was that he was the kid wearing a similar puffer jacket like her, only in a baby blue color while hers was in a soft dusty pink tone. Harry was pretty covered up from the cold winter weather like her, so Sophia remembers landing her eyes on his cherubic face.

Harry’s cheeks were rounded, flushed a light red due to the cold, little specks of snow had fallen on the tips of his nose, big green eyes filled with her same twinkling spark of elation as they stayed trained on the sausage rolls in front of them.

Sophia was so captivated by this young boy, interest had now fallen on the curls poking out his knitted cream beanie that she misses her turn to order, only breaking from her immersed state after the lady had replied to her that there were no cranberry sausage rolls left and the child beside her had already gotten the last box.

All the shimmering Christmas lights around her only intensified the sudden red that Sophia saw upon hearing those god-awful words.

Eyes narrowing at the vibrating excited nerves of a little bundled-up boy beside her, Sophia had seethed on his side profile, “But I was here first.”

The young boy had probably felt that the words were directed at him, a smiling gaze turning towards Sophia only to be replaced by an arch of the brow, “Na-uh, I was here first.”

The sass of his tone made Sophia frown, small arms crossing above her puffed jacket, “No, liar! I was here first! I saw you almost slipping before going here, so obviously I was already here first.”

The young boy’s expression turned to that of complete shock like she had just insulted him, “I’m not a liar! Only naughty boys are liars and my mummy said I’m not one! You’re the liar because I didn’t slip! I’ve been working on my balance with my sister because mummy said I can be quite clumsy!”

Sophia remembers feeling confused on what in the world was the kid talking about? A similar feeling she would often feel later on in the following years of her life. But his tone of accusation was what little Sophia had zeroed on, the harsh tone had only made her frown deepen, and don’t think she didn’t hear him calling her a liar.

“I’m not the liar here!” Sophia had defended in the same hard tone she had been using that any seven-year olds can be proud of themselves to have gained, “You could even ask the kind lady here and she’d say I was here first.”

The unwavering confidence in Sophia’s tone caught up on the young boy as the look on his face definitely suggested he knew Sophia was in the right there, that she’s the one being truthful in that moment.

But like many times after that fateful day, Sophia would learn how absolutely stubborn the young boy was.

“Well, maybe you were here first but I didn’t hear you order. So that means I still get the last cranberry sausage rolls, and that you’re still the liar!”

That had actually made sense to the young Sophia, her pout emerged just as her brows pulled even deeper together while she thought of something to say to the annoying boy who kept calling her a liar. It’s not good to be called a liar at that age, that’s basically one of the biggest sins one can commit at that age so there was no way Sophia was just going to let this boy tell lies about her character.

Sophia was a total angel at seven-years old. Complete with the blonde locks and melodious, high pitched voice.

But before Sophia could even reply back, the young boy had begun to remove his own frown and turned it into that of a mischievous smile before saying the most hurtful words that he could ever say to Sophia even years later now that they’re best friends for life.

“I really can’t be the liar here because my mummy said naughty boys don’t get gifts from Santa, so I’ve been a good boy because I want my pressies from Father Christmas.” and in the most way anyone can ever look, this kid arched his brow at Sophia condescendingly, “But I’m not sure if I can say the same thing about you because you’ve been lying and naughty liars don’t deserve cranberry sausage rolls, or gifts from Santa. So your cheeky attitude, as my sister likes to call it, doesn't deserve any baked goods, and your naughty behavior won’t get you any gifts from Father Christmas either. How sad?”

Sophia will tell you how.

It’s one thing to be denied access to cranberry sausage rolls, and a complete other horrendous thing to be told that she won’t be getting any gifts from Father Christmas! Seven-year old Sophia had basically been told that she’d committed the biggest sin in her Christmas bible and now she has to pay the consequences for something vile that she didn’t even do!

It’s not a shocker to anyone when big, fat tears begin to fall from Sophia’s eyes, and Harry should be downright alarmed for what he had caused.

The sinister part of Sophia today, does an evil laugh at remembering Harry’s panic-stricken expression once young Sophia had let the dams out as she sobbed her little, seven-year old crushed heart from the extremely mean things that young foolish Harry had said to her.

What always makes Sophia stop in her tracks when reminiscing this story, is when she remembers how her crying had ceased the instant young Harry had pulled her to his chest in a hug, just seconds later that he had caused the offending drops to begin with. She can still feel even years later, the abrupt shot of comfort that hug gave her, always gives her whenever they embrace today. The closest thing Sophia can describe the emotion is that her entire soul feels like it’s being blanketed by the finest knitted blanket, made out of the softest yarn that leaves tender touches on her skin like gentle fingertips tapping warmth on every inch of her cold surface.

It’s everything that her child wondered mind had the ability to focus on.

Sophia and Harry’s parents came to them not a few minutes later, she remembers hearing their concerned calls only to be brought closer on the young boy’s hold, her own arms circling back on his body when it still allowed her to do so easily as at that time, Harry was not yet the giant that he is today.

Everything seemed too much for little Sophia, not really registering anything except the young boy’s whispered apologies on her cold ears, her own body hiccupping from her earlier crying fit. She can’t even pin-point how they’re parents got them to disentangle from their hug, or how the boy had recapped what had happened to their parents on why Sophia had been upset.

The next thing Sophia can clearly distinguish was when the young boy introduced himself to her.

“I’m Harry.” his earlier mischievous glint had been replaced by an ethereal smile, glove covered hand extending to Sophia as if he hadn’t just been a complete little devil to her earlier.

The quick change was so bizarre to little Sophia that she let out a mixture of a hiccup and a squeak which resulted in little giggles coming out of Harry’s mouth. Sophia returns his giggle when Harry waves his still extended hand at her, reminding her that she had yet to introduce herself.

Smiling now despite her apparent red and blotchy face from crying, Sophia returned Harry’s handshake as she replied, “I’m Sophia.”

And just like everything that had occurred after Harry had made her burst into tears, Harry acts as if nothing of such had even took place as he easily placed his small arm around Sophia’s shoulders making them both face the kind lady behind the sausage roll stand who had been watching their entire exchange (how embarrassing, Sophia of today now thinks) and Harry had said to the lady:

“Hi! I’m still going to get the cranberry sausage rolls, please. But I’m going to give it to Sophia here because I’ve been really mean to her and mummy says I should never be unkind to anybody and say mean things even if that means I can’t have my share of cranberry sausage rolls.”

In Sophia’s opinion, that had been the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her at the darling age of seven. She can’t say it’s the sweetest thing Harry had ever told her like ever, she does particularly think that having ‘cranberry sausage rolls’ in the sentence just can’t be justified as the candy sugary thing he had said to her in the entire time they’ve known each other.

Regardless, that statement had been the stepping-stone to their friendship as Anne invited them to dinner that night as a form of apology from her son’s actions.

And that had been that.

Present day Sophia and Harry fastened their eyes on each other once again after Sophia had reminisced the first time they met years ago. But since they have this weird connection where both of them at random times of the day seem to just have an excellent grasp on what the other is thinking, Harry continues Sophia’s train of thought like he was just going down memory lane right beside her.

“And after that dinner mum had done in apology for my foolish actions, I continued to be stupid and let you hold me captive for the next how many years.”

Sophia laughs, “How very dare you. If there was anyone holding anyone captive, it'd be you.”

“I don’t think so,” Harry shakes his head, growing angelic locks swaying along the movement making him run a hand through them to smooth the curls away from his eyes, “I was the angel that gave you the last box of cranberry sausage rolls.”

“Only because you had ruined my Christmas Eve that year!” Sophia defends with utmost conviction. “You’re no angel if you’ve done something out of pure guilt.”

“And that’s exactly my point!” Harry triumphs, making Sophia totally confused once again because he just agreed to her without any fight.

“What’s your point there, bunny? You literally just admitted that I’m the angel in this friendship, and you’re the devil that ruined my sweet, seven-year old’s Christmas Eve.”

“You wish!” Harry snorts, putting all their rubbish on the empty sausage roll box, “What I’m trying to say is that you just admitted that you always get the last of the cranberry sausage rolls.”

Of course that’s what he had been referring to, it’s not like Sophia had just gone for a long tangent about how they met in her head and became slightly sentimental about their friendship and how even back then, there were already signs of how much Harry would mean to her.

Of course it didn’t matter that she just realized how much that first fateful day made everything much clearer that Harry was someone special in her life, and it’s totally not the platonic type of special.

“Is it my fault though if you willingly give me the last piece all the time?” Sophia questions, her own hands running up to fix her hair in an attempt to shake her thoughts away.

That makes Harry think for a moment, Sophia giggling when he begins to do that thing with his thumb and index finger, squeezing his bottom lip when he’s in deep thought.

“I think it depends,” Harry slowly draws out, “because what if I don’t actually willingly give it, and you’re just forcing me to do it without me knowing that you are coercing me into doing it.”

Guffawing at his ridiculous statement, Sophia replies, “How can I even coerce you to do something for me without you knowing I was doing it?”

Harry casually shrugs, “I don’t know.” and then he gives her this cheesy smile that he always does when something incredibly sappy comes out of his mouth, “Maybe it’s your undeniable love that’s making me do it without me knowing I’m already giving you the last piece of heaven.”

Rolling her eyes every time Harry says something even remotely sickeningly syrupy, Sophia responds with a soft smile still etched on her face. “I think it’s more that you love me undeniably so you’ll willingly give me the last piece of heaven, no coercion needed.”

Harry’s reply after that, makes Sophia bolts out and off her seat to drag the laughing Harry to the skating rink without any time to spare for all the butterflies he had just unknowingly awoken inside her belly.

“Of course, I love my sunflower baby.”

Fuck. Sophia was actually blushing.

“Bunny, come here, please! Tie my skates for me.”

Sophia smiles innocently up at Harry while sitting on the bench waiting for him to drop to his knees and follow her request, her skates already waiting for him on the ground.

Harry chuckles, eyeing her in amusement, “And why would I do that?”

Sophia blinks her lashes extra fast for it to be anything but innocence, “Because I’m your best friend and you care about me.”

“Try again,” Harry smiles with his arms crossed on his chest, Sophia noticing his own skates already laced on his feet, the quick bugger.

Sophia shows her pearly whites and honestly replies this time, “Because the Harries need an updated footage of you tying someone’s skates like that in the Night Changes music video.”

Harry looks as if he did not expect that answer, brows pulling close on his forehead probably thinking back to what he did at that specific 1D music video. Sophia swears Harry has locked that certain part of his life away at the recess of his mind, not even able to give Sophia an answer when she had once asked if she could borrow that suit he wore for the 2015 AMAs to wear at the first nights of Love on Tour.

Harry had seriously asked her in total confusion what suit she was referring about, like what the fuck? Harry Styles who loves all his fancy suits like his own little infants, can’t remember that iconic, white floral Gucci suit that gave the Harries the first taste of what was to come on the start of his solo era? That’s bloody preposterous!

Thank heavens Harry Lambert had come and saved the day. Sophia ends up wearing the suit, minus the pants because it can’t fit her waist and Sophia’s not one for public indecency, unlike Harry with his tits out for thousands to see.

The first show of Love on Tour had Sophia preening in all the acclaim and compliments people gave her (and they remember where the suit came from, hah!) despite Harry’s protests that all praises should be thrown at him because it was his tour, thus he was the only star of the show. No matter what he kept on saying though, Sophia still felt the all-night stares of Harry on her form, dressed in his suit, every time they were in the same room. His green orbs filled with silent praises that can’t compete with any kind words that Sophia had gotten that night.

Harry’s unrelenting looks of fondness and appreciation was definitely no good for Sophia’s pining heart, but give the girl a rest is what she thought. That night in Vegas, Sophia did not give a fuck if she basked in Harry’s sweet glances and rapt attention with an air of casualness than her usual frenzied state.

“Sunflower,” Harry chuckles when it finally clicked on his grandpa-like head, “you’re so odd sometimes.”

And you're always forgetful, is the tip on Sophia’s tongue, stopping herself from teasing Harry or they will take ages before he finally accepts her request. “Whatever you want to say, bunny. My toes are waiting for some loving.”

Sophia raises her feet slightly, wiggling her toes just the same with her eyebrows in a ridiculous manner making Harry chuckle at her attempt at being hilarious.

Harry sighs before slowly crouching down on his knees, “The things I do for you, really.”

“Correction, for me and the Harries, bunny.”

Sophia just giggles as Harry begins to gently take her polka dotted sock-covered feet and places it inside her rented skates. Sophia delightfully opens the camera application from her phone, telling Harry to pose for pictures while tying her silver laces.

“I don’t think I was even posing in that video, sunflower.” Harry lightly chides when Sophia asks him for the fourth time to do cute poses for the camera.

“Well at least you were smiling there,” Sophia notes, bending over a little to fix the longer curls on Harry’s head that are falling on his eyes, head bent low attending to Sophia’s skates. “Come on, bunny. Just smile for me, please?”

Harry sighs once again, but Sophia does not deter from her conviction of getting Harry to smile for her camera when she sees the unmistakable entertained little curve on Harry’s lips.

“It is the Christmas season of giving after all,” is all Harry says before he finally indulges Sophia’s wishes and does his usual charming and adorable cutie face for her camera.

It’s times like this that Sophia thinks she can honestly survive this Christmas alone with Harry because wanting more didn’t seem to be something that pressing.

When you got Harry Styles tying your shoelaces for you with little to none convincing to accomplish, do you really still need more than that when he’s already doing boyfriend-y things whilst unknowingly?

The Harries seem to think it’s adequate enough as they quickly flooded Sophia’s IG account with messages of thanks for always giving them the ‘best holidayboyfriend!H content’ just after a few minutes of posting it. Sophia on the other hand, falls once again to her own answer: definitely not good enough as she wistfully watches Harry allow himself to get flirted on by the lady on the skate renting kiosk as he went ahead to give their boots for keeping.

If Sophia had more, she wouldn’t need to see such a saddening sight because Harry would not be leaving her side to easily get flirted on like that.

Before Sophia can even shoot daggers towards the irresponsible flirting lady who should be doing more working than eye-fucking, Harry suddenly appears by Sophia’s side, easy smile adorned on his lips.

“Ready to head inside the rink?” He asks, pointing towards the entrance of the circular rink where quite a few are already having a good time skating and swirling around.

Sophia nods her head, trying to school her previously frowning face to mimic Harry’s smile, “Lead the way.”

Harry looks at her for a moment, most probably using his sixth bestie sense that they both got before shrugging his shoulders when he didn’t see anything much odd on her features. Sophia quietly sighs in relief at that, turning one last time to the flirting lady a while ago to give her a squint of her eyes to show her displeasure at the lady’s earlier actions, before walking beside Harry while trying to match his big gigantic strides.

Upon their entrance, Sophia has regained her bright, cheery, and Christmas appropriate demeanor as she gives Harry a cheeky expression, one gloved hand (Harry had forced her to buy some despite her protests of it being a fashion disaster with her current outfit) out-stretched towards Harry in invitation.

“Come here, bunny, hold my hand.”

Harry lifts a brow at her request, dimpling confusedly before following as he laces their both gloved hands together. “What’s this one for this time? Going to film me while we held hands and as I go skating in front of you like the one in the music video as well?”

Sophia shrugs, tilting her head in a look of innocence, “Not really. I just think it’s necessary to hold your hand while we’re skating knowing how your Bambi legs operate on the daily. No matter how long they are, they’re not meant for skating, bunny.”

The clear rib on her tone is not lost from Harry’s ear, the latter breaking-off their hold dramatically. “Oh bugger off! I can fucking skate just fine.”

Sophia laughs loudly at the prominent defensive tone of his voice, “I’m just trying to be careful! No amount of your growth spurt can ever make you outgrow your clumsiness.”

“For fucks sake.” Harry shakes his head in faux annoyance as Sophia continues laughing wholeheartedly without a care of anyone around them, hands on her knees type of glee. “You go calm yourself down while I show you how much of a fab skater I am.” and then he was out skating away with a little wave left for a still giggling Sophia, her cackling laughter returning when Harry abruptly turned around to flip her the bird.

Truth be told, Harry actually isn’t shit at ice-skating. When they were still youngsters and had the time to visit their local ice rinks on the weekends, Harry was the one plastered at Sophia’s side because the latter is actually the one who’s crap at ice-skating.

Harry made sure he had some hold around Sophia the entire time, the latter once again failing to notice how even in those early stages of their friendship, the security and ease Harry’s touch had given her compared to anyone else who had helped her, was a clear indicator that he’s simply something more to her.

Though soon after, Sophia took skating lessons just for the fun of it and despite petulantly missing Harry’s attentive and securing touch on her, the lessons definitely paid off as she joins Harry’s little show-off contest right now.

“That’s unfair! You can’t use techniques from your ice-skating classes!” Harry calls out after Sophia had flawlessly nailed a simple ice-skating sequence she’d learned before and thankfully had not forgotten just to get the chance to see Harry’s ridiculous pout.

“It’s absolutely fair because I never said you learning how to play the guitar was unfair because you didn’t tell me you were going to.”

Sophia’s reply only made Harry pout deeper, “You’re only saying that cause you’re still bitter you didn’t get to spend extra time with Niall unlike me who he taught the basics of guitar playing.”

“Now don’t go rubbing it in!” Sophia gasps as she skates towards Harry’s standing figure at the edge of the rink, taking place beside him, “You know how jealous I get when it comes to sharing that blonde one.”

Harry just rolls his eyes at her, an amused quirk to his pink lips nonetheless, “Well I promise to stop if you promise to have our last five minutes here already cause I’m bloody knackered, sunflower.”

Sophia merely nods, watchful eyes already seeing the lines of tiredness painted on Harry’s flushed face from the cold weather, “Promise, bunny. As long as you also promise we head to dinner right after.” her covered hands go directly to rub her tummy, “I’m quite peckish already.” she pouts.

Harry giggles at her actions, raising a hand towards her direction, “Alright, I promise baby. Let’s seal it then.”

And like the utter children that they are, Sophia returns Harry’s handshake with the utmost look of seriousness reflected on their faces to signify the importance of sealing their promises. It was only proper that they also burst-out in rambunctious laughter because even the most miniscule of things are funny to them, before they turned around and skated for the last few minutes.

This time around, Harry didn't need Sophia to offer her hand for him to take.

Harry just didn’t let go of her hand as they glided on the frozen ice, pure joy bubbling in Sophia’s chest whenever Harry squeezed their clasped hands as if to remind her that, ‘Hey, I’m here, sunflower. I’m not going to let you fall no matter how much of a Bambi I can be. I promise I’m here.’ like all the other times he did at times when Sophia felt so unsure on her own two feet.

Harry made her feel comfortable again, there’s nothing more she can wish for.

Harry likes to be humble in all regards. Earning millions for single shows and guestings can surely be enough to overflow his naturally narcissistic tendencies. With that being said, Harry tries his best to surround himself with things or people that remind him to be grounded. All those have worked in his favor, and there’s never a time Harry had ever exemplified any arrogant action towards Sophia except when it’s done in jest.

The only situation that Harry can actually be just a smidge cocky, is when he takes his loved ones out to some amazing restaurant. He places the reservation under his name that never fails to make him let out a proud smirk whenever the receptionist of the restaurant would call-out, ‘Harry Edward Styles?’ It’s really the only time Harry likes his full name to be said allowed.

Usually, hearing his full name comes in the form of a shout. Never a good sign that one, often it’s Anne or Sophia being cross with him for his usual cheeky escapades. At least it helps in making Harry feel more grounded despite Sophia totally detesting ever feeling upset with her best friend.

Tonight was no different. Harry’s too-proud reply of ‘yes’ matched with his winning smile is exhibited in front of Sophia as tonight’s restaurant receptionist said his full name to check if it was the correct information.

Sophia let’s Harry have his moment of slight arrogance, eyes wandering around the cabin-like atmosphere of the restaurant. She tries to lower down her smile when Harry reaches behind his back, asking Sophia to hold his hands. They follow the receptionist just like that to their table, Harry in front of Sophia with her pressed closely to his back and their hands woven comfortably together.

Sophia gives her thanks to the ever gentleman Harry who pulls a chair out for her before taking his own seat in front of Sophia. She’s not going to lie, all the shopping around the Christmas market, swirls and glides on the ice rink, and the short walk they had to take to go to this restaurant, had made Sophia tired. The restaurant Harry reserved a table for, was just across the entrance of the Cheshire Christmas market, but Sophia isn’t young anymore and effects of jet-lag are not easy to remove despite a whole day of hibernation completed.

Sophia makes sure to place her phone on the surface of the table, having placed an alarm for when they should head back to the Christmas market. The tree lighting of the massive pine tree in the center of the market was due to start in about two hours, Sophia reminding that fact to Harry as they browsed the menu.

“A classic Christmas Eve chicken roast with roasted veggies of potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and beetroots, and with three servings each of Yorkshire pudding?” Harry reads aloud to Sophia, the two of them always having the same choice of Christmas Eve dinner.

“How about a basket of Yorkshire pudding?” Sophia suggests knowingly, making Harry chuckle at the truth behind her words.

“You’re not making this easier for us,” Harry notes, “we already ate a box of sausage rolls earlier.”

“And?” Sophia arches a brow in question, “We both know we’ll still end up ordering another three servings each of Yorkshire pudding once we finish our first three.”

Harry nods his head in agreement, albeit with a dry smile. “My trainer is going to kill me for this sunflower.”

Sophia snorts, “Bunny, it’s Christmas! Eat all the fucking carbs and sweets you want. Better yet, I’d send a picture of our dinner with the basket of Yorkshire pudding to your trainer to show him how much he has starved you.”

Harry laughs at that, raising his hand to call for the waiter. “You don’t even have his number.”

“Wouldn’t stop me.” Sophia confidently shares, “I’d have a word to whoever has kept my bunny away from his bread.”

Harry just shakes his head at her words, the craters on his cheek made prominent by the soft look he’s throwing her way. It gives Sophia time to breathe and not melt on her seat when the waiter that Harry called finally arrived to take their orders, gladly letting Harry take the lead on that one.

Looking around the restaurant and its other patrons, Sophia notes that tonight’s warm atmosphere is the perfect in-between of not being in a fine dining setting, but not one of a rowdy pub either. Sophia finds it to be the ultimate balance fit for her taste.

Tonight’s restaurant allows her the reprieve of not always having to check her posture while eating, nor have the ardent pressure placed on her to know what utensil to use for what specific dish, like in a lot of the places Harry had brought her to before. At the same time, Sophia feels comfortable that she can pop a few buttons of her leather trousers later when the food coma settles in, but she wouldn’t be exactly at ease to burp without a care in the world like what normally happens to her when Harry takes her to a pub and feeds her every greasy item there.

“You pick a good place tonight, bunny.” Sophia shares to Harry after their orders have been taken.

“You haven’t even tasted the food,” Harry replies, which Sophia disregards since it did not miss her attentive eyes how Harry had preened at her compliment for his good choices. The ever people pleaser this man is.

Sophia wasn’t in the mood to take the piss out of Harry after he had deflected the compliment, preferring to converse with him about the last bits of his tour that he had yet to share with her since they’ve both spent their first day back together in bed, cuddling in sleep. She lets Harry talk her ears off about all the backstage shenanigans that occurred between him, the band, and the crew, casually mentioning all the times he’d ‘kindly abducted’ baby Rowland without informing Mitch or either Sarah that he wanted to babysit the newborn.

“I only had pure intentions, sunflower.” Harry defends when Sophia questions the morality of his statement, “I wanted the two of them to have some rest since I know baby Rowland can be quite the menace at night time. Besides, it’s not my fault baby Rowland distracted me with his adorable arm rolls that it completely lost my mind to inform his parents that I was taking him out with me on a walk. Baby Rowland’s arm rolls are simply delectable looking, sunflower! You won’t question me again if you saw it yourself.”

Sophia giggles, still slightly bewildered at Harry’s story, “I’m really going to have a word with your trainer if you found an innocent infant’s arm rolls delectable.”

Harry laughs with his green orbs rolling, “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“So you weren’t thinking of bread rolls or anything?”

Harry’s eyes widen while releasing a loud cackle, “Baby! I’m not exactly the witch from Hansel and Gretel who will eat innocent children like some cannibal. Who do you think I am?”

Sophia catches their order being walked to their table before replying, the perfect time really. “A person who’s too kind to eat innocent infants and really, really nice that he’d give his best friend one of his Yorkshire puddings.”

Her own demure smile clearly does not work as Harry quickly snatches the basket of Yorkshire pudding from the waiter’s tray, obstructing Sophia to reach for them.

“Not a chance, lady!”

Sophia has no room to push her argument as her entire attention begins to be pulled by all the Christmas Eve roast amazingness placed on the surface of their table.

Similar to everything in their friendship, Christmas roasts are also a symphonic task to both Sophia and Harry.

Like clockwork, they push their big plates in the middle of the table. Sophia goes first in practiced ease as she transfers all the beetroot on her plate to Harry’s, and then Harry does the same by placing all his parsnips to Sophia’s own mound of food. After, Harry begins to pour some of his gravy on the assortment of food on his plate, delightfully handing the little gravy pitcher to Sophia, saying her thanks as she pours the remaining on her plate combined with the contents of her own small pitcher.

As per tradition every meal, Sophia meets Harry’s waiting puckered lips that’s reaching for her temple on top of their table, tilting her head for his lips to kiss her there, Sophia’s own nose coming down to brush affectionately at the side of Harry’s in an Eskimos kiss like earlier this morning in the bungalow.

After that sweet gesture, Sophia and Harry began to ignore each other for the pile of holiday goodness in front of them.

Sophia doesn’t know how others do it. Harry and her simply can’t be conversing while eating the mouth-watering Christmas roast. How can they savor the rich flavors of it all if they’re blabbering their mouths to each other? Harry can wait to tell his jokes, and Sophia can take a break from the tedious cycle of taking the piss out of Harry or pining ridiculously over him.

Conversation between the two of them only resumed when Harry had burped loudly, Sophia had wiped her greasy lips with a napkin, and when the both of them popped a button from their own too-tight trousers when the food belly made out of Christmas tastiness began to show.

“I’ve reached the finish line,” Sophia breathes out blissfully, “I survived another Christmas Eve dinner!”

Harry giggles in reply, one of his hands splayed on his bloated stomach, “I’ve begun to show.” he notes before burping once again, “It hasn’t even been an hour after I made love with my savory roasted chicken, had the pleasure of tasting the sweet kiss of the beetroots, and oh god, I can’t forget about the supple touch of my Yorkshire puddings, and now our baby is showing in my stomach. Sunflower, look.”

Sophia tries to control the intensity of her laughter, Harry’s crazy antics is not good for her full stomach. “I can’t believe you just moaned and referenced sex in the presence of all the families here. The children, H.”

“Is in my stomach, I know.” Harry replies nonchalantly, ringed hands rubbing on said body part. “I wonder if mum was also this swollen when she was carrying me in her womb.”

Sophia snorts at his actions, “You’re not actually pregnant. That’s just the food coma hitting you bad and messing with your head.”

“You’re just jealous that my baby bump is bigger than yours.” Harry chides childishly, making Sophia scoff. “Sunflower, let’s show each other our bumps, come on. Let’s be like those mums that take prenatal yoga together.”

Sophia squawks a noise, “Bunny! I’m not doing that, stop being ridiculous!” The perfect distraction for Harry’s persistence comes to Sophia as the surface of her own bloated stomach hits her Gucci bag resting on her lap.

“Oh, the Christmas Crackers!” Sophia lets out, fetching out the pointed edge that nudged her stomach inside the sleek black bag. “Bunny, let's exchange before we head back to the tree lighting. Goodness knows I cannot walk in this state just yet.”

“I agree,” Harry says while reaching inside his coat pocket that’s behind the extra chair on their table, “Little Chicken and I refuse to waddle on the cold streets of Cheshire.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you just named your food baby, but alright!” Sophia claps her hand in unrestrained excitement, smiling brightly at the similarly beaming Harry before they exchange Christmas Crackers over their obliterated Christmas Eve dinner table.

This was another part of Christmas that made Sophia second guess herself when she made the definite decision to spend it alone, a hundred miles away from Harry in the hopes of sparing her bemoaning for more heart.

As part of their celebration in this season of gift giving, Sophia and Harry had made a tradition of getting their own Christmas Crackers customized for each other after they had the means to go the extra mile and replace the truly saddening, generic Christmas Crackers they had growing up. This way, Sophia could receive something better than a keychain, and Harry can write whatever joke he wants, and how many.

He once did 25 jokes equaling 25 pieces of folded paper within the cylinder cracker and Sophia had almost thought he had given her something extra special (like a miniature Gucci bag, perhaps?) from how hefty it looked. She just ended up being slightly disappointed when it was nothing but festive colored pieces of paper that were no better than the napkins Harry scribbled Sophia’s dad jokes on.

Thankfully that this year, there was only one piece of a gold folded paper that fell on the table when Harry gladly helped her pull the other end of her Christmas Cracker he had made specifically for her, the popping sound making them flush in festive cheer. She returns the gesture to Harry’s own cracker that she got freshly made in Australia. But unlike Sophia who then places her folded paper at the side to read last, Harry keenly reached for his red one and focused all his attention there.

Sophia waits for Harry’s reaction before she takes a good look at the contents of her Christmas Cracker. She doesn’t regret her decision when Harry’s previous smile of excitement quickly morphed into that of horror when he read, or did not read, the red paper from Sophia.

“Sunflower!” Harry gasped as if scandalized, “Why is there no joke?! Like there’s nothing written on it! Do I have to go down under to complain myself about this rubbish job they’ve done on my Christmas Cracker?! This has to be some sort of mistake!”

Forget about Sophia’s bloated stomach as she lets her howling laughter take her senses in absolute glee at Harry’s extremely perturbed face. “No, it’s not a mistake. I really instructed them to leave it blank.”

“What?!” Harry exclaims with the look of horror on his face multiplied to a hundred, “Why the fuck did you do that?! Are you nuts?!”

Sophia motions for him to quiet down since she really didn’t want to disturb the families dining along them as she herself tries to calm her on-going laughing spree.

“I’m not nuts,” Sophia defends despite the look of doubt in Harry’s face, “I just wanted to have a laugh myself this time around. You’re always the one shitting your pants from laughing at the jokes I give you, and it only gets amplified when you let me read mine like you’re not that one that gave it to me. It’s good I finally had the taste of what laughter on Christmas Eve feels like.”

Sophia winks at Harry to show some sort of appreciation for taking part in her plan (unknowingly, of course) but the man just gives her a deadpan look.

“You just ruined my Christmas Eve. It’s done for, gone.” Harry harrumphs with arms raised in dramatics before he begins to pointedly ignore Sophia who’s still giggling in her seat.

Harry’s ignoring act only lasts for a couple of seconds though. He’s back to giving appreciative coos to Sophia as he took the time to assess the goodies Sophia had given him this year.

There’s nothing traditional in the Christmas Crackers they got customized except for the little joke folded in a paper. Everything else after that, is unique to them which can be seen as Harry toys around his fingers the new snowman-printed little plastic clips that Sophia gave him with the thought of Harry’s growing chocolate curls in mind. Amongst the little tidbits that Sophia had gifted Harry from a few glitter guitar picks to a miniature crochet rainbow as a case for his AirPods, Harry takes the most giddiness at the koala charm that Sophia had bought in one of the local jewelry stores in Australia.

“Why isn’t there no chain?” Harry pouts at Sophia who has taken her time to watch Harry’s reaction to everything she had given without taking a peek on her own pile of small goodies from Harry.

“Because you never actually take-off your cross necklace so I thought there was no point in giving you a chained-necklace when you don’t like the layering look that much.”

Harry smiles that one they give each other when they want to express, ‘you know me so well, how?’ without really expressing it verbally.

“Then how am I supposed to wear this then?”

“You just attach it to the chain of your cross necklace, gimmie.” Sophia makes grabby hands at Harry’s chest where the infamous cross necklace familiarly rests.

Harry doesn’t waste any time unclasping it from the back of his neck and handing it easily to Sophia’s waiting hands. Her little fingers take no time at all as she expertly slots the end of the chain to the small hole on top of the koala charm. Smiling proudly, Sophia hands Harry’s necklace back to him, telling him to wear it again so they can see the final product.

“Oh, how adorable.” Harry coos with his head dipped downwards, index finger coming up to stroke the back of the koala charm like it actually is a real animal in need of some gentle petting. “Thank you so much, sunflower.”

The undeniable tone of sincerity combined with the soft tone and look on Harry’s smiling face was enough threat for Sophia to duck her own head down so as to not damage her poor combusting heart. She’s not made to withstand this amount of keen attention from Harry after months of her trying to get herself immune from it through the acts of gradual withdrawal of too much contact with the star-eyed boy.

Sophia finds her ultimate escape from getting sucked-in the wonderful pools of green gems that are Harry Styles’ eyes when her downturned eyes catch a glimpse of some of Harry’s gifts for her from the Christmas Cracker he customized.

“Is this what I think it is?” Sophia slowly says with a voice of incredulous fascination, picking up with her finger the item in question.

“Yup!” Harry nods in a gleeful manner as Sophia begins to inspect probably the oddest thing Harry had ever given her. “An air freshener with my face on it! Isn’t that so genius? I had to ask Jeff where they got them so I had some extra made for you.”

“Well, aren't I special?” Sophia mutters sarcastically, “Why in the world do you have your annoying mug on an air freshener, of all things, to begin with?”

“In which angle do I look annoying there?” Harry asks with a confident grin, “I’ll even go ahead and say that my team chose a rather flattering picture of me for the air freshener.”

You always look flattering, Sophia’s traitorous mind supplies when Harry just can’t stop with his slow drawl and answer Sophia’s question before she starts thinking into tricking herself that she really is so special to have received a one of a kind Harry Styles air freshener. Again, of all things rare it’s this one she feels super special about.

“They used some of it for the little Love on Tour vintage van display I had in some of the venues,” Harry supplies as an answer to Sophia’s question. “But, I did make sure to change the scent on yours to that of a lavender one cause I know you like those and they make you feel calm.”

“That is true,” Sophia agrees despite wanting to just plainly be weirded out instead of the fondness trying to seep in her skin at the fact that Harry remembers that she liked lavender scents when having a slight obsession of hoarding different aromas of scented candles would make it difficult for Harry to remember that information.

But of course, he’s just the best at making Sophia’s heart leap out of her chest at the most random of times!

Sophia can’t let Harry know that though, let her have her last Christmas Eve before she lets Harry do the mushiest shit to take the last blow on her weak heart.

“Though I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Sophia clears her love-crazy thoughts aside, “I don’t want to particularly get too calm on the roads that I end up falling asleep and then crashing my car on the next lamppost or something tragic like that.”

Harry merely shrugs, “Nah, I don’t reckon so. Just put your car on self-driving mode, that would do the job.”

Sophia looks at him confusedly, not the first time today that she’s been having the same expression, “What are you talking about? My car does not have that fancy option and you know it Mr. Multimillionaire who doesn’t like cheap sports cars and would rather buy the real, expensive, vintage vehicles.”

When Harry does not take the obvious door for him to take the dig on Sophia having less monetary means than him, Sophia starts to get suspicious. Her worries are not made better by the coy look that flashes on Harry’s face, bottom lip being captured by his teeth like he’s hiding something from her.

And then it clicks.

“Harry Edward Styles, if you got me a fucking Tesla for Christmas I will actually consider ruining your Christmas for good, like it’s going to be your last Christmas ever.”

Instead of getting Harry to fess-up and feeling threatened like Sophia had wished, Harry only whistles teasingly, “Saying my whole name twice in a singular day? I think that’s a new record for you, sunflower.”

Groaning, Sophia continues, “And I’ll say it for the rest of your life, which is ticking down every second that you don’t answer my question about you buying me fucking expensive shit that I don’t need.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know if I did.” Harry smarts back with a wink.

“Considering I asked more than once already, I think it’s a given point that I do wanna know.”

“Well too bad I’m not gonna answer because it’s not pressies time yet baby, wait till tomorrow morning on proper Christmas day.”

Before Sophia can hackle Harry even more to just spit it out, and completely disregarding the fact that him calling her baby has just thrown her off her momentum of interrogation, Harry points to the discarded folded gold paper near Sophia's hand that’s resting on the table.

“That one has been waiting for you since earlier.” Harry says, coy tilt in his features remerging, making Sophia squint her eyes in outright suspicion.

“If this piece of paper actually says you bought me a Tesla, I swear to fucking god Sty-”

“Sunflower! Just read it and shush!” Harry instructs in pleased laughter. Wow, good to know that Sophia’s threats of bodily harm are amusing for him.

Having no choice but to follow what he said, Sophia sighs and rolls her eyes at the suddenly highly attentive Harry as she picks up the little gold paper to hold in her hands. She unfolds it with ease as her eyes scan down to the impressive cursive strokes written on the paper.

Sophia was hoping to get a laugh out of what she reads this year, except laughing is apparently the farthest thing from what she would be doing as the words written on the paper punched the air straight out of her body.

“I don’t need the Biebs to tell you to kiss me under the mistletoe. I’d kiss you anywhere, and anytime I damn please. All the mistletoes can burn to ashes for all I care, it still won’t stop me from snogging you silly.”

It’s not a dad joke, is what Sophia’s mind first registers. And then it all went spiraling down a rabbit whole after she pieced together all the words and what they could possibly mean, the words, ‘he wants to snog me silly’ repeating in endless loops on Sophia’s head like a rollercoaster ride on steroids.

Sophia was far from laughing, the ringing on her ears repeating every single consonant and vowel from the words written on the paper that’s clenched tightly in her hands. She can feel the axis of the earth tilt beneath her, reality warping into a rose-tinted dimension because surely, this has got to be a joke right?

There’s no fucking way Harry would actually say these things to her, or worse, act upon these words. Harry is the most vocal person Sophia’s ever met, he’s not afraid to be vulnerable in the name of love, wears his bloody heart out on his sleeves for anyone to care or ruin. It doesn’t make sense to Sophia how that same boy would write these world-altering sentences instead of saying it to her face or even just dropping hints that he wants to snog Sophia until she’s lost all her wits and has become a total loon.

Well Sophia feels like a total loon right now, Harry’s successful in accomplishing that.

Her pining heart molded in the shape of her best friend is clashing with her rational head that cannot fit in that same mold. It’s like her heart is a cookie cutter shaped like a little gingerbread man, wanting to cut as many pieces of the dough, to always have more. But there’s this snowman cookie cutter who takes up all the other spaces of the dough, hindering the gingerbread cookie cutter from developing foolish notions that she can have more.

There’s no way anyone would want all their sugar cookies to be in the shape of a little gingerbread man when there are so many other cookie cutter shapes available. Just like there’s no way Harry would want something more than their friendship with her when there were so many people out there that are much bigger and brighter than Sophia could ever be.

There’s no way this isn’t a joke, some sick fucking joke.

Sophia breaks from her crazed thoughts and echoes of ‘more, more, no, no’ when she hears Harry calling her name.

Instead of feeling shock at the sudden turn of events just from reading a bloody piece of paper from a Christmas Cracker (again, of all things), Sophia feels a strong wave of confusion bloom in her chest, wrapping around both her thoughts and feelings like a vine connecting the two contrasting perceptions from earlier.

Sure, Sophia’s heart still wants more and her mind is still thinks that it’s a stupid idea to pursue. But as she’s returning Harry’s silent stare, Sophia just feels so bloody confused about everything.

For the first time in what feels like ever, Sophia can’t seem to read Harry’s face if he looks nervous because he might have just confessed his feelings for her, or if he’s trying to control a smirk because he thinks this is the best joke ever. Of course Sophia knows Harry cannot be that awful of a person, would never joke about that stuff with anyone, but he’s just staring at her with an expectant glow in his eyes.

What’s he expecting from her?

And because nobody wants to give Sophia straight answers for her question, her phone decides to start blaring-up, their alarm to head out back to the Christmas market breaking their stare-off.

Harry is the first one to remove his eyes on her, calling for a waiter to ask for their check. Sophia should feel relieved that the unsettling feeling of not being able to read Harry’s face like the back of her hand like the usual, can be put to rest for later as the next item on their Christmas Eve agenda is waiting for them.

But Sophia doesn’t think she can simply rest it.

Harry and Sophia are both in tune with each other in all regards whether it’s the good stuff or the bad ones. And not being able to have that tonight is beyond unsettling for Sophia, there’s no fucking way she can simply brush this off for a later time to analyze.

What is she even to analyze when it feels like she doesn’t even know her best friend anymore?

"Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." - Chapter One

The First Cup of Hot Chocolate 🎄

- Story Masterpost for the other chapters

Last minute Christmas plans are rubbish.

“Absolute rubbish”, Sophia mutters begrudgingly to herself, knuckles rubbing at her eyelids in an attempt to brush-off remnants of her jet lag still lingering in her system.

Her tiredness takes a sudden step back as she begins to make her way down the narrow stairs of the very familiar bungalow, a small smile appearing on Sophia’s face. She’s missed this homely, quiet, and cozy atmosphere. Celebrating Christmas here would definitely not be a complete bummer if only she had known that beforehand.

It had been established for months already that Sophia would be celebrating the holidays in sunny Australia after securing a month-long job in the country down under. As a sought-after freelance hairstylist to both the stars and your regular nine to five working individuals, Sophia is a regular jet-setter who’s always on the go around the world, accepting clients here and there. That’s why, it made perfect sense for Sophia to use her busy work schedule as a basis on why she was going to spend her holiday in Australia, despite being a lover of the cold winter weather that the summer season of Christmas in Australia will not be giving her.

Sophia’s justification of deciding to swim and party away in Brisbane instead of visiting the Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park in London, was not questioned by her parents or her best friend’s mother. Said best friend is the only one who had been suspicious of Sophia’s sudden desire to not alone spend the jolly season not asking in the chilly weather, but to also spend it alone, all by herself, for the first time.

Well, Sophia might have seen that one coming since she would like to believe that her best friend knows her well-enough, inside and out, considering that they’ve known each other at the young age of seven.

Sophia and Harry actually met during the Christmas season as well. How they met in that one Christmas market in Cheshire that now holds a dear place in their hearts, will have to be another story for another time. Sophia doesn’t have the brains, and is genuinely too jet-lagged to ponder that too fond of a story when all she wants to do is be a grump and explain why last minute Christmas plans are shit.

So long story short, Sophia and Harry are the type of best friends that are attached to the hip, to the point where each year they alternate on who gets to join the other’s family and spend Christmas with them just to be able to have the entirety of the holiday season together.

It’s public knowledge that as an international popstar turned rockstar, Harry Styles himself is a very busy man riding private planes to this country and that, to perform his little heart out in every sold out stadium or arena concerts he’s blessed to have earned. Harry’s current tour in America became a strong selling point for Sophia to argue her stand of spending her Christmas alone in Australia.

Harry’s a very doting best friend who would take it upon himself to ensure that Sophia is never too tired, too stressed, or too busy, regardless if that means he’ll purposefully tell Sophia that she can’t go to his concert because she’ll get too tired travelling and he doesn’t want that. With that being said, Sophia is also equal parts caring to her best friend, making her argument of not wanting Harry to travel to London and tire himself out just to spend Christmas with her, and then fly to America once again to continue his tour.

That last part, had been Harry’s breaking point in finally agreeing to her wishes despite that this year was supposed to be his turn to join Sophia and her family to whatever Christmas plans they have in mind. Sophia still remembers the adorable saddened pout Harry had given her over their FaceTime call, almost falling for his widened green eyes giving her the best wounded puppy look.

But Sophia had held her resolve, had stuck to her excuse of being too busy and not wanting her best friend to be worn-out when deep down, she knows that not exactly the case why. It’s for her own good anyway, is what she constantly reminds herself every time a single thought of wanting more decides to pop in her head like a traitorous air of hope.

It had honestly been fine after that. Sophia discusses with Harry her plans of attending a small Christmas party in one of the beaches in the Gold Coast that a few of her local Australian friends have invited her over. While Harry had shared his simple plan of spending the holiday with Anne who had flown to the US to watch and support her son in his last few shows for the year.

The shipping of Christmas gifts was being discussed when the two had found out that Anne had apparently made Christmas plans with a bunch of her friends, essentially leaving Harry alone during the festive season. Unlike Sophia, Harry cannot fathom spending Christmas by himself, and everything was clearly exhibited when he had called Sophia totally forgetting about their vast time difference, to almost sob his woes of being lonely during the most wonderful time of the year.

According to Anne, she had thought that Harry was going to fly to Australia to spend Christmas with Sophia, and that when she had asked Sophia’s parents, the latter had thought of the same thing despite their daughter phoning them just a few days earlier to explain her wishes of spending this time of the year by herself. Sophia had honestly almost felt offended when she reminded this to her parents, the two had only shrugged their shoulders saying it was impossible for her to not cave-in and ask for Harry to fly out.

Why they think she’s that soft for Harry is beyond her, but she does groan to herself when she realizes that she really is, too soft for her best friend when she instantly agreed to change her Christmas plans to be with him. Just to erase that offending frown and clouded gaze of upset in Harry’s gorgeous green irises.

And there she was disregarding every encouraging word she had given herself to stop wanting more.

Thankfully, that had been the last thing in Sophia’s mind as Harry and her spent the last week before Christmas having meetings with a local, well-known interior designer in Cheshire to spruce-up and make Harry’s family bungalow in Cheshire to be in a good Christmas shape as they finish their prior engagements in both the US and Australia.

Sophia is not a total liar alright, she really is quite busy during the month of December so despite her initial annoyance and dislike for not being the one to decorate the bungalow, she had reluctantly conceded in the end. Not liking the idea of possibly celebrating Christmas with Harry with nothing festive but a single Christmas themed printed napkin because they’re so late in the game of buying decorations.

It may or may not be also because of Harry’s dimples and all-too clever pleading puppy eyes of his that made Sophia agree, but that’s neither here nor there if anyone asked her.

So here she is now on Christmas Eve, regretting ever falling for Harry’s adorable face after the head designer has said they would put a little Christmas village on the table in the opening walk-way of the bungalow like that alone made his holiday the best time already. Sophia’s definitely regretting it when said Christmas village is colored white, like every single decoration in the bungalow.

When the two had said they wanted to make the bungalow feel really festive and they like the feel of a white Christmas, Sophia had definitely not pictured it to be this pristine white everywhere, it’s as if the only thing missing is freaking real snow for the bungalow to really embody a white Christmas.

Thankfully it wasn’t actually snowing despite how much fun it would be to make a snowman with Harry, because the latter would surely be idiotic enough to bring heaps of snow from outside to the inside of the bungalow to really make his miniature Christmas village really experience snow.

The first thing that came to Sophia’s mind upon arriving back in England two days ago and seeing the white Christmas theme of the bungalow, is that, ‘Oh boy, Harry’s clumsy arse would surely cause havoc in this white Christmas heaven.’ Though kept the thought on the back side of her mind as sleep called for her name that entire day, and the next day after that.

Sophia basically forgot to warn Harry about being extra careful when he arrives the night after her, and now she’s paying that debt seeing how Harry has already stained the white snow globe designed mat placed underneath the first step of the stairs.

Sophia would surely have a talk about Harry’s lack of care for his Gucci boots once he wakes up, since those mud imprints that have stained the mat are in the shape of said favorite footwear of his. Then she’ll make him clean the stain in the laundry room because Mr. Popstar is not excused from cleaning his own mess, not under Sophia’s watch.

Before that, Sophia really needs some food inside her. That's the only incentive that made her leave the confines of the cozy warm bed and her best friend’s naturally furnace-warm body that may or may not have been wrapped around hers ever since the boy had arrived from the land of the free last night. Bone-tired and only coherent enough to cuddle his best friend on their apparently now shared bed.

Day one of being reconnected and the simple entanglement of limbs has Sophia’s mind already whirling with thoughts of how she should treasure each cuddle Harry gives her before they part their ways again, leaving a deep longing in her bones to touch and be near her best friend.

More, always more.

Shaking her head, Sophia opens the fridge and the same kitchen cupboard where Anne keeps the bread away from her bread-crazy son, to pick her needed ingredients for today’s Christmas Eve breakfast. She feels comforted by the heated floors of the bungalow, the chilly winter England weather really permeates the confines of one’s home and Sophia’s fluffy dressing gown is not enough to combat the shiver it brings.

Basking in the rare quiet of a holiday morning, Sophia contently begins cutting an avocado in half before scooping off its shell and generously spreading it in two pieces of freshly toasted bread. She moves to the kitchen stove, humming quietly as she starts to fry eggs for their avocado toast, thinking of the best ways to wake-up a still sleeping Harry without provoking the jet-lagged, weary grump side of his.

As if being summoned by her thoughts, Sophia hears Harry’s familiar deep voice calling her pet name for her.

“Sunflower,” Harry says, voice much gravely in the morning due to its lack of use. It honestly does nothing but send tingles down Sophia’s spine at how pleasant it feels to hear him call for her in that deep timbre.

“Hm?” Sophia hums in reply, trying to tamper down the smile persisting to spread in her sleepy face, knowing that Harry only makes his presence known by calling her pet name as to not startle Sophia’s easily surprised self.

She ultimately fails at her attempt, grinning widely upon feeling Harry’s strong arms wound around her body from behind. His similar state of being adorned in his own fluffy dressing gown, makes Sophia feel even warmer as Harry cuddles her tighter with his face dropping down gently on the crook of her neck, nose delicately nuzzling her cold-bitten skin.

“Why are you cold?” Harry questions in that same deep tone, nose brushing once again on the skin of her cold neck for emphasis, “And most importantly, why are you up already?”

Sophia slightly shivers at the warm breath Harry exhales for every question he has asked, expertly flipping both eggs on the pan before giving her reply, “First, I’m cold because that’s what happens when it’s winter in England, you’re just abnormally too-warm to notice that. And second, I’m up because I’m hungry.”

Harry lets out a little groan of displeasure, face burrowing deeper in the now warm skin of Sophia’s nape making her let out her own little sigh of comfort.

“It’s Christmas Eve, no teasing.” Harry grumbles almost childishly, “And you can’t use the excuse of being hungry as a justification for leaving me cold and lonely in bed. I didn’t even offer you the same horrible treatment by waking you up last night to greet me at the door like a polite host would do. Instead, I let you sleep and enjoy your dream land while you’re here neglecting me alone in bed, giving me no choice but to wake-up myself.”

Giggles never fail to erupt from Sophia’s chest every time she’s subjected to Harry’s dramatics, this morning is no different.

“Stop being a grump on Christmas Eve,” Sophia retaliates teasingly, free hand squeezing the arm Harry has resting on her stomach, “besides, you’re only telling half the story. I didn’t see anything stopping you from jumping on my cozy sleeping form last night, essentially waking me up from my peaceful slumber only to be held captive by your big and long limbs like you’ve been cuddle-starved for years.”

It’s Harry’s turn to let out deep giggles of his own, “Heyy..” he draws out in that adorable whine of his that’s got Sophia grinning from ear to ear, feeling his bottom lip poking out and resting smoothly at the side of her neck.

“Not being a grump, I’m genuinely just cuddle-starved because Jeff and Mitch are shit at it. Never can get them to mold their bodies to fit against mine perfectly like yours does. Plus, your point is unfair when we both know my body’s natural reaction when seeing you snuggled in bed is to join the party by smothering you with my powerful cuddles.”

What’s unfair in Sophia’s opinion, is Harry’s ability to easily say things like that of alikening Sophia to some sort of puzzle piece that is the only perfect fit to Harry’s body when cuddling as if saying shit like that doesn’t cause Sophia to spiral down in her thoughts on what the extent of those words mean.

Further hearing that it’s instinctual for Harry to cuddle Sophia’s sleeping form, shouldn’t be a surprise since they’ve slept and snuggled in the same bed thousands of times already since they were young. It’s only surprising this time around, because Sophia is treading the fine line of being content in her best friend's arms at night or wanting to tip the edge of their friendship to pine and find more.

Those thoughts are heavy on a normal day, for tired and travel-worn Sophia, it's even much worse.

Sophia sighs instead, turning the stove off with her eggs now cooked, head slightly tilting to press her forehead on Harry’s sleep mused curls as the latter remains burrowed on the crook of her neck.

“Well, my body’s natural reaction when it’s hungry is to eat itself and I don’t think that’s particularly healthy.” Sophia feels relieved that her change of topic isn’t noticed by Harry, the boy holding her close just chuckles heartily, vibrating the two of them in light happiness.

“So, why don’t you go make our cuppas while I finish preparing our avocado toasties?”

Sophia’s request is met by Harry’s lips placing a gentle kiss on the side of her neck, squeezing her body once before letting her go and walking a few feet away in the small bungalow kitchen to prepare their cuppas.

Despite Sophia's conflicting emotions, everything feels easy around Harry now that they’re back in each other’s presence. It’s always been like this is the thing, the two of them working in sync seamlessly even weeks of being apart from each other. That’s why they’re best friends really.

Sophia can prepare their breakfast just the way they like it, chili flakes on top of her avocado toastie, and a few drizzles of Sriracha on Harry’s. Harry on the other hand, can make a mean cuppa perfect for their own taste buds, fetching a pitcher of milk for him, and a little jar of honey for Sophia without prompt.

Sooner than later, the two of them simultaneously take a seat in front of each other at the small breakfast table. Their space is quite sparse to the point where when they sat down at the same time, Harry’s shin hits Sophia’s own under the table, shaking the both of them in surprise together with their food on top of the table dangerously moving.

“Harry, careful.” Sophia gently chastises, Harry sheepishly apologizing while helping her fix their thankfully intact and non-spilled food.

“Sorry,” Harry repeats, carefully sitting down on his chair this time around, “I forgot that mum didn’t change the furniture in the bungalow despite my sudden growth spurt years ago. God, I forgot how much of a gangly giant I feel around here.”

Sophia joins Harry’s giggles, eyes suddenly locking at each other as Sophia watches Harry’s joking smile turn to that of fondness, her insides melting like the non-existent Christmas snow.

“Good -” Harry cuts himself off, head turning to check the time at the wall clock, “afternoon, sunflower.” he chuckles, shaking his head, “shit, it’s afternoon already?”

Sophia lightly laughs at the disbelief coating Harry’s question, “Yup, so I won’t even be surprised if you’re just as hungry as me. Good afternoon to you too, bunny.”

Her greeting makes Harry perk-up from his seat, head moving forward to hers with his pink lips placed in a pout, eyes soft and looking expectantly at her. It barely takes Sophia a second before she’s meeting Harry in the middle with her head tilted as she offers her temple for him to kiss in greeting, Sophia’s nose brushing against his delicately in the same natural ease before the both of them return to their own seats starting to dig their own plates of brunch.

It’s a thing they’ve done a million times over like most other things innately unique to them.

Harry had first started greeting her with a kiss on Sophia’s temple when he was seven and saw Anne kissing her forehead every time they saw each other or part ways at the end of the day. A cherubic frowning Harry had gently grabbed Sophia’s face that one time, pink, chocolate covered lips smacking a loud kiss on her temple for the first time before proclaiming that no one else was allowed to kiss Sophia on her temple except for him.

Would you look at that, a possessive, jealous little shit even at the innocent age of seven. Not like Sophia’s complaining though, how can she when it’s one of the sweetest things that Harry and her only share and hold special to them with everything about their friendship being so public because of their careers.

She’s thankful that up to now, it’s deeply ingrained in them to greet each other in that way like nothing has changed. Like it doesn’t make Sophia feel different tingles when Harry reaches out for her to hold close in his broad body, to kiss her temple and let her run her nose against his, every time he’s about to head on stage.

So nothing has changed, nothing in Harry’s perspective at least.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to head back to bed with me for a few more minutes?” Harry asks after swallowing his final bite of his avocado toastie, any traces of his egg missing as well. “I promise I won’t cuddle you too hard this time.”

Harry flutters his eyelashes at Sophia, trying to be coy and persuasive. It should work with how charming he is, but all Sophia can focus on is how ridiculous he looks with bread crumbs all over his mouth and drops of tea in the front of his dressing gown.

“You’re so messy, bunny,” She chuckles lightly instead, pushing the container of napkins towards Harry on the table, “and no pleading from you will destroy my resolve of having a productive Christmas Eve.”

“Sleeping is productive,” Harry counters, napkin now in hand slowly fixing himself, “we’re both travel-tired so it makes sense if we still need to sleep.”

“And then waste a perfect afternoon getting stuck in your strong, giant hold? Or worse, getting stuck in your unmoving hold with your loud, unrelenting snoring? I don’t think so.”

Harry throws his crumpled napkin at Sophia for her teasing, the two laughing when it hits her forehead and bounces to her empty tea cup.

“You're such a child, I swear,” Harry says around a smirk, “Everyone snores, get over it!”

“I’m the child?” Sophia laughs incredulously, “You’re the one throwing crumpled napkins at me like a child who can’t take the harsh truth.”

“I only threw one napkin!” Harry laughs, “Napkin, as in singular, not napkins which is plural.”

Not comprehending why in the world Harry is currently talking English grammar with her, Sophia gives her pearly white smile at him, saying, “Well it’s also our first, as in first singular, Christmas Eve together with just the two of us, no parents or siblings around. Are you going to take away my first Christmas Eve alone with you by holding me hostage in a cuddle like every single free time you have all year round?”

Harry’s joking aura leaves him after that, smile softening like earlier with his focus fixed solely on her, “If you put it that way, I guess I can cuddle with you some other time then.”

Sophia snorts at the way Harry answers like he’s the one being inconvenienced here. Any other time, Sophia would gladly cancel plans just to bask in Harry’s warm cuddles. But it’s Christmas time, and surely that shouldn’t apply to this time of the year when it’s kind of offensive how the universe is making Sophia choose between Harry’s loving touches or the amazing festivities waiting for her outside.

That’s just cruel.

“And,” Harry continues, stopping Sophia from cursing the universe for making her choose, “I already bought two tickets for the Cheshire Christmas Market, and special passes to the brand-new ice rink beside it.”

“Oh thank the lord,” Sophia actually sighs in relief upon hearing that, “I honestly thought we both forgot to book in advance and we’d have to waste an extra hour just to wait in line at the ticket booth.”

Harry whistles, “Look who’s sounding like a diva here. Can’t wait in line for an extra hour? Where’s the patient girl that waited with me in line for two hours at The Script’s concert years back?”

Sophia laughs at Harry’s teasing, and would gladly throw a used napkin at his head if she did have one, “That’s different!”

“Different?” Harry smirks, “Please do tell.”

“It’s different because we already had tickets, plus! It’s The Script, of course I’m going to wait patiently in line.”

“Ohh, special treatment I see.” Harry points out to be annoying, making the two of them laugh regardless, “So you’re telling me you’re not willing to wait in line for the seasonal goodies inside the Christmas market? Like not for Christmas special hot chocolate? The Christmas roast dinner? The mince pie? The cranberry sausage rolls?”

Sophia gasps, “Of course I’d wait for those! Who do you think I am? Some Grinch?”

“A diva Grinch who’s not willing to wait in line to buy a ticket to get inside the Christmas market.”

“I’m willing to wait! I just can’t stand crying babies and loud families waiting in line with me. It’s too noisy, which does not help with the already loud atmosphere that the Christmas season brings everywhere.”

It’s now Harry who gasps dramatically at her, green eyes wide and all, “A diva, and ungrateful for the Christmas loud excitement Grinch? Holy moly you’ve changed, sunflower.”

“Oh sod off!” Sophia says in an amused grin, “The only factor that might have made me change my views for waiting in line is because of you. My rockstar best friend who won’t let me wait for even a single second in any line of any of his shows ever since his humble boy band beginnings, until now that he's a full-blown rockstar performing with his tits out just because.”

Sophia’s smirking smartly at a cackling Harry. Sophia knows that he’s definitely laughing this hard because of her copying his ‘just because’ answer every time she asks why in the world he’s only wearing a sparkly fringe vest that costs more than a fully covered outfit that she can get somewhere else.

“Touché.” Harry relents after his laughter subsides, “I think that’s enough chatter for the two of us. All that laughing is making my head hurt, to be honest.”

Sophia gives him an understanding smile, standing up to get some vitamins from one of the kitchen drawers, getting two from the jar and handing one to a now sleepy grinning Harry.

“Drink those up, bunny.” Sophia instructs, “Have to get you out of that jet-lag or else I might be a total nightmare for you later on once all the Christmas kiosks are calling for my name.”

“You’re already starting to become a nightmare so why don’t you leave me here to fix our used dishes while you go get ready and finally leave my side for just a few minutes.”

“Bunny!” Sophia exclaims in faux offense, helping a chuckling Harry bring their used dishes to the kitchen sink, “You love my company, don’t lie.”

“I do.” Harry simply agrees, Sophia’s heart skipping a beat not expecting such an honest answer in their apparent bantering. “I love your company so much that I need to be preoccupied while you go get ready so I won’t miss you too much.”

Now how does Harry expect Sophia to leave his side after saying those words dripping with sweetness? How when Sophia wants to hear more, needs more all the time nowadays.

“You’re such a sap.” Sophia finds herself saying instead.

“Sunflower, you love it.” Harry smirks while placing the rubber gloves on his abnormally ringless hands because a dishwasher is not a thing he likes to use, grandpa.

Sophia rolls her eyes good naturedly, “I didn’t say anything,” she says, about to make her way back up stairs to fix up.

“Hey, sunflower,” Harry stops her from walking, Sophia turning her back to look at him with one eyebrow raised in question, “wear something Gucci or you're not allowed in my car.”

Sophia splutters a laugh, “You go try and fail to threaten me with that, while I go and call Mitch and Jeff and tell them you said they’re shit cuddlers.”

Sophia hears Harry’s honking laughter as she starts walking out of the kitchen again, the small bungalow allowing her to hear him say, “It’s true anyway! I don’t know how Sarah and Glenne can stand being with shit cuddlers!”

And Sophia doesn’t know how to tell Harry that he’s right.

Every single friend or family member that she’d cuddle with, is shit at doing it compared to him.

Harry and Sophia head out on the road not even an hour later after their brunch.

Harry smiles in triumph upon seeing Sophia emerge from the front door with her black Gucci Marmont bag slung across her fluffy white jacket and resting perfectly just above her tight, black leather trousers.

“Look who joined the party,” Harry smirks, now ringed hands smoothing his own brown Gucci coat.

“I’m only using this bag because none of my other smaller ones can fit your inhaler inside.” Sophia replies as the two of them enter Harry’s Range Rover, her hands instantly dialing up the heater system of the car while Harry takes control of their satnav to place the address of the Cheshire Christmas Market.

“Oh shit,” Harry mumbles, “I forgot about that prime thing, thanks sunflower for always remembering.” and because he’s a total sweetheart, Harry takes her cold hand in his to press a kiss on the back of it in thanks.

Only in thanks, Sophia reminds herself feeling grateful for the nth time in the duration of their entire friendship that she’s not the type of person that easily blushes. She’d for sure not be successful in concealing her feelings of wanting more if she did blush at every sweet thing Harry did for her. It would be so often that Harry would think they have to go to the A&E to get her checked because nobody is capable of blushing that hard for that long.

Thankfully her cheeks don’t get tinted pink that effortlessly, and that the next few minutes of their drive consists of comfortable silence between them, without Harry trying to spew sweet nothings here and there to an unknowing Sophia.

Until Harry opened his stereo and picked his chosen Christmas song for them to listen to.

Sophia feels her cheeks flush, not because it was a sweet song that Harry dedicated to her or something. Her cheeks are now tinted pink out of sheer shock and slight outrage.

“Is this ‘All I Want My Christmas Is You’ by Mariah Carey?” Sophia asks, metaphorically sitting at the edge of her seat waiting for Harry’s answer in complete concentration.

Harry turns his head out of the road for a second to look at her, eyebrow raising as he answers, “Yeah, the one and only Christmas queen Mariah C.”

Sophia gasps in complete appalled making Harry turn to her in shock at the noise she lets out, “What?! Why are you listening to this version of her song and not the one with Justin Bieber in it?”

That makes Harry erupt in laughter, laughing harder when he takes a look at Sophia’s eyes throwing daggers at him, “Are you serious? You really think I’d be listening to a Christmas song with Justin Bieber in it?”

“Excuse me?!” Sophia says in surprise once again, hand coming up to her chest in full effect of her startled emotions, “My all-time favorite Justin Bieber song is a Christmas one and it’s called-”

“Mistletoe, I know.” Harry cuts her off, “You made my ears bleed enough times while listening to it every bloody holiday, sunflower.”

Sophia huffs in indignation, “And I still don’t understand why it’s not yet your favorite JB song, nor your favorite Christmas song ever.” Sophia shivers to show her disgust at the still playing song, “I really need to play you more of my Christmas playlist to save you from these very inferior Christmas song selections.”

Harry snorts a laugh, attention focused on the road but eyes burning with amusement and clear mirth, “I’m really starting to question your song choices, sunflower. When the band took a break, you were the most excited for Niall’s solo music to come out. Not mine, your best friend since childhood, let me remind you.”

Sophia nonchalantly dismisses Harry’s statement with a wave of her freshly manicured hand, “Niall’s always going to be my blonde soul sister so of course, I’d be the most ecstatic for his solo music. Just to remind you, I was the first to hear his entire album before you, Louis, or Liam got the chance to listen to it.”

“Oh, I don’t need a reminder,” Harry rolls his eyes despite the grin visible on his side profile, “your explanation doesn’t even make sense. Niall’s not even a real blonde!”

“And you’re not a real baker either.” Sophia points out smartly, loving the way Harry’s jaw drops, eyes finally looking at her again.

“You’re being quite a menace on Christmas Eve, baby,” Harry says after regaining his bearings from Sophia’s witty response. “I’m not sure if Santa will appreciate your behavior right now.”

Sophia gives him a deadpan look, “Santa’s not real, bunny.”

“And you’re just further convincing me that you’re a Grinch.” Harry smirks at her on a red light, “A Grinch that likes an Irish leprechaun’s songs and a Christmas song of a Canadian maple leaf.”

Sophia guffaws from Harry’s completely ridiculous statement. His humor is something endearing, but difficult to grasp the first time around. Thankfully, she’s known the kid ever since the beginnings of his obsession with dad jokes. The dork actually asked Sophia’s dad for jokes and wrote it down in various pieces of napkin, then forgot to take with him the said napkin so the cycle repeats of Harry asking her father the same, literal dad jokes again and again.

“I’m inclusive with my choices of artists, what can I say?” Sophia shrugs her shoulders making Harry chuckle at her reply, “Now give me your phone so you can be inclusive with your Christmas songs as well.”

Harry doesn’t even offer a fight, easily handing Sophia his phone without even a second look at her. He just lets her be, eyes still focused on the road, not showing any signs of fear that his best friend might find something in his phone. What’s Harry got to hide anyway?

I don’t know, the self-deprecating side of Sophia’s mind supplies, a picture of his new romantic relationship partner as his lock screen?

Rationally, Sophia knows Harry won’t blindside her like that as the both of them pretty much tell each other everything. Maybe not the fact that Sophia is basically head over heels in love with her total dreamboat of a best friend. That's a really big thing that Sophia’s hiding so now she’s not sure if Harry’s hiding something that big too, like a new girlfriend or boyfriend he’s got stashed somewhere. Besides, ever since Love on Tour started, Sophia has become more conscious of limiting their time of interaction whether less shows to visit, or less messages and calls exchanged.

Their usual three times a day per-week FaceTime calls have been reduced to once a day per-week. People might still think that’s borderline too clingy, but Sophia’s proud of reducing their 18 FaceTime calls a week to that of seven. Plus, they’re not ashamed to be called clingy anyway because only a moron would think they aren’t.

The point is, their reduced interaction might have caused a little slip-up of some secret new beau and now Sophia is slightly freaking out in the passenger seat of Harry’s car, with the latter's phone clutched tightly on her hands holding the verdict to her sanity.

Sophia actually exhales a sigh of relief internally upon gaining the balls to open Harry’s phone, only to see the same lock screen photo that he’s had since before his sophomore tour started. She even swoons just a little bit, seeing her own smiling face in between Gemma and Anne as the three of them posed for Harry’s phone. Their necks are bared proudly, showcasing the personalized pearl necklaces that Harry had gotten them with their own names being spelled out by little beads at one side of the necklace.

Not only was this picture significant in terms of highlighting Harry’s little loving gift for his three girls, but the photo was also taken in the Italian holiday that Harry took them last summer.

Without saying much that would make Sophia weep in joy and appreciation for the man currently driving her to the Christmas market, let’s just say that their last holiday together had been really special and had caused some sort of epiphany for Sophia, way before the Christmas season began.

Anyway, back to the agenda at hand of educating Harry in being more inclusive with his Christmas song selections, Sophia opens the music application that Harry is using and quickly types out the specific song she was looking for.

Sophia is quite surprised that just as the intro of the song starts, no lyrics or whatever, just purely instrumental, Harry whips his head so fast in her direction that Sophia slightly feared for their safety in that moment since crashing into a car is not really part of her holiday agenda today.

“Why are you playing that song?!” Harry all out cries in surprise, eyes wide in disbelief.

Call Sophia shocked as well, “I’m surprised you even know the song without hearing the lyrics yet. Are you a secret Jonas Brothers fan and you’re just too shy to tell me? You know I won’t judge right? They’re basically my favorite boy band ever, well, after One Direction I suppose because I don’t want to hurt Niall’s feelings or anything like that.”

Sophia’s teasing makes Harry’s defined jaw drop once again. Usual doe-like eyes now turned into slits as he alternates his focus on the road and to her face filled with utmost chaff.

Shaking his head, Harry replies, “You of all people know that as a side effect of being in a boy band myself, I can’t simply listen to other boy band songs without cringing. So it’s kind of rude for you to assume that I listen to this song on the regular. But do you know what’s more rude than you thinking I listen to boy band songs, and for you valuing Niall’s feelings more than mine?”

Sophia bats her eyelashes in an annoying manner up at Harry’s smirking side profile, “What? May you please enlighten me?”

In perfect timing, they hit another red light which allows Harry to turn his body slightly sideward towards Sophia, with his full attention now on the girl. His hand reaches forward to cup one of Sophia’s rounded cheeks as he lowered his smirking gaze directly for her eyes to see.

“What’s more rude, borderline offensive actually, is that you pretty much abandoned your own country by giving your alliance to the music of not only the Irish leprechaun, but that too of the star-spangled, purity ring, wearing boys.”

Sophia does not know which of the noise of shock or the uproar of aughter that simultaneously erupted from her chest, was louder than the other from this ridiculously hilarious shit Harry is pouring out.

How he knows about that specific detail about the Jonas Brothers is beyond Sophia. She might have been a fan, but not that obsessed of a fan that she just had to gush that fact out to her best friend, a man who never liked boy bands to begin with. Sophia’s a very considerate best friend, alright.

With her cackling subsiding, Sophia lets out, “Why does it seem to me that your concern does not actually lie in the fact that they’re not British. But your problem is more-so regarding the purity rings.” Sophia then gasps with her hand covering her matte-pink lips, “Is this your odd way of asking me to get you one as your Christmas pressie from me?”

“Fuck no!” Harry’s quick and resounding tone and look of absolute horror, was even more hilarious than all he’s said this entire car ride. “Purity rings are absolutely fucking lame! And I bet you, they only used that tactic so they seem more approachable and good ‘boyfriend materials’ for their fans.”

Sophia is literally hyperventilating in laughter on the passenger seat, “Holy shit! You’re one feisty bunny right now, H! You can’t be bitter about your god awful, fashion choices of too preppy ‘American, good lads’ type of style just because that didn’t work out and the Jonas Brothers’ purity rings did. Besides, Nick Jonas has curls so that’s a definite selling point.”

Harry guffaws at that, one hand on the steering wheel while the other waves frantically at his hair, “Then what do you call this? I have curls too!”

“Well, Nick Jonas’ curls are way better!”

Snorting, Harry replies, “I mean, I don’t know if I can argue with that considering the state of my hair right now, proper bird’s nest I think.” he dishevels his growing chocolate curls atop his head even more, Sophia almost feeling cheated on that Harry’s driving and she can’t just reach over to do it herself.

The fact that it looks like nothing to a bird's nest is on the tip of Sophia’s tongue ready to give rightful appreciation to Harry’s curls. Except the latter opens his big mouth and erases any coherent thought on Sophia’s mind.

“If only I’ve gotten you to agree to become my hairstylist already, then I for sure would have way superb curls than bloody Nick Jonas.”

Sophia knows Harry is joking, well partially at least since they have been bantering for most of the duration of this car ride. But she also knows there’s some semblance of truth in Harry’s statement, never one to shy away from telling others his constant failed endeavours of convincing Sophia to join him on the road and become his hairstylist for every show or guesting.

In all honesty, it does sound rather brilliant. Sophia’s a celebrity hairstylist, Harry’s a popstar-rockstar-celebrity hybrid of an individual, and them being the bestest of friends who work seamlessly and in complete synch without the need to be prompted by the other to do this and that, does ring a perfect tune for a work plan.

Except life isn’t that simple, and not every seamlessly sounding working plan always ends up like the flawless tune of a masterpiece like Sign of the Times.

Sophia believes in the phrase: ‘don’t knock it, till you’ve tried it’ and has devoted time as Lou Tesdale’s assistant hairstylist during the Where We Are Tour back in 2014. It had been one of the best years of Sophia’s life; how can it not when she gets to spend the majority of her time with Harry just like the good ‘ol times before music and fans took the majority of her best friend away from her.

If you ask Sophia what then made her not want to be Harry’s hairstylist again years later when it seems that only good memories were garnered during the time that she was, well Sophia has a few answers that she uses to remind herself every now and again on why it’s just not a good idea for her sanity to join Harry on his solo tours.

Maybe because spending a lot of time with Harry developed some things in her heart and mind that were never there before?

Maybe she finally realized that being attached on the hip with Harry has some repercussions once she isn’t?

Maybe being with each other for months on the road without giving respective alone times because they just can’t physically and mentally be separated from one another, made Sophia realize how easily co-dependent they get?

Or maybe it’s the fact that Sophia doesn’t give a bloody fuck about all those reasons and just wants to live with it, with Harry, and kiss his face silly after he also realizes that he wants more in their friendship.

So that’s why it’s not a good idea. It can actually be quite dangerous for Harry if he has successfully persuaded Sophia to become his hairstylist, only to be mauled by her persistent, non-platonic, loving ways.

Instead, Sophia always answers using the safe route: ‘I don’t like to mix business with pleasure, and I’m not talking about sex you horny twat.’

Right now though, Sophia is not willing to go down that road and continue fighting for her stance amidst Harry’s very effective ways of persuasion. Add that to the Christmas spirit of giving, then Sophia is surely on the brink of saying ‘yes’ if Harry flat-out asks her to be his hairstylist now in his car.

Sophia just rolls her eyes at Harry like every time his annoying (handsome) face is too annoying she doesn’t even have enough words to describe how deeply annoying he is.

“I’ll only agree to your business proposal once you make me my Christmas song.”

“What?” Harry turns to her for a moment with a confused sheen on his face.

Sophia exhales, like Harry’s confusion is so not needed right now, “The Harries and I, especially me, bunny, have been waiting for you to release your own Christmas album, or even just a Christmas song.”

Harry lets out a surprised laugh, “Since when? I don’t think I’ve ever seen: ‘For Bunny to make me a Christmas song’ ever on your wishlist, sunflower.”

Sophia huffs, “That’s because I have no wishlist, dumby. And, I’ve been wanting for a Harry Styles Christmas album, or a singular song because you’re such a slow-moving grandpa when making one, eons ago! Like literally eons, bunny!”

Harry huffs in return, “Am not a grandpa, just a perfectionist. Plus, drop it with your ‘eons’ crap because I have seriously never heard you ask me to make you a Christmas song. You’re always playing the bloody Bieber song every holiday, that you wanting my own Christmas music is really far-fetched.”

“Well maybe I won’t be playing ‘Mistletoe’ that bloody often if you had dropped some Christmas songs already.”

Harry stays silent for a moment, the Jonas Brothers song already finished playing before he turns to look at Sophia with a grin and an upward quirk to his eyebrow, the latter mimicking his questioning smile.

“So you’re telling me that if I’ve made you a Christmas album, or even just a single Christmas song eons ago, then I didn’t have to hear the Bieb’s song every time the holiday season is in the corner, and you’d have agreed to become my hairstylist already for every single moment I need to get my hair done?”

“Yup,” Sophia simply nods, watching the way Harry’s beam of a smile seem to shine brighter like all his Christmas wishes have been answered already. Except it’s not.

“But,” Sophia continues, noticing the visible sudden stiffness in Harry’s smile, probably knowing that his dreams will be crushed in front of him at this moment. “that proposal of mine has already left town and went on holiday because you still have yet to give me a single Christmas melody this year.”

Sophia pouts in faux sympathy at the look of saddened protest Harry is giving her while trying to focus on driving, “It’s alright bunny, better luck next year. Now, I’ll just play ‘Like It’s Christmas’ by the lovely, previous purity ring wearing Jonas Brothers again. Maybe you can even get inspiration or valuable notes while listening to this that you can use for your future ventures in the holiday music genre.”

Sophia doesn’t even wait for an answer from Harry, pressing the play button once again on his phone.

When she doesn’t get any reaction from him in any form, Sophia sees it fit to take out her own phone and take a video of her jamming out to the song while also angling the camera to a poker-face, driving Harry.

It’s not uncommon for Sophia to exploit these simple and random moments that Harry and her have together to share with his adoring fans. The Harries are usually waiting to be blessed for such content every time news has spread that Sophia was currently with Harry spending time together.

Sophia doesn’t mind sharing some private moments of Harry and her out to the public, it’s the least she can do with how supportive and loving they are with one of the most important people in her life. Everything is dandy as long as said private moments are shared with her or Harry’s consent beforehand.

That’s why, thanks to Sophia, there are photos and videos of Harry circling the internet containing either a compilation of Harry burning his tongue for every soup he tries tongue-first before a show, Harry trying out the most ridiculous outfits every time they go shopping and end up purchasing it, losing his shit by carrying the nearest person beside him and jumping up and down in joy while a Packers game is playing on the telly, or a wine-drunk Harry in Italy convincing his mother that he was adopted and not her son because he’s so good at Italian that there’s no way he’s British.

Adding to that, is now a holiday themed video of Harry being a heartless Christmas Grinch by not dancing along to Jonas Brothers together with Sophia who’s singing her heart out. Complete with shoulder shimmies and bopping off her head every ‘woo woo woo’ the Jo Bros sing out.

And because it’s not a verified, Harries exclusive content if it does not containing Harry being the star of the show (fucking narcissist), Harry absolutely knocks Sophia of her feet in complete surprise as he suddenly sings along to Nick Jonas.

I can’t deny what I’m feeling inside

No matter the reason, no matter decision

My heart will keep beating, you better believe

That part is so fast and near the end of the song that all Sophia can do is watch her video back and laugh along with Harry at how polar their facial expressions were at that part of the clip. Sophia’s eyes and mouth were wide open like a literal deer caught in headlights, while Harry is absolutely feeling himself while hitting every note of the song perfectly.

“Look at your face!” Harry honks in laughter, pointing at Sophia’s phone screen as they’re waiting in line at the carpark entrance at the Cheshire Christmas Market, “It’s like you’re hearing Medicine all over again!”

“Shut up!” Sophia whines, giggles falling out seconds later, “I can’t believe you really are a secret Jo Bros fan! I knew it was suspicious that you have knowledge about their purity rings. Why didn’t you tell me sooner, bunny?!”

Harry simply groans. And because he’s always keen for dramatics, he also hits his head on the steering wheel.

You don’t even have to ask.

Of course, Sophia has got all that in video too! About to post it on the gram actually, you’re very welcome.

“Hot chocolate first, or straight to the scrumptious cranberry sausage rolls?”

The excited tone in Harry’s voice is not lost in Sophia’s hearing despite their loud surroundings inside the Christmas market.

As expected, the Cheshire Christmas Market is filled with its usual Christmas magic, complete with bright lights in every wooden stand selling everything Christmas related. Families, couples, friends, or even single wanderers are talking merrily amongst each other, everyone basking in the delicious scents of every baking Christmas treat, a handful singing along to the non-stop Christmas tunes playing all around the market.

All Sophia can say is ‘Bloody hell, thank fuck I didn’t celebrate Christmas in Australia this year or I would have missed all these wonderful festivities. Screw my Harry Styles shaped pining heart and all that!’

But that’s not the answer to Harry’s question though.

“Bunny, hot chocolate first, of course. We can’t ruin our tradition, H.”

Harry giggles at the urgency in her tone, “Alright, my bad. Whatever you want, baby.” and then he winks at her, right hand extending towards Sophia with his palms up in invitation.

He just called her baby, winked at her, and now he’s giving her a free invitation to hold his warm hand?

So maybe Sophia should rethink her earlier statement of gladness that she wasn’t celebrating Christmas in Australia. This is one of those reasons why she even decided to celebrate Christmas alone in the first place. Harry Styles and his innately affectionate ways towards her is something she’ll easily get addicted to; always easy for her Cheshire boy.

Since it’s been established how soft she is for Harry, Sophia just bites her lip in an attempt to hide the grin trying to spread on her face and simply accepts Harry’s waiting hand as they close the gap between their fingers. Sophia’s smaller hand is enveloped tightly by that of Harry’s much bigger one, his tender touch never fails to anchor Sophia in the moment as the two of them make their way around the Christmas market, intertwined hands comfortably swinging in between them.

Winter is amazing because it means more excuses to get to cuddle an always sun-warm Harry. Christmas is amazing too because Harry and Sophia regain the child-like wonder they’ve lost whilst growing-up in the form of revisiting all the Christmas festivities they’ve enjoyed when they were seven.

But the most amazing thing is winter and Christmas in Cheshire.

Winter in Cheshire is cold enough that Harry makes it his own mission to always have an arm around Sophia, keeping her close to his side as they look around all the dazzling lights and jovially decorated stalls making sure her small frame is not lost in the crowds of eager people enjoying their own holiday.

Christmas in Cheshire is a festive time of the year where everyone else is busy enjoying time with their loved ones, that nobody even stops Harry Styles for a picture. No phone, camera or even wandering eyes pointed at every single thing he does.

Sophia loves Christmas in Cheshire.

She’s reminded of how much, as Harry and her finally found the stall who sells the best Christmas hot chocolate, the two of them falling in line eagerly.

“Large mug, or a small one?” Harry asks her when their turn was coming-up.

“Um,” Sophia thinks for a moment, eyes falling on the couple in front of them that had just received their order, “the big cup looks a bit much for me, but the small cup looks too little to be able to satisfy my hot chocolate craving.”

Harry chuckles, looking down at her with a knowing look, “So you’d end up just getting the big mug and make me finish whatever you can’t?”

Sophia smiles up at Harry brightly, she likes to think it’s bright enough that it competes with all the string of lights surrounding them as she expresses her gratitude in that glimmering beam of hers.

“I think I’d go with your idea. Aren’t you a smart one, bunny.”

Harry just chuckles at her, “Comes with experience, I think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I have enough experience with the ladies in my life who can’t finish the food and beverages they order so I finish it like the good son, brother, and best friend I am.”

It makes Sophia laugh, memories of Anne, Gemma, and her, all take turns to give their leftovers to Harry. Might it be on a holiday or a regular Sunday roast at the Twist’s residence, with Harry’s frown and unpleasant pout greeting them each time. It’s funny because Harry first acts like it’s offensive to him that they can’t finish the delicious dishes they have in front of them, only to gobble it all up so quickly like he just inhaled all of it. And then he seeks Sophia for cuddles because his now bloated tummy has made him feel quite poorly.

Just like her music choices, Sophia is also inclusive with whatever type of cuddles Harry is in the mood for.

She tells Harry exactly just that, receiving a smirking grin in return. “Sunflower, you better.”

Sophia scoffs, ready to berate his slightly entitled response. Except the Christmas Eve gods seem to be on her menace of a best friend’s side as the line for the hot chocolate had moved and it was now Harry’s turn to give their order.

Ultimately, Sophia forgets what she was even going to bite back, attention now enthralled by the steaming blue cups of hot chocolate on Harry’s massive hands. Sophia knew there was an actual purpose on why his hands are abnormally large: to carry both their hot chocolate as she waits on a wooden bench for him to sit beside her.

“Careful, baby. It’s really hot.” Harry gently warns her, cautiously handing the large cup in Sophia’s waiting hands. “Oh, here’s your candy cane.” he carefully drops one in her cup, the classic white and red striped holiday candy resting perfectly at the side of her mug.

“Thank you, bunny.” Sophia simply says, blowing on the very much wanted hot beverage on her cupped hands, enjoying the sweet smell of the drink as she wafts the steam it let out. The smart decision was to bring woolen gloves, but Sophia doesn’t think it goes well with her chosen outfit for today, nor will it allow her to use her phone in documenting this special day with Harry.

The two comfortably sipped on their own hot drinks, eyes and ears leisurely taking in their vivid surroundings, from the loud chattering and laughter of people, to the sparkling Christmas decorations in every corner of the market.

“So, what’s our game plan for today?” Sophia turns her body sideward to ask Harry.

Harry takes one last sip of his hot chocolate before replying, left hand individually counting his next words.

“Christmas special hot chocolate, check!” Sophia giggles around her warm cup at the way Harry even does a hand motion of a check sign before continuing his list, “Christmas shopping, have a much deserved break with the glorious cranberry sausage rolls, go to the ice rink, have a Christmas Eve dinner after, and then the massive tree lighting as our last activity.”

Sophia whistles, “Well don’t you got our day all planned out already, Mr. I-Can’t-Survive-Without-An-Itinerary-Thanks-To-My-Manager-Jeff Azoff.”

“Heyy..” Harry pouts, the melted white fluff of marshmallows on their sweet and creamy drink coating his lips, “I just like to be prepared and Jeff has nothing to do with my immaculate planning skills.”

“Alright,” Sophia concedes, naturally reaching out to thumb away the mess on Harry’s lips, “what are we going to shop for then? What stalls are we visiting?”

Her highly expectant tone makes Harry stick out his bottom lip even further, “Well I’m not that prepared, for heaven's sake. You have to ask Jeff to plan-out our Christmas Eve if you wanna be that specific, can’t answer your question, sunflower.”

Sophia giggles, wiping her own chocolate-stained lips from the little napkin that came with their drinks, “Then what general thing can you tell me about our shopping trip? We can’t just be roaming around without definite items in mind, that would take us the entire afternoon.”

Harry shrugs, holding his empty mug on his thigh, “All I know, is that we’re going to shop until we drop, literally. Like, we’re not going to stop shopping around kiosks until that bloody ball in Times Square drops.”

Sophia almost chokes on her drink in laughter, “What the fuck are you talking about?” Harry doesn’t offer her any response except for a smirk, his now free hands rubbing circles on Sophia’s back to soothe her startled state. “Bunny, we’re not in New York, and you're referencing a wrong holiday. The ball drops on New Years Eve, not Christmas.”

Sophia’s explanation is left on deaf ears, Harry shrugging his shoulders before letting out more shit.

“Whatever. All I know is that the Cheshire Christmas Market can ransack my wallet for whatever holiday themed item they bring to my face that may tickle my fancy. Have to get some use out of all the tips I got from my sold out stripper shows in Madison Square Garden at some point.”

“BUNNY!” Sophia screeches, eyes automatically widening as she looks around to see if anyone had been disturbed by her outburst while Harry does his honking laughter like the absolute menace that he is.

“You’re face!” Harry wheezes out, bending himself in half in total hilarity, “Fucking hell you’re face looked so fucking hilarious, I can’t!” and he continues to lose his breath in laughter despite Sophia rolling her eyes at his childish antics.

“You absolute shit!” Sophia says, amusement not hidden in her tone, pushing Harry’s still shaking shoulders just a bit because he deserves it, “Who wouldn’t be surprised and appalled at your casual tone while saying, sold out stripper shows at the MSG? There’s bloody children around you, H!”

Harry sits straight back up again, laughter have subsided to those of his dimpling cheeky smile, Sophia already having an inkling that whatever comes out next from his mouth will only be just as demented as his previous utterance.

“You saw my tits out for most shows, how can that not be near a stripper show?”

Sophia shakes her head, trying not to laugh at the continuous absurdity coming from Harry’s beaming face, “Bunny, I really can’t comprehend how you think sometimes.”

Harry’s response was quick, “I also can’t fathom why no one handed me some cash on any of my shows when I both had my tits out, and my fly open on some nights sunflower. That's just not fair on my part. I don’t feel appreciated enough, honestly.”

And Sophia truly has no idea what to say to that.

Has no idea how the two of them ended up from talking nonsense shit while sipping their hot chocolates on the bench, to buying absolutely unnecessary Christmas items like Harry had said earlier.

Sophia would blame that fact on Harry, a hundred percent with her index finger even pointing at him for emphasis.

The first few stalls they walked hand-in-hand to, had honestly been quite good and the items they purchased had some definite purpose for it. Harry had first walked her to a kiosk selling ugly Christmas sweaters and Sophia’s not just saying that to be discriminatory at the shop, it was really their branding and no one can tell her otherwise if they also see all the hideous looking knitted jumpers plastered in front of their stall for everyone to see.

Sophia never understood the tradition of wearing ugly Christmas sweaters for the holiday, always believed that you should look and feel the best in the most special time of the year. But she guesses, others like Harry who instantly asked the seller to fetch him the most garish out of all the jumpers, find some sense of enjoyment or jollification in partaking in this odd activity.

Sophia thinks she’d let Harry buy the two of them the worst from all the selections because her Christmas gift for him can compensate for the ugliness of the Christmas jumper. As for her, Sophia lives in dressing gowns every Christmas day (except Christmas dinner obviously, she has some sense of shame alright) so she thinks she’s good to go.

The next stall they visited was filled with varying scented candles in their own jars with their little aesthetically pleasing labels indicating what type of Christmas scent they are. Sophia and Harry had made a joined decision of buying a classic balsam and cedar scent, a sugar Christmas cookie scent, and one that’s labeled Christmas Eve because their noses had gotten clogged already from all the different fragrances that they just got that one for the sake of lighting it tonight once they got back to the bungalow. In Sophia’s smart opinion, they needed these scented candles to complete the Christmas ambiance in their current winter wonderland (still too-white) haven.

The next stalls they visited after that, Sophia can say that Harry and her have been complete idiots about even purchasing anything that’s remotely necessary. Though to remind you all, Sophia blames Harry on the next unfortunate shopping incident and takes no part in it all after realizing she can’t stop him from really emptying out his wallet.

The first piece was a tree topper in the shape of a star. Not just a star though, but a star tree topper made out of paper mache bananas.

Harry breathes and lives bananas so it was expected of him to gravitate towards the ridiculous item upon seeing it. What’s unfortunate really, is that the banana star was doused in glitters.

“Bunny, we’re not getting that. We already have a tree topper.”

“I’ll just take it off then. Do you see this masterpiece of a tree topper I’m holding?”

“Yes, it’s literally a star made out of paper mache bananas.”

“Now don’t give me that tone just because you don’t like the fruit. Honestly, I don’t even know why we’re still friends after I learned you hated bananas.”

“Excuse me? Are you seriously throwing away all the other amazing qualities of our friendship just for a bloody banana?”

“No..but I am for this glittery banana tree topper.”

See? Harry can’t be stopped after seeing something banana, and with glitters!

So when Harry picks up a doormat in the shape and design of a gingerbread house, Sophia just knows the rest of their shopping trip is only going downhill from there.

“I don’t think I have to tell you that we also have a doormat already. Didn’t we just use it before we left?”

“That’s outside the bungalow, this one is for the inside right after you enter the front door.”

“Then what did the bloody doormat outside the front door do then if the soles of the shoes still remained dirty needing ANOTHER doormat right after you just used one.”

“I don’t know, sunflower. I’m not a freaking doormat so I don’t know what their job entails. All I know is that the candies on this gingerbread house doormat is glittered so I’m getting it.”

The third item that Harry insanely purchases is a set of teaspoons with little gingerbread men, Christmas trees and stockings on top of the end of the spoon. It had no bananas in it, and no glitters, so it was only appropriate for Sophia to ask why he was getting it.

“I’m well aware that you already know that Anne has stocked us with some teaspoons in the kitchen, so I’m not going down that route. But those teaspoons have no bananas or glitters in them so why are you getting these nonsensical items this time, bunny?”

“Funny you say that, because this time we actually need some teaspoons in the bungalow to begin with.”

“No we don’t. Anne has her fine China set of cutleries, which includes teaspoons, that you gave her that one Christmas. Those are far more immaculate in quality than those you’re holding.”

“Well they’re also far more delicate than these babies I’m currently holding so it’s kind of no surprise that I bloody broke a few of them last night when I was trying to make myself a cuppa before heading to your bed.”

“Harry Edward Styles, you are dead to your own mother.”

And Sophia gladly reminded Harry in every teasing opportunity she got. Except that she didn’t think beforehand that it would actually work, and the next thing she knows, Harry is guilt-shopping while holding boxes of Christmas themed napkins.

“Bunny, I was just joking. I’m sure Anne wouldn’t mind that you broke some of her teaspoons.”

“Well that doesn’t help from making me feel better. So sunflower, just give me your opinion if I should get the napkins with different hot chocolate cups as its print, or the one with cats in adorable Santa hats.”

“Bunny, really I don’t th-”

“Baby! Please, just choose one? I promise it would make me feel not guilty anymore once you tell me your suggestion.”

“I mean.. Anne loves kittens so maybe the second option?”

“You’re absolutely correct, thanks for the valid input, sunflower. Now let’s head to the till and pay for this and then I’m going to look for an expensive tea set that can go with these napkins that will for sure make my mum forgive me.”

If there was no stopping Harry in the beginning, Sophia just shook her head in incredulity as she watched her best friend pay for the most expensive Mrs. Clause themed tea set she has ever seen. I mean seriously, the Mrs. Clause teapot made her look like a bloated balloon with her head as the lid of the pot, and her entire body as the body of the teapot. The worst feature for sure is that they made her nose as the spout of the pot. Who has a nose that long? And you can’t say Pinocchio either like what Harry answered when Sophia asked.

It was honestly just an unattractive tea set in all regards, Sophia doesn’t think Harry’s purchases can get anymore ridiculous than that.

Or so she thought.

The last ‘significant’ out of all the nonsensical rubbish Christmas items that Harry got, is a large box containing a dozen elves, a dozen gnomes, all wearing Christmas themed jumpers and comfy looking trousers. Some of them even hold gifts, cups of cocoa, a Christmas stocking, and Harry’s favorite: an elf holding a plate of a full Christmas roast.

“Now this is simply just your worst purchase of the day, bunny. I’m going to save my own sanity by not asking why you’re getting this..this..abomination of eerie Christmas rubbish.”

“Sunflower, don’t go calling them eerie, they’re beautiful.”

“Since when did the faces of elves and gnomes were classified beautiful?”

“Baby, it’s all about ‘unconventional beauty’, in my opinion. Regardless of that, I think they’d look perfect in my Christmas village set at the bungalow.”

“What? So that’s what this is for?”

“Yes. My Christmas village needs some sort of life in them, sunflower. That white Christmas ambiance of my miniature Christmas village can’t be wasted.”

“So you thought of buying a dozen each of elves and gnomes that can play the part?”

“Yup, precisely! Aren’t I clever?”

“The fuck?!”

What was Sophia thinking, really?

Regardless if she asks or not, her sanity will still not be in good shape when it comes to the wild character and immensely odd choices of her best friend.

The girl needs a break is what it is, and she’s hearing the cranberry sausage rolls calling her name even from far away.

There’s no way she can continue shopping with Harry, much less waiting for the ball to drop on New Year's Eve like the latter crazy boy had wished for.

Holiday peep! 😳 🎄🎁

HES - Bunny Shots

*** Stand-alone stories about Bunny and Sunflower set in no particular universe or timeline. These shots are not connected nor follow the same plot-line, unless specified.***

Happy reading, lovelies! 🌻

Grammy Bunny (post-Grammy party for the bunny.) Bunny's Love On Tour, Literally (before, during, and after Vegas.) Bunny and the Pearl Choker (the adventure of wanting to be the best boyfriend for Sunflower's 21st.) Bunny in Amalfi (Bunny just popped the question; engagement-moon shenanigans ensues.) Honey Bunny (For his every creation, one muse it behind it all. ABO au.) *on-going* "Yes please, Bunny." (Appreciation post for Bunny's Pleasing, with an addition of a curly bubby.) "Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." (Best friends to lovers Christmas fic. featuring the best JB song of all time: Mistletoe.) *COMING THIS DECEMBER*

Honey Bunny - Part II

Story Masterpost for the other chapters

*~*~*

He just has to make her another dress, there’s no way he just can’t.

This new predicament that Harry has found himself into, is not actually as surprising and alarming as it was before. This time around, he doesn’t feel like a creep making some stranger omega a magnificent dress, he’s privileged enough now to call said omega as his best friend.

Said best friend omega has just sent him a picture of her chosen party dress that’s got Harry almost combusting on his seat to a disarray of rainbow glitters with little pink hearts scattered along with it for how splendid she looks.

You see, it’s Sophia’s 24th birthday party today, one that the sweet girl didn’t want to do in the first place. Just a week after their first month as friends, Harry met one of Sophia’s other close friends, Sarah, a beta who he instantly clicked with having learned that she was planning a little humble party with all of Sophia’s close group of friends and her family in the omega’s home.

At first, Harry was a slight mess after hearing that it was his best friend’s birthday in a few days time and seemed like Sophia had no plans of telling him about such an important detail if not for Sarah visiting the bakery that fateful day. Being used to his stubborn tendencies, the sweet omega had it all in control as she expertly turned Harry’s indignant ignoring actions and jutted bottom lip with squinted eyes clouded with slight annoyance, into nothing but cherry blossom tinted cheeks, sweet dimpled smile, and dreamy glazed eyes.

In Harry’s opinion, his little stubborn act was not done out of sheer nothing, it actually resulted to getting Sophia’s big juicy ‘yes’ after being probably fed-up with the alpha’s unrelenting saddened puppy dog eyes and bottom lip protruding further and further every time Sophia kindly waves off Sarah’s plans. Obviously, Harry supports whatever Sarah’s plans are for the omega’s birthday, he doesn’t think he can deny such an opportunity to help someone celebrate the precious sweetest creature on earth.

Harry tried to hide the smug grin that wanted to escape his flushed cheeks, feeling the narrowed eyes Sophia was throwing his way while she finished serving some of her customers before joining Sarah and him in his corner nook. The alpha and the beta already started planning bits of the omega’s mini party, Sophia giving them a roll of her eyes upon hearing the two’s plan of hiring a catering company for the food since they didn’t want her to slave-away in the kitchen on her special day.

“I love to bake,” Sophia said in protest, “I can totally make food for my own party without any complaints.”

Harry shook his head in disagreement just as Sarah answered in a smirk, “You might not be complaining, but I’m pretty sure, Harry over here will be complaining if you even try to open the door for your guests. Soph, you’re kind of the guest of honor, you should be sitting pretty at the head of the table in your garden where Harry and I will get people to set-up a whimsical garden picnic.”

“Amen to that!” Harry exclaimed in exuberation, raising his palm up for Sarah to high-five which the beta accepted in laughter while Sophia once again, rolled her eyes at their utter enjoyment of placing her in such a valued position.

“That’s ridiculous,” Sophia said in rebuttal, “You can’t expect me not to offer any single ounce of help when it’s going to be done at my own home. That’s kind of disrespectful.”

“What’s ridiculous, and disrespectful,” Harry noted in amusement as Sophia’s face looked as if she already knows whatever is going to come out of his mouth will be no help to her situation, “is that you even thought for a second that I will let you lift a single finger to help anyone for your party. What kind of alpha do you think I am?”

Sophia huffed, bangs swayed sideways from the air, “An insufferable alpha if you believe that I’m some sort of a traditional and spoiled omega who needs everything done and handed to her. My parents didn’t raise me like that, I’m afraid.”

“Sunflower,” Harry cooed, his ringed fingers reached to capture her dainty hands to fill the gaps between their hold, “Of course I know you’re not like that, and I can even attest that Fiona and John had done a magnificent job in raising you to be such a kind and hardworking woman. However, I’ve also learned after meeting your parents, that they will surely want their little princess to not do anything strenuous at her party. I’m sorry sunflower, but I think they’ll be on my side with this argument.”

Sarah was in an uncontrollable fits of laughter after Harry finished his point. The alpha tried to control his own when Sophia squeezed their clasped hands tightly, blue eyes narrowed even further as she attempted to destroy his resolve with her absolutely non-threatening disgruntled kitten face. To be honest, Tilly can do a much better job at threatening Harry, the cat already does on a regular basis.

“Why do you have to be so amiable?” Sophia pouted when she realized her ‘menacing’ staring at Harry is not working at all, the alpha just giggled at her attempts, “Mum and dad positively loved you, I’m kinda scared all my friends will react the same way. I guess I’ll just go to Anne’s place once you charm all of them to your side and against me. At least I know Anne will let me help her make her basque cheesecake plus, I can even get all your three slices.”

Harry should have felt offended at the blatant dig at his ravenous appetite, but he couldn’t for the life of him if Sophia had just talked about his mother in such a comfortable nature. It’s like going to his mum’s house is no longer a novelty to her, that she even feels safe to go there by herself without any invite from his mum or his company.

Meeting the parents had gone smoothly, if it was not clear yet from the way the alpha and omega are freely talking about their respective family members. The experience was so effortlessly easy and comfortable in all regards that it solidified Harry’s determination in officially asking Sophia if he can court her to be his mate, potentially some time after her party.

John and Fiona are both alphas, and Harry had learned that the only thing they love more than their bees is their only daughter. Harry smiled every time they had called Sophia their ‘little princess’ when they welcomed the both of them in their home, expressing how exciting it is that it’s the first time ‘their little princess’ had brought someone home for them to meet.

“Mum!” Sophia whined with her cheeks now flushed, the three alphas chuckled at her flustered state, “I told you I brought Harry with me today because he wants to learn more about our bee business with a first hand experience. He’s not here today for the two of you to interrogate like he’s my alpha or something.”

Harry tried not to preen at her utterance of ‘my alpha’ even if it’s not in the way he specifically wants her to mean it, John only laughed loudly while Fiona reached to pinch her daughter’s cheek.

“Nobody’s interrogating anybody, princess,” Fiona replied, “I don’t think it’s our fault that you’re getting shy because you just brought your crush home to meet your parents.”

“Mum! He’s not my crush either!” Sophia whined once again, totally avoiding Harry’s smirking face while her parents continued to laugh at her cute reaction. Harry could not fault them on that end since Sophia was doing her adorable head tilt with her pearl embellished sneakers pointed inwards.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fiona said in a familiar sweet tone of a giggle, “so does that mean I can introduce your friend here, to our new bee farm help? Matilda is a fabulous omega, very caring and attentive which I’m sure you’re looking for in a partner, love.”

Fiona clutched a motherly hand on Harry’s forearm while she led them to the kitchen, teasing mischief glistening in her comforting blue eyes. She winked at him just at the same time Harry felt Sophia’s grounding hold on his other wrist, dainty hands gripped tightly on his skin clearly seeking for his attention which Harry gladly gave her.

The omega’s eyes were pierced at her mother’s similar blue toned wonder, she moved closer to Harry’s side by plastering herself to his side frame with her cheeks squished on his hefty alpha biceps by the time they took residence at her family’s home kitchen.

“I don’t think Harry will appreciate that, mum. Thanks though.” Sophia boldly said to her mother which made all three alphas in the room perk-up in interest.

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make, little princess. Being friends does not give you the right to make choices for them, your father and I taught you that.” Fiona replied with her teasing tone not heard by her daughter as the latter only continued her unpleasant stare at her mother.

“I know,” Sophia huffed, “but as Harry’s best friend, I know that he’s not looking for any partner or something like that right now.”

Harry giggled when he took turns looking at Sophia's narrowed eyes pointed at him as if telepathically saying that he better agree with her or else is left at the tip of her threatening stare, and at the omega’s lovely mother that is trying to assess if he would play along in teasing her daughter like some sort of alpha testing another alpha if they’re as badly hooked to her omega daughter like said daughter is failing to conceal with her clear actions of jealousy.

Unfortunately, Harry is a self-proclaimed sap that has wholeheartedly accepted the fact that he’s fucking whipped for their little princess omega daughter.

“Sorry, Fiona.” Harry smiled in defeat at the smug face of Sophia’s parents, “Sophia’s on point with me not wanting to meet anyone really. Also, I’m not very keen with the name Matilda to be honest.”

Harry instantly noticed that Sophia had finally graced them with her dimpled smile, keening a little bit more on his side from his words of compliance.

“Why’s that?” John joined the conversation in curiosity, eyes looking at her daughter that’s currently rubbing her cheeks in the soft material of Harr’s silk shirt.

“Well your daughter’s cat child is named Tilly, and I don’t think I can date a Matilda and their nickname is Tilly without me fearing for my life as flashes of that devious grey furrball will always pop into my head everytime I hear that name.”

“How about the name Sophia? You think you can date someone with that name?” John’s cheeky question made everyone stop their laughter after Harry had shared fear for anyone named Matilda or Tilly.

“Dad!” Sophia gasped in a voice of betrayal, “Not you too!”

“What? I’m just asking a normal question to try to get to know your new friend, little princess.” John waved off, instructing all of them to take a seat on their dining table as his wife and him arranged some food for them.

“I think my schedule can be arranged for that,” Harry replied in confidence as he helped Sophia on her seat like the usual, “I’m quite partial with omegas named Sophia to be honest.”

“Well you better be referring to my daughter or I might intentionally let the bees sting you later.” Fiona warned her fellow alpha as she and John took a seat at the table together with Harry and Sophia. The latter whined in protest once again for her parent’s ‘unkind actions’ even if they all knew there was no real heat in any of the things her parents have told Harry.

Harry just gazed in amusement like a total idiot at the way Sophia began to tell her parents to stop bothering him, his hand instinctively placed itself on her thigh, the action not missed by the eyes of the omega’s parents. Harry couldn’t find it in himself to be bashful for his blatant affectionate touches especially with what came next from his mouth.

“I would let the bees sting me myself if I was referring to another Sophia that is not as sweet and caring as your daughter. I don’t think I'm an alpha fool to not realize and appreciate your daughter’s one of a kind amazing nature, I’d actually like to say my deepest gratitude for the two of you for raising her that way.”

It was absolutely the right thing to say, Harry believes, as the day at Sophia’s family bee farm only progressed in a similar easy and joyous light. It became clear to him how being raised by both alphas certainly allowed Sophia to develop her kind and inclusive perspective in life. It definitely instilled in her that the traditional role of omegas as caregivers and homemakers is not all that she can be in life, and Harry can definitely see this from the way Fiona and John were not doing every single thing for her unlike the parents of his previous entitled omega classmates in fashion university. It even made Harry laugh when Sophia’s pouting did not work when she was too lazy to fetch the two of them’s beekeeper protective gear.

“We might call her princess, but she definitely isn’t treated like one in all regards,” Fiona told Harry as they watched Sophia begrudgingly walk to one of the farm sheds to finally get the necessities for their bee-related activities.

“Not sure how I can treat her in a less than royalty fashion when she deserves the world,” Harry honestly replied, cheeks flushing just a little bit at the knowing gaze the omega’s mother gave him, “plus, how can you resist that adorable pout, Fiona? That’s just impossible to not fall for!”

Fiona laughed in a similar high-pitched melodious tone that Harry loves to hear from Sophia, the sound making him smile at the resemblance.

“I’m not sure I can help you with that, love,” Fiona answered with a gentle smile this time, “I think you’re gone for her in a totally different way that John and I are.”

And Harry can’t even agree more at the truth of Fiona’s statement.

Harry is so gone for Sophia that he trusted her to help him wear the beekeeper protective gear even if she wasn’t the best at it, had religiously listened to every single bit she whispered on his ear about the bees and proper bee keeping and harvesting even if John was the more competent one, speaking just a few feet away while demonstrating to him what he should do, and Harry had ultimately given Sophia one of his jars of honey that he has harvested himself just to show the omega a glimpse of his provider qualities even if he knows he could have finished that little jar in a day.

So Harry might not have left Sophia’s childhood home with the abundant knowledge that could allow him to start and cultivate his own bee farm, nor the answer on how to resist her almighty pout, but Harry did leave with full permission and blessing from both alphas to court their daughter, something that respectable alphas should ask for when wanting to court someone. Fiona had almost cried in tears of joy, saying her surprise that Harry was one of the rare ones nowadays that still valued and exemplified such a high form of respect.

Harry is not one that will jeopardize his chances with a gem of a person like that of Sophia, to the point where he had warned his mother to not even try interrogating the only person he’s going to bring home. She can embarrass him all she wants, but not even his mother will be allowed to tease the easily flustered Sophia.

Unlike Harry’s encounter with Sophia’s parents, the omega didn’t actually invite herself to his childhood home, the invite came directly from his mother after Anne had finally coaxed her identity out of Harry. His mother had been quite suspicious about his whereabouts after he stopped dropping by her home to get and ask more of her cooking like he had done the first few weeks he arrived back in Cheshire.

Harry didn’t really know how to tell his own sensitive omega mother that he had basically found another sweet and caring omega that feeds him and cares for him almost just the same as she does without unintentionally hurting her feelings in some ways. Anne would always be his mother, but he has yet to introduce anyone to her that has the potential of sharing a good amount of his heart that only Anne had previously dominated. He's never had any serious relationship ever, so he’s unsure of how his mum would react to such drastic changes.

Evidently, Harry had stressed and feared for nothing.

With a plate of his favorite cheesecake, Anne had successfully lured Harry away from the bakery and into her home kitchen despite the alpha’s apparent reluctance of leaving the cottage bakery early. Said reluctance was considerably lessened after arriving at his mother’s quaint home smelling the mouth watering aromas of the freshly baked basqued cheesecake.

He didn’t even think his mother would straight away ask him about his sudden change in routine, having only come back to her place twice after finding his inspiration for the new Sweet Creature collection, which he also provided minimal information about. Anne was not very confrontational of an omega, and it was apparent in the way she tried to conceal her suspicious looks when Harry had announced that he would only be having a singular slice of her cheesecake. That’s a right surprise right there, Harry knows, but what really turned it up a notch to possible crime territory, is the moment Harry reached for her mother’s cupboards to fetch a bottle of honey and drizzled a good amount of it on his singular heavenly slice.

The shock was no longer controlled by Anne, “Harry Edward, what are you doing?!”

He was mid-chew when he realized the reason why his mother had stopped her actions and kept her attention at him in total surprise.

“Why did you put honey on your cheesecake?” Anne asked when Harry had remained lost of words, “You never put anything on my basque cheesecake because you love it just that way it is. You said my love for you was already the ‘cherry on top’ of my cheesecake. Do you not like it anymore? Did I do something wrong to this batch?”

This is why Harry was having second thoughts of mentioning Sophia to his mother. Anne was quite sensitive and just like his best friend, they would somehow find a way to make themselves feel bad like they’re the ones who did something wrong to cause such a change. But no one’s in the wrong, Harry has just fallen for an omega is the thing, and is apparently really rubbish at sharing this wonderful information to his dear mother.

Out of panic, Harry almost chokes on his mouthful of cheesecake trying to extinguish whatever negative thoughts his lovely mother was thinking. “Mum you didn’t do anything wrong, I promise! It’s just that I’ve been spending a lot of my time in the bakery of my new friend and all she sells are honey infused or flavored dishes so my palette has quite adjusted to consistently looking for some honey.”

Anne’s worried expression changed to that of curiosity, “New friend? She?”

Harry stuffed his face with another forkful of cheesecake in the hopes of stalling the conversation and biting back a groan because of course, Harry might have never had a serious relationship but every time he mentions meeting someone new, Anne would certainly try to make a big deal out of it, essentially wanting to play the role of being matchmaker. Which is what she was most likely doing at that time as Harry watched her mother think to herself, smile widening as she connects the dots of her son’s sudden missing acts and lack of attentive communication in the previous weeks.

“Are you going to tell me who she really is or do I have to find this honey bakery myself and ask her why she’s keeping my son captive and has changed his palette away from his dear mother’s amazing cooking?”

“Mum!” Harry couldn’t help but finally exclaim, which earned a cackle from his mother who definitely wanted that exact reaction, “You can’t just do that, you’re going to overwhelm her! Besides, she’s the sweetest and kindest omega to exist ever on this earth, it’s a real blasphemy that you even think she’s holding me captive. I might actually be the one who’s holding her captive because of my want to always monopolize her attention.”

That was Harry being a mess of a rambler when panicked, mind to mouth filter completely forgotten which at times, Anne would be scolding him about. But as of that moment, it did nothing but spread an elated and intrigued aura around her mother.

And with an air of finality, Anne clapped her hands loudly in the far too silent kitchen with Harry’s heavy breathing of nerves the only thing permeating the place.

“That’s settled then, you’re bringing this kind and sweet omega of yours to my home this weekend and don’t even start with your excuses, young man,” and yes, Anne was pointing a knowing finger directly at him meaning that it’s serious business, “just tell her that I’m inviting her for afternoon tea and maybe if she’s willing, I’d love to teach her how to make my honey soap bars since according to you she adores honey so much.”

Who was Harry to deny his mothers wishes (demands)?

Having not received any negative reaction from Anne about the prospect of Harry bringing his omega home, which he can’t find it in himself to correct his mother when it feels like angels are singing down on him every time he’s being called Sophia’s alpha, Harry was not plagued by any kind of negative emotion or even nerves the day of said visit.

Sophia on the other hand, was visibly containing a bit of nervous energy, dainty hands reaching to pull down the sleeves of her cardigan every once in a while to create adorable sweater paws. It was a nervous tell that Harry had picked up on, offering his own ringed fingers for her to take while on the drive to his mothers house. The omega had not pulled out of his hold even as Anne had lovingly welcomed them to her house, his mother’s comforting presence and that innate consoling aura that omegas share, most definitely helped Sophia break out of her timid shell a bit more.

Sooner rather than later, both omegas were gushing over Harry’s old baby pictures that his mother had willingly brought with her when Sophia had endearingly remembered said existing photos of baby alpha Harry frowning and pouting because the attention of his mother was not on him. Unlike that foolish baby alpha posing for pictures in only his bloody diapers (like seriously, what was that baby thinking?) Harry didn’t find himself frowning at the lack of attention Sophia and Anne gave him. He’s surprisingly content just nursing his cuppa while listening to the two most important omegas in his life wax lyrical phrases about how adorable he looked as a young child with mashed bananas all over himself.

“When you said you loved bananas, I didn’t think you loved it this much, bunny.” Sophia giggled, fingers caressing the pudge of baby Harry’s stomach on the photo

“Oh sweetheart, it’s not just bananas he loved,” Anne chuckled, shifting in her seat to collect another photo album to place between Sophia and her on the table, opening it to a specific page, “Baby Harry was absolutely crazy for strawberries too!”

Sophia gasps in utter shock, hands covering her mouth in laughter, “Oh my god! Bunny, what were you doing?!”

Harry didn’t even need to bend over and look at the photo album where a particular photo of him was currently being observed by Sophia. He felt his cheeks flushed while Sophia continued her laughter and his mother absolutely basked in the embarrassed reaction that finally hit her son.

“Mum,” Harry said, trying to sound calm, “what did I say about not scaring Sophia away? You think showing her an arsed naked baby me, covered only in strawberry juices will not make her go running for the hills? I look like a bloody git there, mum!”

His dramatics never failed to make anyone laugh, Anne being the perfect example as she waved a hand in dismissal at his accusations, “Oh please, I couldn’t just not bring this out and make this lovely girl here think that you’re anything but a crazy mess of an alpha that needs someone like her sweet nature to put some propper wits on you. And besides, you only have yourself to blame for being such a shameless baby posing in the nude.”

You hear Harry complaining after that? Because Harry did not bloody complain after that honesty dripping words from his mother. Give it to Anne for having the ability to make him sound like a foolish excuse of an alpha while at the same time emphasizing the necessity of having the omega in his life to help him move past said foolish tendencies. Harry is quite lost on what kind of wing-womaning his mother was trying to achieve back there.

Thankfully, everything just went as smooth sailing as it did when Harry had visited Sophia’s childhood home. Except this time around, Harry didn’t even try whispering words of knowledge to the omega’s ear when the two ladies threatened to hit him with their wooden spoon when he acted like he knew the tedious process of soap making. With his arms raised up in surrender, Harry made himself useful by doing the cleaning once they were waiting for the honey soaps to set, while Sophia and Anne started talking about baking recipes and exchanging the anti inflammatory and antioxidant information about honey, his face breaking into a smile hearing them make plans of spending another afternoon together to explore the realm of honey in skincare.

What made the alpha sputter out a laugh of disbelief is the moment they made it clear he was not invited for such future plans.

“Are you two excluding me from this activity you’re planning?” Harry asked, foaming soapy hands the least of his concern as he waited for some explanation in the smirking face of his mother, and the rather sheepish looking Sophia. At least the sweet omega had some audacity to feel slightly bad at not including him in their plans, Harry’s devious (however lovely she may be) mother was not at all showing any trace of guilt, she even rolled her green eyes at him.

“Harry, I love you my son,” Anne responded, Harry already knew the next bit she was going to say, “but, I don’t think Soph and I can take your clumsy self being injured with these new ingredients and organic chemicals will be bringing for our skincare making experiments.”

“Excuse me? I’m no longer that clumsy baby alpha that tripped over my gazillion stuffed frogs like the picture you two were gushing about earlier.” Harry pointed out in confidence, “I can certainly hold my own ground and tend to whatever troubling matters that may occur to me.”

“We know you can bunny,” Sophia softly replied in a soothing tone, “What Anne and I were implying is that we, as in your mother and I, are the ones who can’t take it when you get injured. We just might panic and cry for your safety and do nothing productive after that. Do you want two distressed omegas fussing over you?”

Harry might love attention as the alpha in him is naturally inclined to, but hearing the word ‘distressed’ in relation to the two most significant omegas in his life, somewhat rewrites his own biology if it means that no attention on him will keep his girls safe.

So Harry didn’t fight once again, realizing soon after that it was the best action when Anne had hugged him goodbye in her tight embrace as she swayed the both of them in place for a few moments, whispering her high appreciation for Sophia and the absolute truth that he would not hear the end of it from her if he fucks up this budding relationship they were cultivating together. When your sweet mother swears at you, it’s a definite urgent matter.

Though it’s not a threat in Harry’s opinion, seeing his mother offer the same affection to his future omega (yes, he’s saying it out to the universe to manifest it) as she moves them back and forth in her solid hug, just makes the alpha more motivated to really pursue this one of a kind woman to be a permanent fixture in his life in the way he really wants her to be.

It’s really not a shock that Harry’s now losing his goddamn mind as he takes another look at the picture Sophia had sent of her party outfit. It was a mirror selfie that shows the baby pink, v-neck halter mini dress that the omega had ordered online and had denied Harry to take any peek at with the whining protests that being a fashion designer, he might judge her fashion choices.

Why she thought that, Harry cannot comprehend for the life of him. She’s fucking glistening in her natural beauty not only due to the fact that the dress was cinched with a sparkling rhinestoned belt, but ultimately at the sole fact that she can wear anything and Harry will still be floored at her beauty.

So he decides to send her a message with just that thought, because best believe, he will not be able to make it to her house for the party if he keeps getting distracted by her perfection; Harry has to say something to her before he really blows up from his awed feelings.

To: Honeyed 🌻: “Sunflower, you really better not be offering your help to anyone when you look like a bloody royalty in that dress; I might feel like a lowly peasant beside you now.”

From: Honeyed 🌻: “Well, are you wearing my favorite buttoned-up silk shirts and your rainbow Gucci booties? 🤔”

To: Honeyed 🌻: “Can never deny your wishes, love, especially on your special day. Of course I’m wearing them. I ordered a silk shirt that resembled the ocean blue of your eyes as well 😎”

From: Honeyed 🌻: “Really?! 😲 Then you’re absolutely bonkers if you think you won’t look as amazing as you usually are, bunny. How many times do I have to tell you that your chocolate curly locks are enough to make you look like a dreamy, pretty prince? You’re kind of silly for not seeing how pretty you are when you look at the mirror everyday 🤭”

To: Honeyed 🌻: “Silly enough that I would need as much verbal confirmation from you later with how prince-like and pretty I look? 😇”

From: Honeyed 🌻: “I guess. Be thankful it’s my birthday and I’m feeling appreciative of people today, and that you’re really pretty and I want to 🐰 🤏 so much! So please hurry up and drive safely already!”

It might have taken a while for Harry to understand her last message, but when he did, the alpha makes a quick trip back to his house to get a travel size bottle of his face moisturizer. If Sophia wants to pinch his cheeks to her heart's content later on, then Harry would want her to have the best time ever by giving her plump and freshly hydrated skin to pinch on.

*~*~*

It’s not the first time that Harry has ever seen Sophia’s house. He had the opportunity to walk the omega home quite a few times already, during the days where she’s closing the bakery and Harry will just not allow her to walk home alone in the dark and dangerous streets at that late hour. Granted that the country roads of Cheshire might not be prone to such grim incidents, the alpha will stand by his resolve to not risk Sophia’s safety in any way especially when he has some sense of control to help prevent anything that may occur.

As Harry’s pulling up Sophia’s residence, he’s struck once again how her wooden home is much more of a resemblance to an actual magical cottage than her bakery, which Harry already thought was the epitome of fairy land. Clearly he’s mistaken, and the point only becomes more highlighted when Harry enters her home and is instantly greeted by the warm ambiance of her dominantly brown toned interior.

Unlike her cottage bakery, Sophia’s cottage home is showcasing different hues of browns from light, to neutral, and to warm chocolate ones. Though Harry notes in interest that similar to the bakery, Sophia still has to add a bunch of pops of pastel colors sprinkled around her home, a vital embodiment of the omega in the comfort of her space.

Said pops of pastel colors is what greets the alpha upon his arrival.

“Harry, love! Good to have you here already!” Fiona appears all of a sudden, holding a pastel pink tray on one hand containing some crackers and tiny jars of jam, and a pastel blue pitcher on the other hand as she greets Harry with air kisses since both of her hands are currently preoccupied.

“It’s nice to see you too, Fiona,” Harry greets the alpha, quickly coming by her side to offer his assistance, “let me help you with that.”

Before Fiona could even protest, Harry has already found a grip on the pitcher. Fiona shakes her head at him with a tilt of amusement in her lips, while Harry motions with his hands for her to lead the way because he does not know where these amenities must be placed.

“I swear,” Harry hears Fiona softly murmur to him as they walk outside to Sophia’s vast garden, Harry instantly hearing the chatter from the party’s guests that have already culminated outside,“if you start acting this gentlemanly for the entirety of the day, my daughter would be dead spoiled.”

Harry tries to keep the snort trying to escape him, “Whatever do you mean, love? I’m not spoiling anyone.”

“Why don’t you say that to me again after you’ve taken a look at the table there,” Fiona motions her head from the other direction where Harry is currently facing behind from, “and then I might believe you. Now give me that pitcher and mingle with Soph and her friends, not just my daughter!”

Harry laughs at the evident assumptions of Fiona. Obviously, the mother of the omega he fancies, can easily read the way he plans to spoil Sophia with whatever she wants and needs of him, and to talk to only her mainly. I mean, the latter can be arranged in Harry’s opinion. If he’s really serious with courting her after this celebration (which he is, so don’t even start questioning him or he might bite), the most wise decision is to get to know the other people in Sophia’s life.

Before Harry can even think on how to approach Sophia’s friends and introduce himself without ultimately letting out his possessive tendencies over the omega, and scaring them away by making his intentions very clear that as a future suitor of the birthday girl, they better have their shit together and don’t do anything fucking unkind to Sophia or they will ultimately answer to him, Harry seems to be the one answering now to an impatient looking Tilly who’s found comfort on standing by his feet with narrowed beady blue eyes pointed at him.

“Well hello there, Tilly,” Harry greets the cat, bending down a little to offer the grumpy looking cat with one gentle head rub. Only one though, or scratches will be unleashed and Harry doesn’t really want to jeopardize whatever progress they’re making here.

“Why are you looking at me with a frown?” Harry questions the gray cat, “I haven’t even done anything yet, I’ve just arrived here. I thought we’re way past being angry with my presence alone.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as Tilly answered with an annoyed meow, swiftly hitting her tail on Harry’s ankle which is something not foreign to the alpha as the cat always does that whenever she’s somehow annoyed with him, so that’s basically all the time.

A frowning Harry was ready to have a little talk with this little over dramatic cat, when said cat becomes the total diva that she is by huffing another annoyed cat sound at him before turning her back, a definite sign that Harry should be following her with the ‘or else’ cat noise being left unsaid.

Doing so actually removes any signs of Harry’s annoyance with Tilly, the scene that greets him makes Harry want to shake Fiona’s shoulder earlier for not telling him what he’s been greatly missing by keeping his back to that side of the garden.

Sophia, the sweet baker of an omega, is fucking shining in person like some holy being. The picture she had sent Harry earlier does not give complete justice to the enchanting goddess that she is, sitting just a few feet away from him.

The alpha is relieved that the birthday girl seemed to take his words in a serious note. Harry observes the way Sophia is sitting pretty at one of the sitting areas scattered across the garden, seeing her smile and giggle with her friends that are fawning around her like the total birthday royalty that she should be treated. Harry also notes the fact that no one is sitting beside her despite the long velvet couch she’s currently sitting on. Again, he doesn’t want to act all possessive in front of her friends, but it’s kind of difficult to suppress his innate feelings when it’s quite clear that just watching Sophia sitting by herself like she purposefully didn’t want anyone near her, is simply bringing out the most core alpha characteristics in Harry.

As if sensing Harry’s lingering gaze specifically stuck on her, Sophia’s ocean blue eyes suddenly caught his unrelenting stare. Harry can’t help but smirk at the way her glossed baby pink lips fall open in a little gasp, her focused blue orbs quickly scanning the entirety of Harry’s look.

The alpha was planning to actually start walking to where Sophia is, since he can’t be left standing in the middle of the garden like a total idiot, while her friends have caught-on to what the birthday girl was currently and unabashedly dreamily gawking at. However, Sophia suddenly takes it upon herself to determinedly skip her way to where Harry is standing, making him laugh at the sheer excitement radiating out of the omega as she steps on her tippy toes to wrap her arms around Harry’s neck in a tight embrace.

“Whoa,” Harry chuckles, steadying the two of them by bending a little while returning Sophia’s hold around her body, “what a welcome from the birthday girl herself, how lucky can I get?”

Sophia giggles directly in his ear, “Much more if you greet me first.”

Harry breathes in her sweet scent, nosing at her dimpled cheek, “I guess I have no choice but to greet you a happy birthday, sunflower.”

“Bunny, don’t say it like you’re being forced too!” Sophia removes her head from his shoulder, to look at the alpha with a pout that does not suggest any real annoyance at him.

Harry’s face scrunches in that smile she proclaimed to be her favorite, pulling her back in their tight hug with Sophia’s face cutely squished on his warm filled with fond chest, lips brushing across her earlobe in a soft whisper.

“I was just messing with you.” Harry admits, “My sunflower, happy birthday.” and because her sweet pheromones have been drowning his senses ever since the omega had taken notice of him, and because her skin is practically already there, Harry puckers his lips and leaves a sound kiss directly on Sophia’s ear.

Sophia’s reaction was fast, going considerably plaiant in the alpha’s hold with her scent only increasing to a much sweeter note indicating the pleasing feeling the little kiss had given her.

“Thank you, bunny. My birthday is already special because you’re here already.”

Harry chuckles at that, feeling pride swim over his insides at the tone of sincerity in the omega’s statement, “That’s good to hear, love, so sweet of you like usual. But I don’t think your friends would specifically appreciate that when I’m practically hogging all of the birthday girl's time.”

And it’s quite true, their whole interaction is not lost from the prying eyes of the limited guests Sophia’s intimate party had invited. Just from their position, Harry can see the curious glances of the group of individuals Sophia was talking to earlier. The same look of surprise and ill-concealed interest is very apparent in their features just like that of Georgie and Sabrina back in the bakery when they had first seen Harry interact with their boss.

Harry’s utterance causes Sophia to perk up in his arms, the excitement in her veins when she had first locked him in a tight hug was back, a look of determination swimming in her blue orbs as she pulls away from their hug to hold his hand instead beside him.

“Oh yes, I need to introduce you to my friends, thanks for reminding me, bunny.” and she ends it by bringing their interlaced hand up to her glossy lips to drop a sweet kiss on the back of his hand.

And then she was diligently walking the two of them together to the seating area she was once at, like a girl on a serious mission because introducing Harry to her friends apparently warrants the same treatment.

Harry tries not to feel smug at the way Sophia introduced him as, ‘This is my Harry, my bestest friend ever.’ and the way she had called for him in a pout, ‘Bunny, what are you doing? Sit beside me, please.’ Harry was being polite and respecting her space when introductions were completed and was about to take a seat beside Georgie, thinking Sophia wanted to sit by herself on the long couch.

But that was apparently the wrong thing to do, so Harry allows Sophia to guide him on how close she wants the alpha to sit beside her. Which shouldn't be a surprise that the omega didn’t leave any sliver of space between them, boldly placing his ringed hand on the top of her bare thigh with both her dainty ones contentedly resting on top of his.

Harry can really feel the stares of Sophia’s friends which from his first impression, seemed friendly enough with no real signs of threat or malice in them. Though Harry might be mistaken because Tilly, the self-appointed guard cat who takes her job very seriously, began to hiss violently with her stance signalling ready to attack and claws unmistakably popping out, when one of Sophia’s friends, Harry thinks his name was Brian, made a move of sitting beside Tilly’s mama.

Now that seemed to be the wrong thing to do for Sophia’s alpha friend, and again, Harry tries not to feel smug when Tilly had not given him the same reaction earlier (see, progress!) making it seem like she had deemed him worthy enough to sit beside the sweet omega baker. Maybe Harry should start introducing back scratches in Tilly and his’ blossoming non-volatile relationship.

Before Harry can judge the pros and cons of that, he finds himself being submerged in various conversations with Sophia’s friends, all of them eager to know how they’ve met, the basics of who he was and all that jazz. The alpha indulges their kind questions in the best way that he can, pointedly ignoring a specific alpha’s snort of hilarity when Harry had shared what he did for work because apparently, somethings are just not as manly and alpha enough. God, what a conventionalist prick.

Harry decides that he’s just not worth his time and gladly blocks Brian out by willingly answering the fashion related questions Sophia’s good-hearted friends are excitedly asking him. Thankfully it seems like the omega had chosen a group of people that are actually of the similar level of friendliness and honesty that she possesses to some extent (except for one, clearly), and Harry can’t help but smirk at the ease they have in teasing Sophia about their ‘relationship’ like any real friend would do.

Their glued-together position at the couch and their tightly entangled hands in full display for anyone to see, might not have been a good look in support of Sophia’s defense that the two of them are just the closest of friends and that no one is involved romantically with each other. Harry puts emphasis on not being romantically involved with anyone. He might be suppressing his claiming tendencies, but Harry’s not about to blatantly give the wrong impression of his loving intentions to Sophia.

Previous Harry might have taken offense in the defensive statement of the omega, but present Harry is chuffed at the apparent look of amused incredulity in everyone’s faces as if saying, ‘Yeah, sure, you guys are definitely just friends. Like totally friends that play with each other’s hands and stop mid-conversation to smile and look at each other like two idiots, and then proceed to pull each other closer together losing the main idea of personal space because you guys are OBVIOUSLY JUST FRIENDS!’

Yeah, Harry likes Sophia’s friends even if at the end of the day, he knows the only names he’d be remembering are the ones that are really the closest to the omega. Basically the faces of the three betas: Georgie, Sabrina, and Sarah, the three women that are able to make Sophia completely at ease, comfortable, and who actually knows her really well and not just from occasional messages and conversations in events like most of her other friends present.

So maybe Harry can understand now why the omega baker was hesitant in having a party, trying his best not to roll his eyes at Tracy, one of Sophia’s omega ‘friends’, who can’t seem to stop talking about this awful date she went to last weekend. Harry would offer his sympathy if only for the fact that her story didn’t actually make the guy seem bad, Tracy is just an apparent spoiled omega who expects everything to be done for and handed to her. You can’t expect a first date to cut your bloody steak for you into tiny little pieces, that’s just coming on too strong! Give an alpha a freaking break, is what Harry wanted to exclaim to her face.

Thankfully, Harry’s saved by John calling for everyone to take a seat on the long wooden log table in the middle of the garden for lunch would be soon served. Harry doesn’t think he scrambled to his feet that quickly upon hearing his golden ticket to escape a disastrous date story, ever.

Sophia giggles at the manner of intense focus Harry exemplified as they walked hand in hand to the table, “Bunny, are you so hungry that the only thing you can concentrate on is to walk the two of us as fast as possible to where the food will be?”

Harry returns her jesting smile with a roll of his eyes, “Not quite,” he answers, stepping away from their hold to pull the chair at the head of the table for the birthday girl, “I honestly just couldn’t take Tracey babbling about her date, makes us alphas sound like utter douches. I was genuinely fearing for my life there when she shared what she had done to her poor alpha date.”

Used to his dramatics, an eye roll is the only thing Harry receives from Sophia, obviously with her polite thank you for his gentlemanly actions as Harry settles on the seat of her right side because this time, the alpha knows there’s no other place the birthday girl would want him to be.

“What, you thought she’d also order the most expensive food here and make you pay for it as a lesson?” Sophia sarcastically says, “As far as I know, we’re at a birthday lunch where everything is free for the guests, and you’re not exactly short of funds Mr. Lingerie Brand Founder.”

Harry gives her a cheeky smile in response fit for her cheeky retort, “If this is your twisted way of getting me to ask you on a first date, I’d take you to the fanciest restaurant here in Cheshire with absolute pleasure, I’ll even give you the free reins to knock my wallet off.”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible!” Sophia chuckles while gently swatting Harry on the arm, the cotton candy pink flush of her cheeks leaves the alpha feeling elated at being able to cause that reaction. “I’m not a spoiled omega like that. Besides, the only thing that Tracey’s story did is to make me hungry for food. I actually wanted to stop her mid sentence to ask her to please elaborate on what the dishes looked and tasted.”

“I actually think I’ve been to the restaurant she was talking about,” Harry tells her while the platters and pots of food were starting to be placed on the big table, “I wouldn’t say the food was bad, but fancy restaurants, especially that one which is a fine dining setting, always serves their food in small portions. Definitely not worth it in my opinion.”

“Oh really?” Sophia replies, unfolding her napkin to place delicately on her lap, “Well that sucks.” she pouts at the prospect of not liking the experience of a fancy ambiance, all too suddenly turning into a slight smirk before saying, “But maybe it’s a good thing because I honestly feel like I can eat an entire elephant-size amount of food with how hungry all that talking Tracey did about food made me feel.”

Harry’s jaw actually drops open.

Let’s not even fool around here, we all know Sophia is basically imitating his dramatics during the first day they had met. Hearing her say it actually makes Harry think of what do actually people feel about him whenever he’s being that exaggerating? It’s a good thing that all the omega does is cute to his eyes so he won’t take the dig personally. I mean like, when does he ever take it seriously? He’s been dubbed as the ‘softest, fluffiest, grumpy alpha’ in his close friends group and he allows Jeff and Glenne to say that to anyone new they meet. Heck, even the press knows about that.

So Harry only chuckles at Sophia, a knowing brow raised at her, “I’d let your mocking slide because it’s your birthday. But don’t think I’d be hearing anything when you make me finish your elephant-size amount of food because your little tummy can’t take it.”

“Bunny!” Sophia gasps out his pet name dramatically, earning interested looks from her parents upon hearing the noise, “You always finish my leftovers because your alpha stomach is always hungry even if I feed you almost every single baked good available that day.”

Fiona and John laugh at her apparent outing of his eating habits, making Harry shake his head in fondness at Sophia, “And, that just strengthened my resolve cause you basically just called me fat, sunflower.”

“Did not!” Sophia pouts quickly, bottom lip that will never look not tempting to the alpha, jutted out shiny with her baby pink gloss, “Mum and dad, you guys heard what I said. I didn’t call H fat, right?”

When Sophia turns for her parents' support, Harry can’t help but laugh at the look of complete entertainment in both the older alpha’s faces, John specifically had his arms raised up in surrender.

“I’m not getting in between whatever lover’s quarrel you two are having” John says, making Harry and Fiona laugh harder at the way Sophia visibly deepens her pout at her father’s teasing response. Her blue eyes began to look expectantly at her mother to take her side on this one.

Fiona just shrugs her shoulders before answering in a smirk, “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, princess. But best believe Harry knows nothing but to spoil you. If that means eating your leftovers, then no worries because he would gladly pop a button out of his silk shirt just to please you.”

And Harry thought Fiona was on his side.

Regardless if Fiona’s statement might hold some semblance of truth (it irrevocably does but that is neither here nor there), Harry makes sure to place a smaller amount of food on his plate than what he could actually take in because he truly doesn’t want to ruin this new shirt he just bought and eating Sophia’s leftover might do just the thing if he doesn’t eat less beforehand.

*~*~*

Lunch progresses in a swimmingly fashion.

Pretty much everyone wanted to talk to the birthday girl and as much as Harry likes her attention to be pinned solely on him, he can’t really blame the others for wanting just a bit of it when Sophia’s not busy hand-feeding him a piece of her sweet potato fries cause she can’t finish the last singular piece.

It’s good that John and Fiona are seated in front of them at the long table, making Harry feel more comfortable while conversing with them. Don’t get him wrong, he thinks Sophia’s friends are generally lovely people, it’s just that they're obviously the individuals that Sophia will only get to see or interact with when there are social events like this. It doesn’t make sense to him to exert effort to get to know them for the entirety of lunch when he would only get to see them a handful times within a year.

Talking to Sophia’s parents on the other hand, is valuable time in Harry’s opinion. Not only is he getting to know a lot more about the two people that raised Sophia to be the amazing person that she is today, but he’s also gaining an insight on who and how the omega was when she was growing up that Harry will obviously not be able to turn back time to witness.

Plus, it also eases the alpha’s mind and distracts him a little having Fiona and John to converse with when Sophia had to attend to her host duties as the birthday girl. As much as they want to be beside each other for the remainder of the day, it’s just impossible when they both value human decency which includes being polite to your guests.

So he lets her go converse and have fun with her pals, leaving Harry a loud kiss on the cheek with a ‘see ya later, bunny!’ that totally wasn’t missed by her parents who totally didn’t tease the hell out of Harry how he should definitely ‘alpha up’ and just ask their daughter already. They even brought up the subject about tonight after Sophia’s party, which Harry definitely wants to think about later, and will certainly not talk about it right now while he still needs to have some sense of confidence and not turn into a puddle of pathetic nerves like he foresees will be the case later.

So everything is going smoothly with Harry just finishing talking about knitting with Fiona for as a fashion student, the alpha had only learned how to use a sewing machine which was a total shame in Fiona’s opinion. And now Harry is in the middle of a conversation with John about golf and the golfing community in Cheshire which the alpha happens to be a part of, when things just turn a little bit shit.

The unmistakable snarl of an angered Tilly breaks into the happy chatter of people, Harry’s attention instantly focusing towards the direction of the unpleasant noise. Tilly hasn’t done any of such ever since the start of the party, alerting Harry that something might be really up for her to let out that noise which usually is pointed towards Harry with her claws ready to sink on his skin for being too near Sophia.

And truth be told, someone is near Tilly’s sweet mama. Near enough the omega that Harry feels his own annoyed snarl trying to make an appearance.

Who might it be, you might ask.

Well Harry has a simple answer for that.

It’s fucking Brian!

Of fucking course it’s fucking Brian; the bloody manly prick of a fucking alpha.

“Excuse me,” Harry tries to calmly and politely tell Fiona and John, “I think my attention is quite needed somewhere else right now.”

The two simply nod their head in understanding, Harry feeling the stare of Sophia’s parents and the other guests on him as he makes his way to where Sophia and Brian are currently situated as they pitifully try to calm down a very agitated Tilly. As Harry reaches them, he gets a clearer picture of Tilly’s threatening stance and gaze directed at the other alpha, seemingly not backing down even if Sophia and Brian himself were coaxing her to put her claws back.

Any other day, Harry would find it funny and relieving that finally, Tilly’s hostile attitude is not directed towards him. But right now, he might even want that than this, whatever this is that Harry’s approaching. He just knows that Tilly always has the best intentions for Sophia in mind, meaning that Brian must have been displaying some dubious actions for the cat to act volatile towards him.

“Tilly,” Harry makes his presence known to the two people by crouching down beside the snarling kitten to catch her attention, “didn’t we talk about being polite, especially to mama’s friends, hm? What’s with all these rude and violent actions coming from?”

Harry hears the amused giggle coming from Sophia, and even if he can’t see the face of the other alpha present, Harry can also feel the look of ridicule he is throwing at Harry's head for talking to a cat.

Well guess what, talking to a cat is the only way your sorry arse is being saved from bloody scratches today, Brian, Harry bites back from saying when he’s successfully gotten Tilly to relax her claws.

In true Tilly fashion however, she still remains cautious and with her blue beady eyes remain sending warning gazes at Brian. Thankfully, she settles back a bit, now lingering by Harry’s feet as he stands up after thanking Tilly for her cooperation.

“That’s a good girl,” Harry murmurs appreciatively to the cat once he’s standing back to his full height, “Sorry about that,” he gives Brian the most semblance of a smile that he can manage to give him, “Tilly’s just really protective about Sophia, so don’t take her attack personally.”

You really should if you know what’s best for you, Harry bites back again while forcing the polite smile to remain on his face.

“Nah, it’s alright. I actually thought I got it all in control earlier, mate.” Brian waves off because of course he will with how bloody alpha-y he is, mate.

Harry tries not to grimace at the clear tension surrounding the three (four because Tilly must be included in the count as the guard cat) of them, especially when Sophia who was now beaming up at Harry with a full grateful expression, doesn’t seem to notice the shift in the air. Sophia naturally clings an arm around Harry’s bicep because that’s a thing they do more often than not when in near proximity. Harry however, does not fail to notice the way Brian’s eyes follow the movement with his jaw hardening in reaction.

“H is really so good with her,” Sophia gushes to Brian with unabashed delight present in her tone, “his patience is just top notch when it comes to my moody Tilly, I honestly don’t know how he does it! But look at them now, almost the bestest of friends, right bunny?”

Harry chuckles despite the apparent pointed stare Brian is giving him, “I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I guess I can say that the two of us have found some sort of compromise and a common ground. Like I have a better understanding of her now which is why I came here straight away when I heard her causing a ruckus.”

That seemed to spark something in Sophia, “Oh, yeah! Good thing you’re actually here, bunny. Well not for the ruckus or anything, it wasn’t like that. I just think Tilly was being a little dramatic to be honest.” she giggles, whispering the last part to make sure the still attentive Tilly doesn’t hear.

“Anyway,” Sophia continues when she’s sure Tilly didn’t hear her little dig on her, “I think it’s fab that you’re here because Brian was actually just telling me about this new big, and artisanal wooden furniture pieces he did himself for this new restaurant around town. Brian here says he even retrieved the wood himself, which I think is really hard and commendable.”

Let me guess, Harry thinks, he made everything by himself using his own strong hands. It’s so strong that he only used his big, bare hands to chop the goddamn tree like the real alpha that he is. Obviously he didn’t have any workers on his furniture firm, and obviously he’s so old-fashioned and traditional that using tools was a sin that will destroy his essence of being a manly alpha.

Harry’s not being bitter for the sake of being one, he just knows when someone is saying shit for the sake of wanting to look like the shit to impress someone. Clearly he’s not Brian’s demographic because Harry is not fucking impressed in whatever angle you look at that word.

Harry’s own jaw tightens when he sees Brian visibly puffs his broad chest just a little bit more that it’s honestly too obnoxious in Harry’s opinion, upon hearing the obvious innocent praise coming from Sophia.

“Brian most probably did such a good job with his new furniture line,” Sophia continues providing slight reprieve from Harry’s eyes that’s almost turning into slits at how much his dislike for Brian just grows by the second of being near him, “that the owners of the restaurant invited him for free dinner anytime he wants! What’s even better is that the owners allowed him to bring a plus one!”

Oh..oh.

Of fucking course Brian’s already asked Sophia to be his plus one! The omega doesn’t even need to elaborate any further with Harry just experiencing the fucking annoying smug look Brian is obviously giving him right now.

Before Harry can even process his massive vehemence of dislike to the guy and could even start understanding why Sophia, his sunflower, agreed to be Brian’s plus one when Harry thought the two of them were on the same page with where they want this friendship to blossom further, Sophia breaks his brewing misery with her next statement like cold water suddenly washing over him in relief.

“That’s why I think it’s perfect timing that you’re here, bunny.” Sophia’s wide beam pointed towards Harry making his earlier dejected feelings confused, “Brian invited me to be his plus one, but I was just about to ask him where this new restaurant is located so you and I can go together after our time at the bakery one of these days. I know the owners only allowed Brian a single plus one, but I thought it would be delightful if there were a few more of us so it can be a good friends hangout! We haven’t done one in ages, that's why I think it would be worth it to pay for the rest.”

Oh..oh.

Of fucking course, his sunflower is still his sweet, innocent, and friendly sunflower who’s just rather oblivious to romantic advances towards her! Unfortunately, it’s not the first time Harry has seen all types of genders and secondary genders try to seek her attention in the bakery. But every time it happens, Sophia just doesn’t completely understand the intention from such individuals. Only with the help of Georgie and Sabrina will the omega realize later of what had just occurred, looking red and quite embarrassed the entire time they’re teasing their boss with Harry barely containing his delight for Sophia’s unknowingness.

However, today’s the first time that Harry has noticed it up close and personal. Harry thinks he has not yet seen any of Sophia’s customers looking this shocked and crestfallen like Brian is expressing currently upon her oblivious rejection to his apparent advances.

Sophia might not have verbally rejected Brian, but the next thing she says (and DOES) is surely a rejection in the best way only Sophia can do.

“What do you think, bunny?” Sophia asks a silent and still processing Harry, taking it upon herself to enclose both her arms on Harry’s waist in a hug, chin resting on his torso to shine her ocean blues directly to his unsure green orbs.

Ouch.

The sweet omega baker is really oblivious if she can’t detect the very unpleasant look Brian is throwing at their tightly-knit bodies right now, because how can Harry rewrite his instinct to not wrap his own arms back at Sophia when the omega hugs him.

Plus, how can Harry say, ‘fuck yes, I’m absolutely going with you because you’re not going to fucking go on a date with this prick of an alpha’ without just blurting that out in full enthusiasm? He might be really happy on the inside for these turn of events, but he’s still a decent human being who wouldn’t rub it on someone’s face that they just got rejected, and essentially replaced, by him.

Instead, Harry tries to play it cool, “I think that can be arranged, if you want.”

“If I want?” Sophia repeats with an incredulous laugh following it, “Of course I freaking want to!” she exclaims before dropping her face on Harry’s chest and just casually nuzzles her nose into the soft fabric of his silk shirt, overtly inhaling his scent without any ounce of shame.

Sophia shouldn’t be ashamed of her actions, really. It’s just not good with Harry’s rising level of smugness that he’s basically putting more pain on an unmoving alpha just watching their exchange thinking: that should be me.

Well sorry, mate. Not all of us can be seduced by your alpha manliness, Harry tries to bite back again. In lieu of lowering down his high self-satisfaction, Harry decides to ask Sophia something that piques his interest.

“And why would you ‘freaking’ want to, sunflower?” Harry curiously asks, not expecting the pout that Sophia gives him.

“Bunny, the two of us have not yet dined somewhere else except for the bakery. Do you not want to eat out with me, or something?”

That undeniable sad tone in Sophia’s voice just won’t do. Fuck Brian and his rejected emotions!

“Of course not!” Harry quickly asserts, lowering himself to be able to rest his forehead against the pouting omega’s, wanting her to clearly listen to him. “I was planning to discuss something about this, later tonight.” The mention of later causes Sophia’s breath to hitch, little pink tongue poking out to wet her now bare plump lips without any shine of a gloss, “But, we can remove the discussion of our first eat-out tonight and just get it done with right now. If you're certain this is the restaurant you want us to go to, sunflower. Actually, where is it even?”

That results Sophia to break her unwavering gaze in Harry to shift towards the other alpha, the unfortunately rejected, and forgotten one. Sophia still remains in Harry’s hold, cheeks now squished on his chest comfortably while smiling kindly at Brian.

“I keep forgetting to ask,” Sophia giggles at Brian like she didn’t do anything to ruin his big alpha ego, “where’s this new restaurant located exactly, Brian? And I’m sorry if I’m taking so much of your time! I’m just getting side-tracked as per usual, totally does not help when H here smells so brill!” she giggles again, quickly adding, “But I promise after you tell me the location of the restaurant, we’ll be out of your hair and you can finally enjoy the rest of the party without being cornered by the celebrant.”

Oh please, that’s surely what Brian wants. Brian wants to get cornered by the birthday celebrant because he clearly fancies her. Harry would even be inclined to say that Brian would also want to corner him.

Corner Harry to punch him in the face like a traditional alpha would do to someone who steals their potential mate.

Thankfully Harry didn’t steal anything. He’s just along for the ride with the friendly and oblivious sweet omega (and the moody, protective guard cat, Tilly) wherever she goes; hopefully it’s a never-ending ride.

*~*~*

After the entire Brian debacle, everything actually goes back smoothly in the party.

No more cat threats and loud hissing, and definitely no more future advances to the birthday girl. Harry thinks Tilly and him have done a good job steering away possible ‘threats’ to befall upon their sweet omega. For those doubting party guests who will attest that they saw Tilly lunge on Harry’s legs in absolute distrust that he’s over feeding/choking Sophia while Harry’s spoon feeding her their shared cup of peppermint and vanilla bean ice cream, Harry would like to respond by saying that Tilly and him make the dream team regardless of their still rocky relationship, thank you very much.

Though the ultimate threat repellant would be Sophia’s adamant resistance of being apart from Harry. The birthday girl will take no nothing to not be joined at the hands, arms, hips, waist, and even foot with Harry; keeping the both of them connected in some way with their ankles interlocked together under the table where they were sitting.

Even now, when Sarah’s telling Sophia to take center-stage at the specific area they created at the far end of Sophia’s garden where her sizable doughnut tower cake is placed on the table, the omega is still stuck to Harry’s side.

As the birthday celebrant, everyone is currently gathered around said area, waiting for the omega to take her stand beside her ‘cake’ so they can all sing her a happy birthday with their phones all out to capture the moment. Harry definitely got the memo with his phone ready in one hand, camera app open and all.

The only problem is that Sophia doesn’t want to leave his side, and go blow her candle and make a wish like regular birthday celebrants.

“Sunflower,” Harry giggles in amusement at the omega who was trying to make herself even smaller behind his back where she is currently hiding herself with her arms wrapped securely around the alpha, “you can’t hide there forever and not blow your birthday candle. No matter how much I tell you that you’re such a tiny sweet creature, you actually can’t fit and hide inside my back pockets as much as we both want to.”

Harry feels Sophia’s giggles vibrate on his back from where she has nestled her face, mumbling, “Why don’t you go and blow the candle for me bunny, and then wish that I was pocket-sized so I can finally hide and fit inside your pocket every time I please.”

Harry chuckles despite the ridiculousness of Sophia’s apparent stalling of time, “Hate to break it to you love, but my wish isn’t going to work because I’m not the birthday celebrant. Didn’t you know wishes only come true when it’s the one with the birthday blowing the candle?”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Sophia plays along, clearly trying to buy herself more time.

“Yup, well now you know. Do you want to hear another thing related to that?”

“Yes, please.”

“I also know that birthday celebrants who don’t blow out their candles, can’t eat their birthday cake. Because it’s now poisoned by the birthday gods who thought the celebrant was being ungrateful for not religiously following proper birthday etiquette. Good thing, guests like myself get all the privileges to eat all of it.”

“Bunny!” Sophia laughs loudly, hands tenderly squeezing Harry’s love handles, the alpha laughing along as he pictures the surely pouting and frowning adorable face of the omega who’s back to burrowing her face on his back, “You’re just teasing me now, stop it bunny!”

Harry feels endeared more than anything, “Well what do you expect me to say? I swear this is the first party I’ve ever been to where the birthday girl doesn’t want all the attention on her. Are you sure it is even your birthday?”

Harry thinks he deserves the playful bite Sophia imprints on his thin silk shirt, finding it difficult to hold back a groan from the sudden (and currently unwanted) punch of pleasure that coils warmly around his insides from just that singular action from Sophia. Harry is further caught off guard when Sophia plants a gentle kiss on where she had just lightly bit me, as if soothing the sting making the alpha’s breath hitch. Harry’s smile easily appears on his face from the never lost caring nature of the omega.

“You know I never like the attention,” Sophia whispers on his back, volume soft enough for just Harry to hear, “I think it’s really unnecessary to place this so much attentiveness on a person during the day of their birth. What are we even celebrating here? Me getting birthed today? I didn’t even do anything during that time 24 years ago! Mum should be the one being celebrated today for surviving labor and pushing me out.”

Give it to Sophia for having the ability to completely do a 360 degree turn on their conversation. Harry is absolutely enraptured while hearing Sophia talk about Fiona giving birth to her no matter how absurd and perplexing it may be.

Already kind of knowing that if he continues to follow along the path of this conversation, it would just lead them to nowhere. With an audible sigh filled with amusement more than annoyance - because Harry has accepted long ago that he can never get annoyed at the omega despite their apparent differences as Harry is a definite narcissist that needs his fill of attention - Harry submits to the never-failing idea of a compromise.

“How about this, sunflower,” Harry begins to say at the unmoving Sophia still comfortably plastered at his back, “you go there in the middle, make a wish and blow out your candle - no, keep your little vampire teeth please and let me finish.” he amusedly reprimands Sophia, continuing when he feels the meat of her lips on his back instead of her sharp pearly whites, “Thank you for cooperating, sunflower. Anyway, as I was saying, you go do all those birthday girl duties while I stay by your side to keep you company. What do you say?”

And it should be funny, definitely hilarious, that Sophia doesn’t even provide him any response and simply unlatches her tight hold around Harry by rearranging their position with her in front of him, arms reaching back to place both her hands inside Harry’s backside pockets as she quickly shuffles the two of them together beside the doughnut tower.

So much for preparing his phone out, Harry has no doubt that everyone in the party is having the time of their life filming a seconds ago timid Sophia, now comfortably basking in everyone’s cheers with her dainty hands still snug inside the alpha’s back pockets as if to keep them securely connected with Harry’s front tightly affix to her back.

Harry can’t even be bothered to be honest, finds himself singing Sophia a happy birthday just as merrily as everyone else. He even has the privilege to whisper the words directly to the birthday girl’s ears, no one can ever feel as lucky and blessed as Harry right now as Sophia moves around to hug him properly after blowing out her candles.

“Bunny! You have to taste this!” Sophia avidly tells Harry after picking a doughnut from the tower and taking a good bite out of it with her little cheeks filling in an instant like an adorably tiny chipmunk.

Harry giggles, thumb reaching out to wipe the residue of honey that’s left on the side of Sophia’s puffy lips, because of course the sweet omega baker’s birthday doughnut tower has to have honey in it. He happily accepts the piece of doughnut Sophia is hand-feeding him right now, green eyes matching the ocean blues of Sophia that’s staring at him as they light-up just the same at the magnificent taste hitting his taste buds.

“Wow, what is that?” Harry asks, mouth shamelessly opening wide to signal Sophia the urgent need for another bite.

Sophia gives him a beaming smile, happily feeding Harry the last bite of her doughnut, “It’s a simple honey-glazed doughnut but I asked mum to add bits of bacon in the batter so there will be a good savory surprise in it. I thought it would be good, do you think it’s good, bunny?”

Harry doesn’t answer right away, choosing instead to leave Sophia for a minute while he quickly snatches six doughnuts in the rapidly disappearing doughnut tower. The omega rightfully laughs at how ridiculous Harry certainly looks with six doughnuts grasped tightly on his bare hands, rings getting sticky with honey be damned.

“What are you doing?” Sophia guffaws, pointing at the table Harry had just left, “There are plates there to put that on, bunny.”

Harry just grins at the omega without any trace of regret, “Sunflower, you gotta do what you gotta do to secure these goodies. Look at them absolutely raiding the doughnuts!” Harry dramatically points his occupied doughnut containing fist to John and other fellow alpha guests doing the same thing with their bare hands, “No time for plates when your father is on the loose ready to take the kill with these honey goodies!”

“Hey, I heard that!” John calls him out, doughnut-free hand wiping away the excess honey on his lips making Harry laugh.

“It’s true!” Harry teases back, “and John, I think you missed a spot on your cheek, you absolute messy eater! You’re making us alphas look so wildly starved! Definitely not a good look on us.”

Harry even had the audacity to shake his head jokingly in disappointment, taking an obscene bite on two doughnuts in one big go. Harry moans at the sweet and savory perfect mixture of the honey and bacon. “Wow, that really is the shit! No wonder John is ready to pop the buttons of his new shirt!”

John, bless him, chuckles loudly and takes Harry’s teasing in stride, “You, young man, better be thankful that you’re important to my daughter or I would have kicked you out right this instant with all your jesting. Don’t expect a goodie bag either to take home with these bad boys.”

And because they’re clearly having a laugh at each other, Harry and John simultaneously began shoving two whole doughnuts in one go like absolute rabid animals that have not been fed for ages.

“Oh my god! You guys are impossible!” Sophia squawks a laugh at their state, eyes wide in disbelief as she watches her father and best friend practically inhale the doughnuts. “You two better behave yourselves and stop looking like freaking alpha cavemans!”

As the birthday girl, it would be the imperative for guests to follow her wishes to the best of their ability. As much as Harry breathes to do everything Sophia wants, he can’t really help the very loud burp escaping his highly-satisfied and doughnut-stuffed body. What’s worse is that John and him release their deafening burps of satisfaction at the same time.

Sophia groans at them in disgust, “Holy..you two are the worst!”

To be honest, Harry doesn’t think so. John and him are not the worst when they both seem to have the same brilliant mind, eyes locking together in mirth with a nod of understanding given to each other. The two of them are definitely not the worst when they expertly enclose a protesting Sophia in a hug on both her sides, Harry and John smacking a sickeningly sweet (literally) kiss on her cheeks.

The omega’s melodious laughter suggests that she agrees to Harry’s point now. Her sticky and lovingly flushed cheeks are the least of her concerns, skillfully reaching for the remaining honey doughnuts on both Harry’s and John’s hands and bringing it straight to her mouth with the biggest bite that she can make while smirking triumphantly at them.

Fine. Harry guesses her father and him deserved that.

*~*~*

Sophia’s 24th, intimate garden party ended by the time the sun had turned golden and slowly disappeared all it’s bright rays as the night sky took its turn on the main stage of the atmosphere.

Considerably, everyone has also taken their leave as the party seems to wrap-up. Guests take turns to say their last wishes and goodbyes to Sophia, the sweet omega saying her gratitude and appreciation for every single guest that made it today. Harry watched in amusement as Tilly, the ever trusted guard cat, stayed beside her sweet mama because it’s totally logical that people handing their gifts to Sophia as they leave, might contain the threat that the cat had her eyes set on since the start of the party.

Thankfully, no untrusting gifts were handed to Sophia and all Tilly has to worry about now is how to share her space with Harry for the rest of the night. The look of confusion that turned to apparent displeasure Tilly had given the alpha when Sophia had led him to the guest room, is still ingrained in Harry’s mind as he himself tries to make complete sense of the magnitude of their current situation.

Here’s the thing: Harry is going to have his first sleepover at Sophia’s fairy cottage tonight.

A week back, when Harry had asked the sweet omega baker what she had wanted for her birthday, the alpha already expected that Sophia’s timid and modest nature would be difficult for him to get a straight answer. Except that Sophia seems to like keeping Harry on the tip of his toes as she surprises him once again with her quick answer.

The omega said in the most certain voice Harry had ever heard coming from her: “I want to have a sleepover at my house after the party; just a me and you type of sleepover.”

And Harry might have ruptured an artery or something, that day due to unrestrained surprise from her confident request. In full disclosure, Harry had never gone to a one-on-one sleepover with an omega before, not even a female for that matter. His sleepover experiences only included staying at Jeff’s place (fellow alpha), Mitch’s flat (beta friend), and occasionally Glenne’s home (omega friend that also happens to be taken by his alpha best friend).

Harry’s only point of reference are one night stands at the places of the omegas he’s met at the bar. Though that’s not really going to help his situation here. First of all, Sophia is not a stranger he just met at the club, she already holds a big part of Harry’s heart that she shares with Anne even if Sophia doesn’t know that yet. And second of all, Harry is not a fucking prick of an alpha who immediately expects that Sophia’s birthday gift request holds any sexual elements into it.

No matter how horny he may seem, Harry is never going to do anything Sophia doesn’t want to, especially sexual ones. Never, it’s disgusting when alphas - or whatever gender/secondary gender you are - don’t understand the concept of getting consent. Fucking dickheads those people are.

Before Harry got consumed with his angry thoughts about indecent human beings, Sophia might have taken his silence in a wrong way as the omega quickly explained herself on why she had requested for such. The sadness in Sophia’s eyes that she tried to hide with her sheepishness of not having enough friends when she was younger that she could actually trust to have a sleepover at her childhood home, made Harry feel for her especially when she continues that now she’s grown-up, she isn’t quite comfortable asking her friends for something quite childish.

“Never childish, love.” Harry had assured her with strong arms cradling the petite form of the visibly embarrassed omega gently on his chest after having found her way on his lap.

Harry had never agreed faster in his life for something he’s not so sure how to do or go about. Not regretting his decision in any form when it had gifted him in return the most glorious and awestruck smile from the omega, as if she couldn’t comprehend how someone like him will willingly give that type of present to her.

If it’s not stressed enough, well he’s going to stress it again and again.

Harry would do anything that Sophia needs or wants to the best of his abilities. And if that includes sitting on her lilac couch in his grey joggers and worn-out white tee doing mindless sketching on his sketchbook to settle his nerves down, then Harry would gladly do it.

Sophia had left Harry for a moment to go get ready herself for their ‘cozy sleepover’. The omega had named it that after excitedly showing Harry the materials of various snuggly pillows and blankets and quilts she prepared for their blanket fort. It’s apparently the first item in their agenda: make the best, and coziest blanket fort in the living room.

The alpha agrees with a big smile; he can do blanket forts. Blanket forts do not make him nervous for their sleepover, so Harry will happily spend time perfecting their fort. He says the same thing to Sophia who giggles in reply, telling him to go wait for her at the couch as she sorts herself out of her party dress so that Harry can also save up his energy for laters’ tedious fort making business.

Harry doesn’t offer any protest, not quite comfortable to even tease her when he kind of really needs his last alone time to think properly before he just blabbers to Sophia the most important question for tonight. So, Harry does the thing that centers him the most: lingerie sketching.

Harry tousles his long curls away from his face, focusing intently on the sketch of the dress he currently has. The straps he drew to be tied into bows at the shoulder, a clear inspiration from all the birthday bows he saw today. The flower-like cups on the bust of the dress are inspired by the floral printed sandals Sophia wore for her party look, Harry grins at how mismatched it looked earlier with her plain pink party dress but knew deep down that whatever Sophia wore will always be beautiful and appealing to him.

Harry also placed big attention on the waist part of the dress, paying homage to the glistening rhinestone belt Sophia wore earlier. Harry smirks, remembering how the belt had perfectly cinched her little body tighter, highlighting her figure with her loving curves on display receiving much needed appreciation. Harry definitely needs to emulate that in this piece, making the skirt of the dress three layered to exhibit more of a flared motion that Sophia’s earlier dress lacked.

Harry is just coming into the big terms that for him to actually be able to sell this dress, it has to be done with a see-through fabric. His Sweet Creature is a lingerie and intimates brand, Harry can’t be selling detailed party dresses. But envisioning his new, see-through piece being worn by his muse, is not the wisest thing right now to do. Harry does not want to ruin his remarkable progress in being able to successfully control his stiffys in relation to thoughts and instances with the sweet omega baker.

And because the universe wants to challenge Harry for whatever fucking reason, Sophia appears in the living room just as the alpha is trying to think about dead kittens to calm down his unhelpful and traitor of a body. And because the universe and his body is apparently ganging-up on Harry right now, Sophia is standing just a few feet away from the alpha on the couch, wearing white cotton shorts with little heart imprints into it with it’s matching little cotton crop top, and Harry’s blue silk shirt from earlier.

“Bunny, is it okay if I wore this?” Sophia asks Harry casually, beginning to close some of the buttons.

“Uhm..” Harry trails off dumbly, because what the fuck is happening? These emotions present in him right now surely do not happen in friend sleepovers.

Oblivious to Harry’s dumbstruck reaction, Sophia happily claps her hands in success after buttoning half of Harry’s shirt on her body, “I was going to look at the guest room if I had misplaced any cardigan there, cause all mine is in the laundry tonight. And then I saw this perfectly folded on your bed and it just called to me, bunny. So I hope it’s okay that I’m wearing it for tonight, don’t wanna get cold during our sleepover.”

Of course, it’s totally okay that my clothes called for you, Harry frantically thinks based on Sophia’s explanation.

That’s totally understandable because it’s only normal for your omega to be attracted to my alpha’s scent that’s why you think my shirt called for you, Harry continues to madly think to himself.

With all these thoughts, what comes out of Harry's mouth?

“Of course, sunflower, you can wear my shirt for tonight. But are you sure you want to though? Don’t think it will be quite comfortable on your skin when I basically wore it for the entire day.”

And, alright? That’s all you gotta say Harry, after you frenzied yourself with your thoughts earlier? You surely are a whipped alpha if you're thinking of Sophia’s comfortability instead of your own sanity.

Oh Jesus Christ, help me, is all Harry can answer to himself as he tries to busy his thoughts by taking away his sketching materials back to his bag while Sophia giddily sits beside him.

“Totally not,” Sophia replies to Harry’s question, tilting her head towards her shoulder with the tip of her nose slightly hitting the fabric of Harry’s shirt on her shoulder, “Silk feels comfortable on my skin, and the scent of peppermint and sandalwood is definitely comfortable to my senses.”

Yeah. Harry really needs some sort of divine intervention if he thinks he can survive this friendly sleepover without having the undying urge to kiss the omega.

“That’s good,” Harry provides as a short reply, clearing his throat in hopes of getting back more of his English vocabulary.

Sophia giggles while looking at him, Harry’s not sure what for, but he doesn’t want to take his chances and look even more stupid infront of her so he quickly takes control of their conversation.

“Want to start on that blanket fort?”

No verbal response was given to Harry for his question, only a squeal of genuine excitement from Sophia like she had forgotten of the important plan she had just made for them earlier. Harry does not complain at her unceasing excited giggles while dumping piles upon piles of blankets on his arms. Harry finds himself laughing at the omega for thinking his big, alpha arms can actually hold all the damn blankets from freaking Zara Home.

“Did you buy every single blanket from Zara home, or something?” Harry mumbles with his entire face being covered by the continuously growing tower of blankets on his arms.

Sophia giggles and does not take offense at Harry’s teasing, “Don’t forget H&M Home, and White Company, bunny.”

Harry guffaws his snorting laugh in surprise at Sophia’s answer, resulting in the blanket tower toppling over his arms and onto the floor, making him laugh harder when he trips on one of them. Instead of feeling embarrassed, Harry happily follows the fallen blankets on Sophia’s living room floor in absolute laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

“This isn’t going so well,” Sophia says with total fondness seeping out from her voice, the same emotion being reflected in her blue orbs as Harry stares at them contentedly while shamelessly snuggling on the countless blankets now on the floor.

“Sunflower,” Harry calls for her softly, making himself look cute because he can, “how about we put a rain check on that blanket fort and you just go join me here on the floor where all your blankets have fallen perfectly for a cozy time.”

He picks up one of the pillows on his reach to snuggle tightly on top of chest to show complete cozy bliss, the only selling factor that will make Sophia concede.

“No way,” Sophia shakes her head at him despite the permanent grin on her features.

“But-”

“It won’t be a perfect, cozy sleepover if we don’t do the blanket fort.” Sophia pouts because she can, “You do look quite snuggly-toasty there, but I want the whole experience of a quintessential sleepover. But again, bunny you still look really cute there on your..”

Sophia motions with her hands around Harry and all the blankets that truthfully is not miraculously fallen perfectly on the floor so easily, it’s more haphazard than harmonious.

“Fine,” Harry relents simply while sitting up, “only because you called me cute.”

“Whatever.” Sophia rolls her eyes with blushing cheeks, always getting flustered when reminded of her sweet actions that she seems to not notice when she does it. “Now stand up and get your game face on cause this now is going to be the serious blanket fort business time.”

Harry doesn’t know what type of game face Sophia is asking of him, decides all together that he can’t even conjure his face to make one when all it seems to break into is the nose-scrunching closed lip smile of utter fondness. It’s hard to do any other faces than that when it's just instinctual when it comes to the amazing omega.

*~*~*

As the night progresses, Harry thinks that he can actually add ‘having sleepovers with my omega friends’ on the list of things that he can do. Harry thinks he might have just made himself apprehensive over nothing earlier. He doesn’t know what’s to be nervous about spending the night at Sophia’s place when the blanket fort they spent 45 minutes perfecting is probably one of the best creations that Harry has done in his life.

The two of them are now trying to settle inside their fort, finding the most comfortable position they want to stay in while watching the Lizzie McGuire movie (because any film with Queen Hilary Duff is obviously sleepover appropriate) with their cups of herbal tea are cradled nicely in the palms of their own hands. Harry actually wanted to point out that having herbal tea as their refreshment, and only form of snack (if you can even call it that), is not following the quintessential sleepover Sophia was musing about from earlier.

Instead, Harry remembers that he kind of needs herbal tea right now, like he really needs it to help calm him down from what he’s about to do soon.

The alpha just can’t wait anymore is the thing.

Helping Sophia not get drowned in her heart printed loungewear (the heart detail is totally going to be added on his second piece) in the endless mounds of blankets, as well as giving the little omega a hand with lifting heavy chairs as support for their blanket ceiling, has been quite a fun time. Even if Sophia had stubbornly refused his efforts to help her detangle the fairy lights to be placed at the edges and around their fort, Harry had fondly kissed her cheek when the pouting omega came back to his side with her imaginary tail between her legs in defeat, the fairy lights further tangled in a ball.

It had been a really good experience no doubt, it’s just that everything would have been miles better if Harry didn’t have to suppress the need to kiss Sophia silly. Harry can let it pass if the feeling only passes him once, but it was every bloody time!

The words, “Sweet omega, you don’t need to ask for my help anymore because as your alpha, it’s my job to always care for you and help you without any prompt. You’re my responsibility now. So may I please have a kiss to tell me you understand the importance of what I just said?”

All those words are what Harry has been biting back since their sleepover has fully commenced.

So yes, all things considered, everything is dandy. But to make everything even dandier, then Harry needs to once and for all appease his alpha by confessing to Sophia.

That’s where his resolve has brought him now while looking at the screen of the telly, showcasing just the first part of the movie in Lizzie’s high school graduation. At this moment, Harry really can’t give any drop of his focus on the movie despite knowing Sophia is basically engrossed in the film beside him. It’s the thought that makes him think that it might not be the best decision to start a massive serious conversation with the omega who is currently paying not much of an attention to him.

But again, Harry cannot physically and mentally faff around anymore.

Thus, in the spur of all moments, Harry mutters a “Fuck it.” loud enough that when he turns to look at Sophia, the omega whips her head to his direction a second later.

“What’s wrong, bunny?” Sophia cutely tilts her head in question, the glow of the fairy lights and the telly illuminating her slightly frowning face.

With no time to wax lyrical of how gorgeous the cast of light highlights Sophia’s natural features, Harry takes a deep breath in hopes of still being able to find semblance of what he had originally planned to say when the movie was over, reaching for Sophia’s hands (thankfully not holding her cuppa or it would have spilled all over and ruined their moment!) in a grounding hold, placing it on his lap before saying:

“May I please be given the chance to court you, omega?”

The look of unbridled surprise that washes over Sophia’s face is not a shocker to Harry, he kind of already expected that knowing her this long, together with the little squeak of surprise that leaves her parted lips.

What he didn’t expect is what she replies not even a minute later.

“Do people still even do that?”

Harry tries not to read into her apparent surprised question that isn’t really a straight out rejection but, ouch.

Does she not want to be courted? Is that like a no go for her in every situation? Harry frantically thinks. He desperately racks his brain of any moments or conversations they had before that Sophia might have told him her views on courting.

Holy shit, is the omega against the entire idea of courting because it’s too traditional? And now she probably thinks Harry is a complete alpha prick, no better than Brian from earlier, for putting her in this position of needing to choose between their friendship or her personal principles and view in life.

The look of panic and downright horror must be painted across his face because the next thing Harry knows is Sophia is returning the same look of trepidation in her beautiful face making the alpha feel even more guiltier.

About to spiral in a myriad of apologies - love confessions and his feelings be damned - Sophia startles Harry once again, literally this time, making him almost jump out from his own skin at the loudness of her coming statement.

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!” Sophia all but shouts, hands disappearing from Harry’s hold to place on her cheeks in an embarrassed tick, “That’s not what I meant at all, bunny.” The omega repeats much slower, with more firmness in her tone with every word in that same sentence. Her blue widened eyes searching earnestly at Harry’s own for some sort of reaction.

The alpha can only offer her a look of mixed surprise and confusion, more-so confused because what does she mean by that? As far as Harry knows, the answer to his earlier question only required a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ as an answer. Any other response is going to leave him the need to ask for an explanation.

Except he doesn’t need to. Sophia continues to speak when arriving empty handed of her desired reaction from Harry. Her dainty hands now the one reaching for Harry’s trembling ones, movie forgotten in the background as Sophia gently litters every exposed skin of his hand with what the alpha can only deduce as apologetic kisses.

“Bunny, I didn’t mean for you to take my question the wrong way,” Sophia implores in a tone of utmost sincerity, “It was genuinely just a question out of surprise. Like, I haven’t heard anyone ask that to my friends, let alone to myself so it really caught me off-guard and I obviously spiraled in the wrong direction of a response because I’m really quite crap at anything relationship talk.” and not even the self-deprecating chuckle that Sophia gives herself breaks Harry from his on-edge notion.

“I don’t even know why that’s the first thing I blurted out,” Sophia continues, “that’s not even my answer to your specific question, like at all.”

Breathless, Harry asks, “What was your answer supposed to be then?”

Harry is hyper aware of everything Sophia in that moment. The way her breath suddenly hitches, ocean blues looking down at their interlocked hands, long feathery lashes hitting the topmost part of her cheekbones for every blink she does, plump bottom lip in between her teeth, and Harry’s utmost favorite cotton candy pink blush is ever-present on her rounded, dimpling cheeks.

Like she wants to kill Harry with her gorgeousness, the omega takes the final shot home right after.

Eyes looking underneath her lashes, laser-focused on Harry’s soul, Sophia replies:

“Yes,” Sophia’s harmonic giggles an absolute melody in the alpha’s ringing ears, “Of course it’s a yes, bunny.”

It’s not just simply a ‘yes’ Harry registers in his love muddled brain, it’s even fucking better! Sophia answered with an, ‘of course! and yes!’

Harry might be in heaven already. The glorious stars on Sophia’s eyes, her angelic voice and cherubic dimpled smile is enough proof for Harry to believe that he might have died just that second.

“Really? Are you for real?” Harry asks with disbelief written in his eyes because that’s the only sensible thing to say when one feels fucking unworthy for being allowed in heaven and in the presence of such an angelic, otherworldly, goddess.

Sophia giggles once again, squeezing Harry’s hands in her hold before repeating, “Yes! I’m so serious, bunny!”

“But..why? How?” Harry dumbly asks, which he should just shut up because he’s making himself become more unworthy by questioning this stunning celestial of a being that has made Harry the luckiest man in all galaxies!

Sophia takes the alpha’s rather stupefied reaction in stride, rolling her eyes with an undeniable upward curve of her lips, “Why are you asking these questions? Of course it’s going to be a yes. How can it be not when I always give you extra honey cookies cause I care for you so much, I panicked myself into oblivion when you arrived late that one day at the bakery, cried and cuddled on your lap like some needy omega. Your patience for my cat makes me feel over the moon, we both met each other's parents already which is a tell-tale sign that you’re important to me, I wouldn’t just bring you home if I didn’t see a future in us. Heck, I turned down Brian earlier, an alpha who I’ve known longer than you, and proceeded to compliment your scent straight to his face, and then I’m wearing your scent right now in your used shirt because it makes me feel fucking safe and comforted. How can all that not be a yes?”

There’s a lot of important things to note in Sophia’s utter show of bravery in sharing her thoughts and emotions. Harry’s so proud of his timid girl letting all that out from her chest to show him how much he means to her, the ever-sweet omega even cursed for his sake!

But only one thing gets stuck on Harry’s alpha brain on repeat, and definitely shouldn’t be the one worth mentioning.

“So you did know that Brian was hitting on you!” Harry exclaims, that's the first thing he says when he got his full wits back, “I knew you couldn’t have been that oblivious when he was being so fucking obvious that whole time!”

Despite the deep craters still indented on Sophia’s smiling cheek, the omega gives Harry the most deadpan look she can muster in this moment, “Are we seriously going to be talking about Brian right now?”

“Fuck no!” is Harry’s immediate response filled with disgust, he doesn’t even try to hide it in his face that’s all screwed-up in the most not-cute way making Sophia laugh. “I don’t want to talk about that prick of an alpha, like ever. Why are you even asking me that?”

“Because!” Sophia laughs in the faux horrified expression Harry is giving her, “From all the beautiful things I said about my feelings for you, you decided to focus on that one! It’s your fault, not mine for thinking that you want to talk about Brian.”

Harry would take all the blame from her if the alpha gets to see her this carefree and elated forever. It’s as if they weren’t just both nervous in their own ways minutes prior, like they didn’t just undergo a colossal thing in their evolving story, turning to the next chapter of courting!

“Don’t even mention his name.” Harry points out, failing to remain the faux frown on his face when Sophia just keeps giggling at every response he gives, “How about you continue just talking about my name, and all the butterflies-in-your-stomach emotions that you feel whenever you hear my name.”

Harry obnoxiously wiggle his eyebrows up and down, the tone of Sophia’s giggles becoming more dulcet by the second.

“I’ve kind of done all the talking since earlier,” Sophia says softly, thumbs gently stroking the skin of Harry’s hands as the atmosphere in the room suddenly becomes much quieter than before. Without the telly still playing their movie, Harry thinks he’ll be able to hear Tilly breathing in the omega’s room from how faint and steady their surroundings have become.

“So is it my turn to finally be able to sing sonnets about your beauty and kindness and all the wild animals fluttering in my stomach from how good you make me feel now that I’m officially going to court you?”

The teasing tilt in Harry’s voice is not met by the usual amused laugh from Sophia, nor is her eyes ignited by his cheeky comment. Instead, what remains is the bright flush on the apples of her cheeks any time Harry even remotely insinuates saying things to compliment her. The only difference that Harry notes while in the bare lit living room, is that Sophia almost looks like she’s nervous being beside Harry while blushing.

The two of them are way past being nervous around each other, especially when the both of them blush around each other more often than not when teasing blurs the fine line of blatant flirting.

Harry’s more confused when he also hears the poorly contained skittish tone is Sophia’s considerably much quiet voice saying, “How about..let’s do the talking later and just do something else right now?”

Harry slowly nods his head trying to understand where the omega was going with this, “Alright, but what kind of thing are you thinking of doing now? Oh, you think we should go back to watching the movie? I know you said this is one of your favorite movies and we’ve missed a good portion. Lizzie and her classmates are in Italy already!” he motions his head towards the forgotten telly.

When he doesn’t get an immediate response or even a nod of a head from Sophia, Harry carefully watches her in pure curiosity. Sophia is blinking at him with wide doe-like eyes, starlit pools of blue unmistakably peering from Harry’s eyes and his lips, the omega’s own little mouth parting just a little bit making Harry too late to catch on with what’s happening.

“May I kiss you?”

Sophia whispers as Harry feels his soul knocked-out of him and sent flying straight to the fucking moon in utter ecstasy at the honey dripping words that just left the omega’s spit-slick lips from the way her little tongue is poking out and wetting the pink plumpness just waiting for the go signal to be kissed from the once again stupefied alpha.

And because Harry is rendered love-dumb now, the alpha all but squeaks out a “yes”, barely even getting to tap his thighs to motion Sophia to come nearer towards him when the omega swiftly crawls to his lap in expert ease.

Harry narrowly misses taking a deep breath in, before Sophia has got her arms wrapped tightly around the nape of his neck, head tilting with her eyes closed as she closes the distance between them in one fluid motion. The first press of their lips elicits a simultaneous moan of pleasure from the two of them, Sophia’s legs encloses around Harry’s lax body even tighter, the latter’s hold on her hips raises upwards to hug her waist closer to his body.

The kiss isn’t a hungry and desperate one by any means, and yet Harry still feels breathless when Sophia disconnects their now tingling lips just inches away, her dilated eyes stares dreamily at him.

“That was my first kiss,” Sophia softly confesses, bringing one of her dainty hands to cradle the alpha’s cheek lovingly, with her thumb reverently swiping across his lips like she can’t believe she just kissed that and had checked ‘have my first kiss’ off her bucket list like she’s the lucky one.

Harry is the fucking lottery winner right now for he has finally gotten his mouth on hers!

Can you believe that? Unworthy alpha him has just got kissed by the sweetest most kindest creature in this planet and what good deed has Harry done in his past life to be given this honor of being Sophia’s first kiss?

“Was it a good first kiss?” is all that Harry can reply without sounding like a mixture of ungrateful that he thinks Sophia deserves someone much better than him to share her first kiss with, and proud with hints of innate possessiveness that he’s the first and only kiss the omega has had.

Sophia just slowly nods her head as if in a daze, before her familiar giggles erupt from her parted lips, “I feel like I’m levitating.”

Before Harry’s responding giggles could subside for him to sing the chorus of Dua Lipa’s ‘Levitating’ because he’s romantic (a cheeky shit) like that, Sophia cups both his cheeks and surges back on his lips in a much deeper kiss than their first one.

It’s quite intense this time around with Sophia’s tongue bravely meeting his own as she’s apparently a natural learner in the art of kissing. Why is Harry even surprise that Sophia can suck and caress his tongue so expertly in just her second kiss in her whole life when the omega is a fucking celestial being who can do anything she wishes. That’s the last thought Harry settles on his mind before he completely relaxes into Sophia’s unrelenting kisses, returning her little licks and gentle sucks with just as much vigor as the omega is languidly giving him.

Harry didn’t think that kissing can be this good, but fuck him, he’s converted now in believing that he will happily allow himself to drown in Sophia’s kisses and he’d be content in the afterlife.

Except that the longer Sophia passionately lathers his kissed-red lips and tingly-sucked tongue with all her magical loving and care, Harry doesn’t think he’d enjoy the afterlife if he ain’t get to have this with him. Talks about afterlife aside, Harry tries his hardest to harness back his love-lost wits to put a halt in these fast-moving kisses.

Dipping his hands to squeeze fairly tight on Sophia’s hips, Harry moves his lips away from the omega’s to murmur quickly but firmly, “I think we should take a breather, don’t want to go too fast with this aspect of our relationship.”

That makes the omega pout, they’re close enough that her wet protruded bottom lip touches Harry’s own, “I get you, but don’t wanna stop kissing; makes me feel so good, bunny.”

Harry doesn’t try to bite back the groan that leaves his chest, “Sunflower, you really shouldn’t be saying that if you don’t want to provoke my alpha to make you feel even more good. You haven’t met this horndog side of my alpha yet, so I’m kindly warning you right now to be careful with what you’re saying when we’re this close and I’m drunk with your kisses.”

Sophia laughs at that, her warm breath hitting Harry’s smiling lips as she brushes their noses together in an eskimos kiss, “I promise I’m not going to say anything that will provoke your inner horndog alpha anymore. Besides, I just had my first kiss with you moments ago. I don’t think I’m ready for anything beyond that.”

Sophia’s eyes return their nervous shade after saying that, bottom lip about to be bitten in a nervous tick when Harry moves faster and brings Sophia’s plump bottom lip inside his own mouth to suckle tenderly. He releases it a few seconds later with a wet popping sound, hands holding her body tight around him, and begins to run up and down her back in a soothing manner.

“Sunflower,” Harry sweetly calls to her ear when Sophia dropped her full weight atop of Harry’s body as she hides her embarrassed flushed face on the crook of his neck with her arms wounded around his neck, finding comfort in making herself feel small in Harry’s hold.

“I hope you know that I’m also not ready for us to do anything other than kissing and hugging tonight, right? Do you know that?”

When Sophia just hums out a noise not either agreeing or disagreeing with Harry’s question, the alpha then thinks that maybe his horndog of an alpha has been showing more of it’s devious personality than he had thought it was doing. If Sophia can’t give him a direct answer on this matter, then for sure, Harry must have been unclear with the extent of his intentions towards her. And that doesn’t sit right with Harry, at all.

Harry sighs, trying to keep his growing frustrations about himself quiet, “My sunflower, I’m sorry if I haven’t been clear enough with my intentions about our courting. To make myself crystal clear, I’m not expecting anything sexual related for tonight, and even the next night, or even the next few weeks or months after tomorrow. This part of our relationship is going to be done at your own pace, okay? I’m not going to be an alpha prick who’s going to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want, sexual or not.”

Harry says that to help ease whatever qualms Sophia might be harboring within her and is too timid to talk it out verbally with the alpha. Although after Harry’s assurance, the earlier pliant omega straddling his lap suddenly turns rigid under his hold.

“But what if my pace is too slow for you?” Sophia says with urgency in her tone, springing out from her hiding spot in Harry’s neck to look at him with trepidation written on her face.

“What do you mean?” Harry gently asks, not wanting to make the girl feel more at edge than he already knows she’s starting to get, “Sunflower, when I said at your own pace, I mean that in my utmost sincerity. Your consent in everything is important to me, so if you decide that you just want to kiss and cuddle for the entirety of our relationship this year, then I’d be down to do that without any complaints.”

Sophia whines out a frustrated noise, “That’s because you’re too nice for your own good. What if you’re just saying that right now, and then when our courting progresses and you feel that you have to hide and suppress your emotions cause you don’t want to pressure my slow pace? I don’t ever want to be the cause for you to not fully express yourself, bunny, I never want to be that person.” she shakes her head frantically, “I always want to make you feel comfortable and safe, that you can tell me anything and be wholly open with me. But that won’t be the case if you’re too kind about sparing my slow-moving pace. And then if I ever gain the confidence to finally do anything sexual with you besides kissing, what if, no, I already know that I wouldn’t be any good at it because you’re going to be my first. Which is not good because you’re a proper fit alpha that most probably has other omegas lining up for you in London but then you're too kind to say anything about my performance even if it’s going to be such a disappointment. I don’t want to disappoint you, bunny!”

Sophia’s honest rambling is so quick that the next thing Harry knows, he’s got an armful of a nervous-wreck of an omega who’s scent has changed from it’s sweet tones to that of the alarming aroma of distress alerting Harry’s core instincts to protect.

Hyper-aware of Sophia’s trembling body that has dropped back once again on Harry’s chest with her face tucked at the side of his neck, the alpha steels his thoughts to be able to properly tend to the distressed omega in his arms.

“Omega, may I please be allowed to scent you? I need to scent you to make you feel alright, okay sunflower?”

Feeling her wobbling lips on the skin of his collarbone, Harry doesn’t need any verbal response from the omega when Sophia herself goes straight for Harry’s scent gland to begin scenting him. That’s the best answer Harry needs for his question as he doesn’t hesitate to nose down the side of Sophia’s neck before burying his own nose in the omega’s scent gland.

Calming pheromones are released within the both of them as they languidly continue scenting one another, taking their fill of each other’s heavenly scents without any hesitation for the first time without fear of possibly crossing an imaginary line in the friendship by finding too much comfort in each other’s innate unique scents.

Harry leaves a tender kiss on Sophia’s scent gland, feeling her release a content purr of satisfaction as Harry gently noses at the skin of her neck, unable to comprehend how he was now granted the privilege to bask in the sweet omega’s glorious scent all he wants.

Though with much pressing matter to attend to, Harry pulls himself away from her neck, ready to completely settle Sophia’s grave worries.

“Sunflower, I need you to listen to me closely,” Harry places a kiss on top of Sophia’s blonde locks, situating his cheek comfortably on top of her head as Sophia continues to snuggle at his neck giving Harry her hum of having as a sign of her full attention of listening to him.

Harry begins by saying without any preamble, “I never, ever, want to hear you call yourself a disappointment ever again, alright? That’s not true, it can never be true, and it’s something I will actually fight tooth-and-nail with you if you try disagreeing with me. I also want you to know that I don’t care about anyone else besides you, whoever those people you’re referring to waiting for me in London is nothing compared to you, I don’t even know them and I don’t give a single fuck about them.”

Harry presses gentle kisses on Sophia’s temple to calm his racing heart, “You’re so special to me, sunflower. I don’t know if I can even properly tell or show you how important you are to me, but what I can promise to you is that you’re never going to disappoint me, especially when we have our first time.”

Sophia lets out a whimper on his neck, not out of panic this time, more flustered than anything. Harry soothes the omega by pressing his thumb delicately on her scent gland, resulting for the sweet girl to instantly relax in his arms once again.

“You’re everything to me that the sole fact that you’re ready to share yourself with me in the most intimate way possible, is already a magical experience for me. Sex is not about having the best performance, it’s a never a performance. It’s about connecting with your partner in a different, much deeper realm. Sex is supposed to make us get to know each other better, so sure, our first time might not be the ‘best’ technique-wise because I’m surely going to ejaculate five seconds in,” Sophia giggles at his joke which appeases Harry’s alpha for being able to comfort the omega, “but that’s the beauty of it. We’ll get to explore each other’s pleasures as well as the things that might not work or do not tickle our fancy. We’ll get to take care of each other and make sure that the both of us are safe and happy. That’s why you’re never going to be a disappointment to me, sunflower, inexperienced or not.”

And just to further emphasize his point, “My alpha already worships you if that’s also not clear enough.”

That makes Sophia shift her head just a little from Harry’s neck, peeking from underneath her messy bangs as Harry skillfully locks his gaze on her blue orbs, never one to not get lost in them obstructed by her hair or not. The alpha feels his heart stutter at the glowing light of appreciation being presented to him by Sophia’s ocean blues and perfect smile.

“Thank you, bunny.” she whispers in utmost sincerity, “My omega feels lucky to have the kindest alpha, ever.” and then she burrows back into Harry’s warmth like she didn’t just undoubtedly refer to Harry as ‘her alpha’ for the first time when said alpha still cannot even entirely believe everything that has happened tonight.

Like an unspoken agreement, Harry and Sophia return their focus back on the telly while still comfortably resting on the same position with the omega cuddled close in the alpha’s chest, sitting perfectly on his lap where Harry starts to think she truly belongs.

Harry considers that nobody really has to know how many times their attention from the movie was replaced with the interlocking of lips and tongue, or how he wouldn’t accept anyone’s comments on the possibly excessive scenting they’ve done to each other as they happily got lost in the perfect mixture of their scents.

Though most importantly, nobody needs to know how Harry suddenly sprang to his feet, carrying a shrieking Sophia as the alpha begins to sing and dance along with Hilary Duff in the Roman colosseum while the omega follows along soon after in absolute gleeful laughter with all of earlier worries completely erased by the dorky antics of her alpha.

And as Lizzie was about to take her final pose on the stage, Harry slowly stops his awful dance moves in lieu of placing both his hands on the similarly happy-dazed Sophia who also halts her countless times better dance moves.

Both falling into a rabbit hole of green pools and blue gems, Harry blissfully utters,

“This is what my dreams are made of.”

*~*~*

Thinking back in hindsight, why did Harry instantly correlate Sophia’s question: ‘if courting is still something people did’, to rejection when it’s an entirely valid question on it’s own.

You might be wondering what this courting entails, yeah? Well Harry kind of is too. Now that might sound alarming, but no need to fear when we all know Harry’s strong stance on: ‘fuck the traditionalist alpha pricks!’ and yes, that was for you, Brian!

So knowing that courting has its roots from the traditionalist mindset of alphas and omegas in their society, Harry is certainly keen on creating his own, much inclusive and progressive idea of courting.

Ever since he was a young child, the concept of courting is something young, cherubic curls Harry had vowed to do for his future mate. Although even then, he had been against the notion of doing it for the sake of being macho and exhibiting all your manly traits to make an omega feel like they don’t have to do any single thing anymore because their alpha is there to take care of them.

That’s fucked up, Harry thought back then and still shares the same answer until today.

First of all, everyone is composed of both female and masculine traits. For an alpha to suppress one side of their being and only focus on the other, is simply not healthy when it’s a known life fact that ‘everything should be in moderation.’ The same saying goes with omegas finding their mates just to end up doing nothing and turn out to be spoiled people.

Relationships should be about honesty, openness, and being able to give and take from each other. If one is to use the traditional ways of courting, then Harry thinks it’s not a relationship they’re trying to build. Harry never wants to make his mate feel like they no longer have a right to be independent, and they must depend on Harry for everything since he’s the alpha in their relationship.

Thus, it was only logical for the alpha to formulate his very own much simple and inclusive blueprint to courting the kindest and prettiest omega ever known on this planet. Harry wants to show that showering his omega with gifts doesn’t have to come from the perspective of wanting to simply spoil and train them to rely for everything on the alpha. It must come from the alpha’s hard work making these courting gifts special for both people and not just a ‘means to an end’ of winning an omega’s answer.

The first step in Harry’s courting is to make sure that it’s not only Sophia that should experience the wooing of the alpha, but also the important people, or in Sophia’s case, the important animal in her life.

Since humans are much easier to understand and gauge the usual standards of what they find pleasing, Harry starts his courting by getting different flower arrangements sent to Sophia’s loved ones, aka: Fiona and John. No matter how simple the gesture might be, Harry absolutely loved John’s reaction of also receiving something.

“It’s a yes for me already, son.” John joyfully exclaimed in the FaceTime call Harry gets after Sophia’s parents have received the first arrangement of flowers delivered to them. The timing was honestly on point, John calls to thank Harry when the latter was currently finishing his early morning sketching in Sophia’s bakery.

And just for the record, Harry had obviously personally delivered the sweet omega baker’s own flower arrangement. Don’t tell Fiona and John, but the arrangement he got made for Sophia was a few quids more expensive than theirs.

“Dad!” Sophia squawked while Harry laughed beside her as they both watched for the nth time John waft the floral aromas of Harry’s little present. “You can’t say that because you’re not the one he’s really courting!”

John just shook his head in amusement at her daughter’s response, “Princess, why did you even require him to court you? The lad is basically gone for you ages ago, like the first time your mum and I met him ages ago.”

Harry chuckles at the honest question, nose scrunching in fondness at the pink flush that formed on Sophia’s face as the latter responded, “That’s not ages ago dad, please check your calendar.” and it was Harry’s turn to squawk a laugh at her cheeky answer, “Besides, I didn’t require him. H wanted to do the courting when I didn’t even know that the notion is still practiced.” The two share a smile of understanding at the memories implied in those last words.

And it’s true, Harry had been the one adamant with the courting. So adamant that he can’t believe he also got Tilly a toy as a courting gift.

Now Harry’s not stingy or anything, would gladly buy Tilly something if Sophia (or out of his secret cat-infatuated side of himself) had requested for him to do so. It’s just that this gift is a much more personal present to give.

The idea first came to Harry when he realized for the first time that the name of Sophia’s bakery, ‘The Hunny Pot’ was actually referenced from the iconic yellow bear who’s the only one that can rock a red crop top and nothing else. Apparently, baby Sophia had loved Winnie the Pooh, which she thinks has a lot to do with being exposed at an early age to anything that has relation to bees and honey. But either way, Sophia had grown-up still completely fond of the children’s character that she named her own baby bakery from Pooh's poorly spelled pot of honey.

Harry was blind-sided by that information for some reason, that added with Sophia’s relentless teasing that he’s a silly alpha for only realizing that the name of her bakery that he goes to every morning is from a classic story, Harry had found himself lost in a spiral of finding the perfect knitted stuffie of Pooh to give Sophia.

It’s really just out of pure lock that upon the numerous tabs of online stores that Harry has opened on his laptop, he finds one that’s selling knitted Piglet stuffies for cats. If that wasn’t a sign for Harry to buy his frenemy a gift, then he doesn’t care because he bought it regardless.

To be honest, Tilly didn’t even display any adverse reaction - well nothing out of the ordinary so an annoyed snarl is really nothing - when Harry had personally gifted her the Piglet stuffie. The grey furrball wasn’t even repulsed by his scent that’s enclosed within the knitted thread of the toy after Harry had scented it.

Her mother, on the other hand, had a vastly different reaction than her cat child.

Sophia had not placed the Pooh stuffie down anywhere that day Harry had first gifted it to her. It was always in her hold with the omega’s little button nose constantly buried on the soft material of the stuffie as she without a care in the world took handfuls upon handfuls of Harry’s scent from the stuffie.

“Bunny, this is one of your best ideas yet.” Sophia had firmly and sweetly told him while Harry giggling gave back the freshly scented Pooh stuffie back to the omegas arms.

It hadn’t been a full day since the alpha gave her the scented toy and Sophia had already come to his corner nook in the bakery asking to re-scent it. Harry was honestly astonished since personally scented materials usually hold it’s smell for a minimum of one week.

That was a rather successful first step in Harry’s courting which encouraged him to start with phase two of his courting blueprint.

The second item on his courting agenda is to bake Sophia her all-time favorite honey goodie: the classic corn muffin with honey butter.

Harry’s not shit at cooking, he’s pretty decent thanks to Anne who had forced him as a young child to help her around the kitchen. That’s why this isn’t really something that would be a means to show Sophia that he’d battle the hell-fires of cooking just for her. It’s more of, ‘When you’re tired or in need of help, you can call for me, your alpha, to make you your favorite honey goodie. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it for you all the time because you love cooking it yourself and I’d never take that away from you. I’m just doing this to show you that when you want, you have the option to trust me to make you something you like.’

Harry thinks it was a sound plan with an appropriate reasoning behind it. It didn’t even cause him any fuss when he bought his ingredients at the grocery near his place, nor was it difficult to take the long drive to Sophia’s parents house to get fresh honey from them. Don’t think Harry has forgotten the informative conversation Sophia had given him about deceiving honey brands that can be found on the shelves of commercial stores.

Wanting to really surprise the omega, Harry decided to wake-up at the crack of dawn that day, which says a lot since he already leaves his bed in the early hours of the morning on an ordinary day. But to be able to give Sophia the freshest corn muffin with honey butter with the most time she can have to enjoy it, Harry has to bake it at three AM since the bakery opens at six and the morning shift is the only shift that he can monopolize Sophia’s time.

With ‘Positions’ by Ariana Grande playing on his bluetooth speaker, Harry carefully glided across his kitchen to make these corn muffins. He definitely lacks the natural finesse that Sophia possessed when he watches her bake this, but Harry thinks he still does a mighty job by not cutting his fingers when he was knifing out the corn from its cob. Considering how clumsy he can be, and that it was fucking three AM in the morning and no one in his neighborhood is awake, having his fingers intact is a win for Harry.

What’s more of a win is that he’s honey butter didn’t melt from the not-so-short walk he did from his house to the cottage bakery. Jogging there would be much faster, but he was carrying precious cargo and he can’t risk tripping over nothing and seeing his corn muffins fall to the side of the street in a pathetic mess.

And thankfully, Sophia didn’t think his efforts on baking for her is anything near pathetic.

The omega had chortled a thorough sound of surprise, eyes almost falling off its sockets as she shockingly looked at the perfectly boxed eight corn muffins with the separate container for the honey butter which Harry even took the time to draw some bees on its label.

“Bunny, you didn't?!”

Harry smirked at her fixed state of surprise (pats on the back, pats on the back for you H!), winking as he replied, “But yes, I totally did.”

One second they were staring at each other in varying degrees of surprise and fond like two idiots who need more sleep. And then the next, Sophia was springing to Harry’s arms, the omega had clung to him like an adorable koala as she peppered his face with dozens upon dozens of kisses. Harry is quite biased with the strawberry flavor of her lip gloss, so the alpha takes his time to savor the kisses her lips directed towards his own because he’s already addicted to the sweetness of its taste and the plumpness of its shape.

Harry giggled out in Sophia’s lips when the latter had not shown any sign of stopping any time soon with her sweet assault towards his face, “Sunflower, the honey butter might melt.”

And with just that one utterance, Sophia was springing back out of Harry’s arms this time around and heading straight to the muffins. Her apparent excitement should have notified Harry that her first reaction upon taking that first bite of the corn muffins and honey butter that he made must be something more extra than what she had been currently displaying.

So truth be told, there was Harry trying his best not to pop any stiffy as Sophia had moaned with her head thrown back in her shoulder as she munched her first bite of the muffin.

“Heavenly, that’s absolutely heavenly, bunny!” Sophia complimented further, not making Harry’s situation any better as he feels his traitorous (and pitiful) dick chubbing up just a little bit on his skinnies as Sophia continues her heavenly sounds of appreciation for Harry’s baking.

Not wanting to ruin the moment for the omega, Harry decided to busy himself with preparing their cuppas because not only does he need a distraction from his unfortunate situation down south, but Sophia is certainly distracted and seems to be in a whole different world as she continues to eat Harry’s gift. Besides, Harry feels happy whenever he gets to prepare their morning cuppas no matter how simple the task may be, it shows that Sophia trusts him to go about his own way in her kitchen.

And that thought stopped right there for Harry because a new thing that he discovered during the period of their courting is that talking about trust, making the omega feel comfortable and safe, or anything remotely related to domesticity, gives the alpha love boners.

Does he need those right now? Preferably not.

While despite those hard parts (literally) in that second step of courting, Harry still thinks he did brill. That day ended with Sophia pouting at him as she told him off on why the alpha didn’t stop her when he noticed that before breakfast shift was even over, she already ate a total of six muffins.

“Now I only have two left and I don’t think that’s going to be enough to satisfy me.” Sophia whined which made Harry giggle at her adorable nature without even the need for her to try.

“Aren’t you going to bake the same corn muffins later? You can just eat some of those once you finish the one’s I made you.”

“It’s not the same!” Sophia groans almost frighteningly sounding like Tilly whenever the alpha scratches her back (progress!) just a little too much for her liking, “You’re forgetting the keywords, bunny: the once you made for me! The muffins later will not be baked by you.”

And because Harry thinks Sophia is smartly catching-up on the extent of his speech during that night in her cottage of his alpha already worshiping her omega, Sophia adds with a barely concealed sly smirk,

“Or are you?”

Let’s just say Harry can apparently substitute for Georgie or Sabrina when one of them can’t make it to the bakery.

Whipped, absolutely whipped like the third batch of honey butter Harry made that day.

For the third step in Harry’s agenda of courting, the idea was actually inspired by the omega herself without any prior explanation as to why the alpha did this third type of wooing.

Ever since that fateful and monumental night that Harry likes to call, ‘The night I finally understood for myself what dreams are made of as said by Hilary Duff, the queen herself.’ (which Sophia had reacted with, ‘hey now, hey now, you can’t seriously be serious, bunny?’) where the omega had shamelessly worn his used shirt for the remainder of their night which may or may not revolved around making-out with each other in their very romantic and cozy pillow fort, Sophia had expressed her liking for wearing Harry’s silk shirts in the confines of her own home.

Expressed as in: had asked for Harry to bring her some of his silk shirts that should be freshly scented by the alpha or it’s a no go for her.

Because his possessive nature has only been ignited further now that his courting Sophia, Harry dreamily nods to her request like a love-dazed puppy running back and forth fetching a damn stick waiting for a reward.

Harry’s reward came in the form of the blissful smile on Sophia's face the first time Harry had followed with his agreement to her request, sweetly confessing that she likes wearing his scent on her skin whenever she’s at home because it’s the only time they’re ever truly apart from each other.

Not wanting to overwhelm the omega, Harry really bit back from saying, ‘I’d move into your house in a heartbeat if you never want to be apart from my side again. Tilly can go scratch me all she wants but I don’t care as long as you’re always happy with me and not missing me.’

That response was without a doubt, going to overwhelm the timid omega. So Harry settles for the next best thing he can to show her he’s all for Sophia wanting a piece of him whenever and wherever she is.

Harry decided to gift Sophia with one of his silk shirts (the omega got all frowny with Harry when he had suggested to buy the omega her own brand new silk shirts but just in the alpha’s size) which the alpha tried his best to find the one that closely resembled the pastel yellow tone of her lovely bakery apron.

At first Harry didn’t know what special touch he could add to the silk shirt that would make it a courting appropriate present. He was in the middle of finalizing his sketch of the second piece for the new collection, the sheer dress now had it’s fine details of white hearts at the trimmings of the layered skirt area inspired by the omega’s loungewear that she wore ‘The night I finally understood for myself what dreams are made of as said by Hilary Duff, the queen herself.’ , when it hits Harry like a brilliant lighting bolt.

When Sophia first saw the stitching of ‘Styles’ Sunflower’ on the upper left part of the silk button-up shirt, she said: “Do I even want to know why?”

Her sassy remark makes Harry gasp dramatically from his standing position in front of Sophia who was sitting on her couch with her new courting present in her lap, “Excuse me? I made that all by myself and you’re giving me that sassy attitude? I’ll let you know everyone else with adequate knowledge about fashion would be shitting themselves now if they got a hand stitched, and freshly scented piece by Harry Styles himself!”

Sophia knew his highfalutin words are nothing but cheeky and joking so she laughed accordingly, her head thrown back to her shoulders. “Well I’m going to start shitting myself if you don’t stop acting like such an obnoxious alpha!”

“I didn’t even want to act that way but you provoked me by giving me such a sassy reaction!” Harry playfully bantered back.

Sophia giggled at the faux frown on Harry’s forehead and that pout strategically formed on his lips, “I couldn’t help myself. This is without a doubt, a very alpha-y thing for you to do. It’s like you're claiming me by giving me this shirt.”

“I don’t know if you haven’t noticed it yet but my ravenous appetite is not because I was compensating for not being able to eat when I was younger, it’s because I’m an alpha and it’s in my genetics to always be hungry, and apparently, having strong possessive and owning tendencies.”

Harry’s teasing earned him a classic eye-roll from the omega who had quipped back around a smirk of her own, “I didn’t say anything bad about it, or that I don’t like it. So there’s no need for you to tease me that hard.”

“So you do like it?” Harry couldn’t help but fish-out for more, especially when the omega not-so-discreetly began rubbing the soft fabric of Harry’s gift on her bare shoulders with her body adorned by a simple cream colored strappy vest.

Whatever cheekiness Sophia’s features may have contained earlier, it quickly disappeared upon the alpha’s question and was replaced by her usual soft tones, “Of course I like it, bunny,” an in a much quieter tone, “I’m sure you know that it’s also written in the biology of my secondary gender that I’m not exactly opposed to feelings of possessiveness.”

Peeking from underneath her lashes and wispy blonde bangs, Sophia focused directly on Harry’s own gaze with the alpha’s treasured blush gracing the omega’s dimpled cheeks.

“It’s in my biology to like to feel owned, and to be able to exert the same emotion to my mate by being in the other position of being the one doing the owning.”

Sophia’s vulnerable response was honest to god, like a breath of fresh air from Harry.

No matter how assured he is that their courting is very much consensual and no one is doing anything the other does not want to. It feels reassuring to hear from the person your courting that you’re not the only one who’s constantly naturally tapping in their innate and almost primitive and animalistic emotions.

It’s safe to say that after that exchange, Harry no longer feels guilt within him whenever he visibly preens in pride whenever Sophia wears one of his silk shirts in her cottage bakery. To his rapture, the omega even returns his preening every time she wears the specific pastel yellow shirt of his. The alpha bravely presses a gentle kiss on the stitched, ‘Styles’ Sunflower’ whispering afterwards in total reverence, “My omega sunflower.”

It’s quite a shame Sophia makes Harry preen harder every time she replies back in the same admiration, “You’re my alpha bunny too.”

So with all the open acts of preening and recognizing each other as their own, Harry had also made it his job to make sure that his omega sunflower is never cold.

Weeks of seeing the omega baker wearing his thin silk shirts in her bakery, Harry noticed the specific pattern every afternoon. Sophia returns from the back room no longer adorned by Harry’s shirt but was now wearing one of her pastel cardigans out of her vast collection of those soft and warming materials.

Harry doesn’t know what possessed him, but for the fourth item on his courting blueprint, the alpha finds himself knocking on the door of Sophia’s childhood home, Fiona greeting him brightly as she asked her fellow alpha if he had brought with him all the materials they needed for today’s session.

Because apparently, Harry was going to learn how to knit a cardigan for Sophia; plain and simple as that.

The alpha quickly learns that it's anything but that.

“Shitting hell,” Harry let out in frustration as his abnormally big alpha fingers failed to successfully curl the yarn on the rounded knitting needles.

Fiona chuckled from her position right in front of Harry, the two having decided to knit outside at the patio which Harry is now thankful for as the cool England air would be a good reprieve from his steadily growing heat of cuss words.

“I hate to break it to you love,” Fiona smiled at Harry with her own knitting work placed to a pause, “but you’re just at the very first step. Casting on is nothing to the knit and purl I’ll be teaching you in a while once you get your yarn on your needles.”

Harry should have taken that as a warning. But he was his regular stubborn and highly determined alpha so he didn’t see the clear out Fiona was trying to give him earlier.

By the time afternoon tea was brought to them by John, Harry was a downright crazed man who only knew the words, ‘knit, purl, knit, purl, knit, purl, knit, purl’ as his sore hands continued to do such. Harry was so lost in the notion that Fiona’s call for him to take a break resulted in him rudely brushing her off with a groan of ‘No! Knit, purl, knit, purl!’

Thank the heavens Fiona and John had only laughed at his impolite response, most probably aware of the deep alpha spiral Harry has found himself in for the purpose of arduously finishing something that his omega needs, the feeling familiar to them being alphas themselves.

Harry fortunately got his bearings back and apologized profusely to the mother of the omega she was courting for his highly impolite behavior. But true to the carefree nature of Fiona, the female alpha just pushed Harry’s cuppa into his direction telling him to give his hands a break and fill his stomach with some biscuits before Sophia comes knocking on the door ready to berate her and John for not feeding Harry properly, regardless if they’re her parents.

Harry shook his head in a giggle after he took a relieving sip of his afternoon tea, “I don’t think she has a mean bone in her body, Fiona.”

Fiona hummed around her own cuppa, gave the younger alpha a knowing look, “Not saying she was going to have a talk with John and I from a mean perspective. It’s more out of an overprotective, innately caring, loving bone?”

And Harry could go behind that.

Could certainly believe without a doubt that it was from said ‘loving bone’ that Sophia had strongly chastised Harry when he had finally gifted the omega the finished baby pink cardigan that thankfully, actually resembled and functioned as one, no matter the countless mistakes Harry had encountered while making it.

“You didn’t have to do this, bunny.” Sophia for the nth time repeated with the unmoving frown still etched on her pretty face, her tone laced heavily with concern, “Look at how bruised and sore your hands are!”

Harry doesn’t even have to look down to have a clear picture (and clear feeling) of how poorly and unfortunate his hands look right now. Doing the casting on, the knit and purl crazy unending loop, casting off, seaming all the separate pieces together, and meticulously doing the final touches to the cardigan, has deeply ingrained in Harry that no matter the throbbing pain he was feeling, it didn’t matter and did not compare to the burning need Harry had to be able to provide warmth for his omega.

So Sophia’s words of reproach that he knows stems from her concern for him, did not ruin the alpha’s ecstatic mood for not only being successful in doing his first (and fucking last) knitting piece, but that too of not making a fool of himself in front of the omega. Nothing stopped Harry from reaching out his aching hands to pick the discarded baby pink cardigan as he held it up for Sophia to try on.

With a cheeky smile, Harry wiggled his eyebrows up and down in a ridiculous nature, wanting the omega to break-free from her worried aura and change to that beautiful, sunshine energy of hers.

“Sunflower, come on,” Harry coaxed, “Come try my newest creation? For me, please?”

Sophia sighed, coming to Harry’s space to indulge his kind request, though not completely out of her worried state just yet as she verbally confirmed it with a pout present, “I’m still upset that you work yourself so hard without needing to. I have a collection of cardigans to begin with, bunny.”

“But you don’t have one made by the Harry Styles,” Harry proudly said, gently fixing the fit of the cardigan on Sophia’s petite form, “and don’t get too cocky about the fact that you’re the only one that has a knitted cardigan by the Harry Styles.”

That made Sophia snort an unattractive sound, “I don’t think I should be the one getting worried about being cocky, the Harry Styles.”

Harry just gave her a cheeky smile, pinching Sophia’s round cheeks, “You love it, now go give me a twirl in your new lovely cardigan.”

And because it’s a courting gift after all, and that Sophia actually lights-up in whatever piece of cardigan she sees, the sweet giggling omega does a few twirls for Harry in the middle of her living room floor.

“Wooh!” Harry exaggeratedly hoots, “So ravishing, so graceful looking, bloody bewitching that cardigan looks on you, sunflower!”

So bewitching in fact that the omega has somehow put a spell on Harry as he found himself making other things for her. This time around, it’s in the form of various honey bath products for his fifth courting matter of business.

“Harry, I swear to god do not remove those rubber gloves cause you’re going to infect these bath products with your germs.” Anne scolded him.

Earlier it made sense that Harry goes knocking on his mother’s door, this time to ask for her help since she is an enthusiast for such honey skincare products. But now he’s kind of having serious second thoughts about that since it’s the fourth consecutive time she had called him out.

“Mum, we all have germs.” Harry shook his head but agrees nonetheless, molding the bar of honey soap with the fucking gloves on as he watched it slip from his hold again because the fucking gloves are not helping.

“Not lovely and pure, sweet Soph,” Anne corrected him in confidence, “That kind omega is simply exquisite that there’s no way she has any single smidge of germs on her.”

Harry realized that he could get all the telling-off from his mother over the simplest things, as long as he gets to continue listening to his lovely mother talking his ears-off about how simply exquisite his omega is.

In Harry’s opinion, making these assortment of honey bath products was much easier than knitting a cardigan. Fashion and sewing might be a strong suit of his, but concocting these cleansing and soothing products as he harnessed his inner science geek, Harry was not worried for the well-being of his hands. Don’t tell Anne but the gloves definitely went past the purpose of getting the products contaminated with his germs, but it also protected Harry’s ringed fingers from any more bruising.

Sophia would surely give him her own telling-off if Harry impedes on the progress of his healing hands. Sophia had been religiously lathering his sore hands with aloe vera every morning that he arrives at the bakery, and every evening when he leaves.

Speaking of the sweet and hardworking omega baker, Harry was unsure if it was a fortunate or unfortunate chance that Sophia happened to be bone-tired when Harry had planned to give her his last courting present. Though no matter the answer, Harry made it his mission to give his amazing and diligent omega the ultimate relaxing experience with his personally crafted honey bath products.

Because Sophia had been busy at the bakery, Harry was successfully able to ask for a spare key to her cottage home in the guise of leaving the bakery earlier than usual so he could head straight to Sophia’s home kitchen and cook them some dinner. Never one to decline any of his cooking offers especially when she’s already too tired to do it herself, Sophia lovingly kissed him on the lips and whispered her kind request of wanting pasta carbonara with bits of honeyed bacon into it.

Harry was never capable of denying anything the omega wants. So after sprucing-up Sophia’s bathroom with a scattering of tea light candles around the space, not forgetting scented candles and just a good amount of rose petals thrown aesthetically without it being a pain in the arse to clean up later, the alpha proceeded to slave-away in the kitchen to make Sophia her requested dinner.

With their ankles twirled around each other under the table, Harry began his pampering of Sophia as he busied himself feeding the both of them with one fork and plate for two, the glass of water never far away from his reach whenever Sophia needed a sip. The omega positively preening at all of Harry’s attention, probably thought this was part of his courting agenda. It technically wasn’t, but Harry would not cut himself short and by boxing himself in this courting blueprint when he just naturally wants to dote on her in whatever simple or extravagant means he can manage.

“I’m just going to go shower,” Sophia said, “but you can stay in my room bunny while I’m getting ready for our movie night.”

“Sure, love.” Harry replied simply, not wanting to show his real excitement of what’s waiting for Sophia in her bathroom, “I’ll go get settled in your room while flicking through NetFlix to pick what movie we can watch, Any requests for tonight’s movie, sunflower?”

Sophia smiled at him with gratefulness seeping all over her tired features, “None really. I already chose our dinner, which was absolutely brill, by the way.” she winked and then giggled at the chuckling alpha, “I think it’s only right you go pick our movie.”

Harry whistled at her response, “That’s a very dangerous thing to let out, sunflower. What if I chose a scary movie?”

“I don’t think you will, bunny,” Sophia eagerly replied in a tone of obvious conviction, Harry waits at the edge of Sophia’s bed where he was sitting in great anticipation when the omega had turned around to open the door of her bathroom, “you’re just going to scare yourself a- OHMYGOD!”

And she went ahead to scare herself when she saw Harry’s surprise waiting inside for her ensuite. Harry couldn’t reel-in the amused smirk setting free on his face when Sophia quickly turned around to face the alpha with her ocean blues wide and open like an actual vast ocean on the beach, little pink mouth parted all shocked and pretty.

“Bunny, what’s this?” she wildly motioned with her hands towards her bathroom that was currently basking in the warm glow of the lit tea lights.

Harry raised his both arms up as he shrugged his shoulders with his head pointed towards his right shoulder in a cute tilt, “Surprise?”

“What do you mean?” Sophia asked in pure puzzlement, “Wasn’t dinner a surprise already?”

“Can I not have two surprises for the omega I’m courting?”

“Why do you have to be so sweet and so thoughtful?”

“Why are we having a conversation with questions?” Harry laughed.

Sophia laughed heartily along with him and replied, “I don’t know, because you just did such a good job shocking your omega with two surprises in one night?”

That made Harry’s smile turn soft, “Sunflower, this conversation will just go on and on cause you know I never back down in any banter of ours. But, I think you should really enjoy my actual surprise for tonight. That dinner awhile ago wasn’t really part of my courting plan but I’m really grateful that you appreciated it nonetheless.”

“I always appreciate whatever you do for me,” Sophia said with her head tilted in that cute way Harry loves as they stared at each other with an absolute dreamy tint in their eyes.

“I know, I feel it.” Harry giggled, “I also know that you should go take a bath already and use the honey bath products mum and I made.”

The alpha reached below the omega’s bed to retrieve the wicker basket that contained the little arrangement of his honey goodies: honey bar soap, honey bubble bath, honey face mask, and honey shampoo. He placed the basket on his lap and shared to Sophia what each product was, cheekily remarking that if she wanted to know what the benefits of each product were that went beyond just cleaning your body, then Sophia should just ring Anne to get those information because Harry can’t be bothered to remember the difference between the antioxidant and antibacterial properties of honey.

“I do recommend you use every single product in conjunction with each other to achieve the ultimate honey relaxing experience.” Harry offered a silent Sophia who had remained stock-still in her position outside her opened bathroom door, dreamy gaze directed at the alpha.

Before Harry could have risen up to give her the wicker basket containing all the products, Sophia stops him from even moving a muscle at her question.

“Will you join me in the bath while testing these honey goodies?”

Harry felt his face mimic the raging blush that bloomed on Sophia’s cheek after asking such a forward question.

‘What is it with this innocent and darling of an omega always trying to make me burst out an artery from all her very genuine but brazen-faced questions’, Harry asked his muddled brain that was filled with nothing but a never-ending loop of the omega’s question.

And because Harry has already had the wonderful taste of what happens when one stops faffing around in life, the alpha says ‘fuck it.’ in his head as he nodded an approval to Sophia’s question. The omega let out a pleased sound that’s near to her usual purr of utter contentment as Harry stood-up from his sitting position and made the short way to be directly in front of the omega.

With one arm holding the wicker basket, Harry used his free hand to put gentle fingers on Sophia’s chin as the alpha carefully raised her downturned head for her to be able to look directly into Harry’s eyes as he spoke.

“Are you sure this is what you want, sunflower?” Harry softly whispered in the quiet of the room.

When the omega just kept her gaze unmoving on his eyes without any concrete reply, Harry began to reassure her, “You don’t have to invite me with you in the bath if you’re uncomfortable about it. I’m not expecting anything in return from my gifts for you, and I just want you to enjoy them without worrying that I need some sort of retribution; just want my omega to be happy and comfortable.”

Sophia breathed out a deep breath after that, gentle hand moved to cradle Harry’s hold on her chin as she transferred it to cup her full cheek, eyes filled with a sense of sureness, Sophia replied, “I want you to join me. Not because I feel like I owe you or something, I just know it would make me really happy and really comfortable if you join me in the bath tonight.”

What can Harry do when the omega had basically used his own words against him? Nothing but to comply is what he found himself doing.

“Okay,” Harry simply replied with a smile of relief, while it also fully dawned on him what was about to happen, including the technicalities and possible implications behind it, “But I kind of didn’t bring any swimming trunks with me to wear because this was the last of the things I’ve expected happening tonight.”

His slightly awkward giggling resulted in a confused look on Sophia’s face, “What’s the swimming trunks for?”

More awkward giggling at that, Harry hating the way his face was flushed in deep pink just from the innocent question of the omega, “Um, like..I need it because we’re going to be inside the same bathtub? And like..I didn’t want to assume that we’re going to do it like..completely bare and naked?”

“Oh.” Sophia rapidly blinked at him when it also registered within her, cotton candy pink blush on her cheeks have evolved to a firetruck red if Harry wanted to be more specific, “Yeah, your question totally made sense.” she giggled sheepishly with her eyes having a hard time to meet Harry’s own.

“It’s totally fine if my lack of swimming trunks changes your resolve about this an-”

“No.” Sophia swiftly interrupted him, blue eyes back with its determined glint staring Harry down to his soul, “No, my answer is still the same. We’ll just get in the tub together with both our undergarments on, I’m good and comfortable with that.”

Despite the deep blush that remained on the omega’s face, Harry didn’t dare question Sophia’s ardent statement. Instead, Harry motioned his arm for the omega to do the honors of entering the bathroom first with a smile of reassurance thrown her way. The nerves that the alpha was feeling rise-up his system, was greatly soothed when Sophia returned his soft smile with the same tone of reassurance and that everything was a green light for her.

The burning scented candles enveloped the room with the aroma of calmness which Harry kept breathing in as he waited for the tub to be filled with warm water, the container of honey bubble bath waiting in his hand. He could hear Sophia shuffling behind him, trying to steady his still present nerves by breathing in more artificial calming smells from the candle as to distract himself from the omega that was most probably undressing herself from her dainty work clothes and leaving only her undergarments on.

Harry could definitely keep his cool, should definitely keep his cool because if he undresses later and the first thing Sophia saw was his hard-on, then the innocent thing might actually go running for the hills because she hasn’t even done anything and Harry already has a ‘few strokes in and ready to pop a knot’ type of stiffy.

Harry sighed a deep breath as he filled the tub with a good amount of the honey bubble bath, knowing that he can’t stall time and gather his wits to make his body react in a not-so sexual way from the prospect of seeing Sophia barely covered in clothing. Just to kick things off, it was only proper in Harry’s mind that he also undressed while not facing Sophia, so as to not overwhelm her.

Slowly, he removed every piece of today’s clothing away from his skin, folded it neatly and placed it on one of the surfaces in Sophia’s bathroom where it won’t get wet.

Left with only his black briefs on his lower half, Harry doesn’t want to seem like an idiot to the all-too quiet omega and keep standing with his back facing her just because he doesn’t want her to see such a natural biological reaction in his down south area.

As Harry likes to say in situations like this, “Fuck it.”

Harry turned around and was hit everywhere by Sophia’s ethereal beauty like it’s the first time he’s seeing her all over again. And in some ways that is true, it’s the first time Harry has seen the sweet omega baker in only her soft sage green matching little panties and bra.

It should be a shame that as a renowned lingerie designer like himself, Harry has seen enough people in their fucking underwear for his chosen career that could allow him to pin-point and explain what’s working and what’s not.

But when it came to that moment that his eyes lingered on the timid tilt of Sophia’s head, arms crossed behind her back in a nervous display, shoulders slightly hunched-up pushing her supple and perfectly weighted looking breasts more gorgeously in the confines of her bra, green eyes trailed down at the cute and small pudge of her soft looking stomach, gaze further dipped down to her curvaceous hips and tiny little panties perfectly guarding her utmost sweet innocence away from Harry’s wandering lucky eyes, all the alpha could utter in a tone of unbridled wonder was one word.

“Beautiful.”

He didn’t even rack his brain for any synonyms for such a common word and yet the timid omega standing just a few feet away from him, actually purred and preened in contentment at his simple and highly unoriginal utterance.

“Bunny..” Sophia trailed off in a breathless whisper, goosebumps rose on Harry’s skin without even having touched the soft ivory skin of the omega on his own.

“Omega, come here, please.” Harry gently directed the dreamy dazed Sophia with his hands finally connecting lightly with the skin of her arm and waist, as the alpha helped his omega to step inside the bath.

“Careful, my omega sunflower.” Harry said, giving Sophia time to position herself comfortably around the mass of bubbling, honey fragrant water.

Sophia whipped her head backwards to look at Harry, a little pout formed on her pink lips, “Alpha, join me here, please, bunny. Settle on my back, please.”

The undeniable tone of need laced around her kind and polite words, absolutely rumbled at Harry’s chest in an outright mess of pleased and aroused emotions.

The alpha languidly complied to Sophia’s request, every single notion of ‘fuck it’ he let out in his head as he found his way on Sophia’s back inside the bathtub, no longer giving a single fuck if Sophia feels his hard cock straining his briefs on the dimples of her back when he gathers her whole form in his arms in a tight embrace.

Let her feel it, he concluded within himself. This was him wanting to be open for his omega, this was his alpha surrendering and being vulnerable for his sunflower omega.

With Harry’s back resting at the edge of the tub, arms wounded tightly around Sophia’s stomach with his big paws mindlessly caressing the bare skin of her thighs, up to her arms and collarbones, the omega was completely pliant from head to to with her full back pressed perfectly on Harry’s bare and strong torso.

Sophia’s own dainty fingers began exploring and mapping around every visible patch of skin of Harry’s. It almost felt tickling as Sophia’s soft touches glided to every nook and cranny of his exposed body, all for her taking. The alpha allowed her to rest her face sidewards on his collarbones to nose along his defined jawline and drop kisses wherever she pleased.

It didn’t take that long for the two to find their respective scent glands and began keenly scenting one another, taking little breaks for their lips to meet in the middle.

They let themselves get drunk in each other’s comforting scents, lose themselves in their passionate little kisses, licks, nips, and suckles, submitted to the grounding feeling of their unrelenting hold, touch, caress on each other’s skins gave them, and the tranquility of their current atmosphere in the warmly lit bathroom, has added to their perfectly addicting energies.

If Harry forgot the rest of his courting gifts because of all that consuming emotions mentioned above,

Fuck it.

"Yes please, Bunny."

It might have been an inevitable factor for Harry Styles to start his own beauty brand. As someone as pretty as him, people would definitely want to buy something that he made that can help them for even just a small fraction to look as good as him. Which yes, that includes having pretty nails as him.

Sophia would be losing her shit as well if he weren’t her husband already and she was out there trying to find the right type of people who takes good care of their nails because let’s face it, it says a lot about someone’s view on cleanliness if they don’t value the state of their nails or have no semblance of any nail care.

And to be completely honest, spouses or not, Sophia is still losing her shit at finally reaching the day where her husband’s new passion project is finally being unveiled and officially launched for people to consume and enjoy.

Sophia had been at every step of the process in Harry being the founder of this new beauty/skincare brand. From the moment he first pitched the idea to her when he was getting his nails done for the Watermelon Sugar music video shoot, to holding his hand while he proposed the idea with Jeff and his team a few months later while in quarantine.

It was a joy seeing Harry navigate this part of the business world that he has yet to dip his toes in, seeing her husband so excited with stories and new learnings to tell her at the end of the day, was a definite highlight that Sophia would miss now that Pleasing is officially being birthed for the world to see.

What she won’t miss however, is the energy of stress, looks of frowning faces, and voice so tired of Harry that Sophia had to actually intervene and demand his husband to take several days off in their house while she deals with the remaining matters herself.

The ever doting husband that he is, Harry obviously had begun to protest saying that he’d rather be stressed than for his wife to be the one to take the load and be the one bone-tired at the end of the day. Sophia had just laughed which caused Harry to pout even harder, she reassured him that regardless if she took his business matters, she would still be bone-tired at the end of the day. That’s what happens when you’re raising a one year old baby.

Charlie Edward Styles is the recently big champ in the Styles’ residence after turning the big number one just before Love on Tour started. Their baby boy is the most precious thing in their life with his luscious blonde locks that he definitely took from Harry when he was a child himself, plus all the other features of his father because Sophia feels slightly cheated on that her baby that she cooked and cared for in her stomach for nine months ended up looking like the exact carbon copy of her husband. It’s as if all the times she found herself dreamily staring at Harry during her pregnancy magically made their first born look exactly like him with green doe eyes, and dimples on both cheeks and all the other cuteness overload.

Anyway, enough being bitter about things that should be considered as a blessing and let's jump back up to the productive activities that Sophia had accomplished while she left her two babies at home to spend some much needed father and son quality time. Truthfully, there wasn't much left for her to do at that point in the process of building Pleasing. Most of the heavy decision making steps were already completed by Harry because it is his brand to begin with, which only left Sophia with logistic talks and to arrange and finalize the PR list.

It wasn’t really a chore, but Harry had still tended to her upon her arrival back at their home in Malibu like she had just worked a tedious nine to five job with a cruel boss that didn’t give her any breaktime. In reality, Sophia was very much not working a nine to five as she had left for the Pleasing office already after lunch since Charlie was creating a fuss in not wanting to drink the milk she had pumped the night before, cries only stopping when Sophia had allowed him to latch directly on her breast. At the same time, Sophia was given a lot of break time courtesy of her husband, the founder of the company, after he had apparently ‘slightly threatened’ (Jeff’s words, not hers) to fire anyone that makes his wife exhausted for unnecessary things.

Well there weren’t any unnecessary matters thrown her way, so all of Harry’s Pleasing employees were on a definite clear and so was the company itself as the early access launch date was confirmed which is set on the day of the San Diego show.

Today is that day and Sophia already feels the smile threatening her lips just thinking about it as she tries to soak in the last few minutes of complete calmness as she snuggles on the sheets of their hotel bed not wanting to fully wake-up yet. However, the pair of plump lips that is currently leaving wet kisses on the warm skin of her bare shoulder blades is not helping her resolve in any means, her eyes fluttering open in the morning light of the room as she finally breaks into a soft smile at the image that greets her.

Nothing warms Sophia’s heart then seeing a top less Harry with an equally topless little Charlie cuddled comfortably across his broad chest. Their baby boy has always loved having skin to skin contact with his parents right after he was born. It was always the final answer for almost anything when he starts getting fussy or irritated, it never failed to put the boy to a calm sleep.

Whenever Sophia points out how inconvenient it sometimes can be especially when they’re in public and the both of them can’t just whip out their shirts even if Harry might be a slight nudist, her husband would always say that the both of them are to blame for spoiling Charlie with skin to skin contact in the first place.

Sophia would roll her eyes every time Harry answers in that fashion, confidently asserting that it wasn’t because of them spoiling their son, it’s about their baby boy inheriting a certain gene from his father who is an absolute culprit for being obsessed with skin to skin contact with his wife even before they were married. Harry would obviously give her a petulant pout at her accusation, would even try to ignore her for a few minutes but only submitting to defeat and asking for his turn to snuggle on her chest after their little baby has gotten his fill of his mama’s loving touch. Who was Sophia to ignore her adorable husband’s turn to cuddle with her?

“Look who’s awake, bubby,” Harry whispers to the wide-awake Charlie with his widened green eyes staring intently at his father’s own. “It’s our pretty mama, bubby. Pretty mama is up already, what do you say when someone wakes-up, little man? We were practicing it earlier super quietly because we didn’t want to disturb mama’s beauty rest.”

The one year old certainly does not understand Harry’s question but his parents' early morning soft smiles must elicit something joyous within his little body as he answers his father’s question with a dimpled smile, gums all out cutely with his little baby teeth making an early morning appearance.

“Mama, mama.” Charlie squeals, making his parents laugh at his rather bright enthusiasm.

“Yes baby, that’s me, mama’s awake.” Sophia fondly replies as she gives him her finger to hold around his tiny fist. Harry chuckles with one of his hands gently fixing the messy blonde curls of his son that definitely rivals the state of his own chocolate brown locks.

“That’s not what we really practiced, bubby. But that’s okay cause you’re still a little cutie who can get away with just your adorable smile.” Harry says, puckering his lips to land a smattering of small kisses on his baby’s forehead.

“My Charlie bubby can get away, but I don’t think dada can escape greeting mama a good morning with a good morning kiss too.”

Harry laughs just as brightly as their son’s squeal from moments ago, the graveness of his morning voice sends a sudden warmth within Sophia. Their practically snuggled tight position in bed, allows Harry to raise his head to look at his wife admiringly while the latter bends just a little bit to be closer to him.

“Wasn't planning to, lovie.” Harry rasps with the sides of his lips curved upwards, “Good morning, my pretty sunflower, I hope you had a good sleep.”

“Good morning too, bunny.” Sophia hums in appreciation, her hands reaching down to lightly fix Harry’s disheveled curls, “Always have a good night's sleep whenever I’m with my boys. Now where’s my kiss?” She pats her lips with her index finger for emphasis.

“Oh silly me, how can dada forget such an essential thing?”

Sophia endearingly rolls her eyes at her husband before bending down to close the gap between them as Harry catches her bottom lip in a deep sweet kiss. Sophia sighs in contentment at the warm and wet feeling of their lips together, reluctantly pulling apart when they begin to hear the little protests coming from their little baby.

“Wait for your turn, bubby.” Harry teasingly scolds their now frowning son who’s trying to wiggle away from Harry’s hold around him to reach his mother.

Sophia giggles at the apparent jealous nature that her baby is displaying, obviously another trait that Charlie got from Harry without a doubt. It’s not really an inconvenience on her part as Harry gently transfers the squirming Charlie away from his chest to Sophia’s own, while their baby finally settles down with his little lips directly finding his mothers in a sweet and slobbery kiss.

“Why thank you for that loving gesture, my Charlie bubby. Mama loves your morning kisses.” Sophia coos at the now dimpling baby, his little chubby face dropping to nuzzle her neck as little baby giggles leave his smiling lips.

“Good morning my love.” Sophia doesn’t forget to whisper at her baby, hers and Harry’s hands gravitating towards the little body on her chest to caress his smooth baby skin. “Today’s the special day, bubby. Remember the one I keep telling you about? It’s dada’s launch date!”

Her enthusiasm does not faze the utterly relaxed infant on her chest, quite content at basking in his parent’s loving touch and attention. Harry on the other hand can’t keep his endeared laugh from escaping him.

“It’s not really that special of a day because not everyone can get their hands on the products yet. We’re just launching the website and the brand itself on social media.”

Sophia dismisses Harry’s modesty by getting his big hand to cradle her cheek, her lips leaving a little kiss on his thumb, “It’s still a lot special because today’s still launch day! Besides, you also forgot one of the biggest happenings for today which is your little Pleasing truck in Studio City later! How can you forget that, bunny?”

Harry chuckles, eyes looking so fond at her with his thumb affectionately glazing her full lips, “Let me guess, the Pleasing truck is so special for today that you yourself is going there later?”

“Absolutely! I knew I married you not only for your looks but also your wits!” Sophia gleefully says while Harry shakes his head in fondness at her teasing. “Glenne and I are going with Lamby as well. I want to bring my little Charlie with me but dada won’t allow you, huh?” Sophia asks their little quiet son who’s now reaching for Harry’s other hand so he can also have his father’s big paw cradling his chubby cheeks like his mom. Aren’t they just a sickeningly sweet family who can’t live without constant touching?

“Bubby can’t because it’s not safe for him, right my little man?” Harry replies for Charlie, “Dada trusts mama and auntie Glenne and Lamby and the security that mama will not be leaving without,” he says this with his eyes completely trained at Sophia who has been guilty of sometimes leaving the confines of their hotel without any form of security with her. That causes her husband to panic because every time that happens, it just wasn’t a lucky day for Sophia as something unkindly usually occurs after.

“But,” Harry continues talking, “dada does not want to overwhelm you with all the people there later, especially when mama is focused on helping dada’s fans to get their Pleasing items because our pretty mama is super sweet and caring even if she isn’t necessarily needed there.”

And that might be true, they have employees who are going to handle the Pleasing truck and the website orders but it just doesn’t sit well with Sophia that no part of Harry will be there to experience it as well. She can’t fault her husband for not being able to drive the Pleasing truck himself as he’s still currently on tour with a show later in the Pechange Arena here in San Diego. She might not be Harry, but she’s his wife and they share the last name and she cares for this project of his just as much as he does.

“That’s alright with mama,” Sophia says with a smile of understanding given to Harry, “My Charlie bubby can stay with dada here while mama dotes over dada’s fans because she wants to do so. And, Nana Anne is here, bubby! You can show her all your stuffies and introduce everyone from the tour, yeah?”

With travelling restrictions slightly lifted, Anne has finally been able to secure a flight from England to the US. She deserves to see her son perform his heart out on every stage, and the three of them have been seriously missing her presence ever since they embarked to America for the start of the tour.

Once Charlie was born, Harry and Sophia have decided that they didn’t want to raise any of their children in the hustling and bustling city of London, it was a unanimous decision to get a house built up in Cheshire to be more close to their other family members as Sophia also came from the same country town. With that being said and done, almost every weekend, Anne had been a constant guest at their country estate with Charlie never leaving his nana’s side the moment she stepped within the confines of their home.

Just the mention of his nana’s name gets Charlie excited as he exhibits right now. His earlier quiet solace in his mother’s neck is instantly broken down by excited babbling with Sophia and Harry only understanding the word ‘nana’ leaving his excited lips.

“Alright, alright.” Harry laughs at the change of energy from his son, “Why don’t you and mama get ready first in the bathroom because it seems to me you two are quite excited to get on with the day, yeah?”

Sophia giggles her agreeance, her beaming face is welcomed by Harry’s slightly stubbled cheek as he delivers another round of toes tingling kisses to her lips before parting and doing the same to their son.

That gives enough motivation for Sophia to finally rise from the bed, her giggling Charlie clasped tightly around her chest as she walks the two of them in the ensuite bathroom to go on with their daily morning routine. It’s nothing special as far as just needing to be properly clean and fresh, so it only takes the two of them about ten minutes before they’re done and heading back inside their hotel room looking and feeling ready for today’s activities.

And it seems like Sophia and Charlie are not the only ones who are ready with their day as what greets them upon their arrival back in the room greatly implies that Harry has been going about his day already.

“Bunny, what in the world…” Sophia trails off as her surprised clouded eyes look around the two parcels placed carefully on their still messy bed. “Did you seriously send Charlie and I the Pleasing PR kit?”

Harry’s standing by the end of the bed, arms crossed behind his back in a look of innocence, “I don’t know what you mean, sunflower.” he shrugs his shoulders in an act of casualness, “Someone just knocked on our door and delivered these gifts for the two of you. Not gonna lie, kind of felt put-off when I didn’t get any parcels addressed to me; the person who sent this has clear favoritism.”

“You’re so silly!” Sophia laughs at Harry’s acting skills, she hopes to god this is not the type of acting she will be seeing on the big screen when all the recent movies he’s filmed finally comes out. He might be really cute, but that’s just bad acting when even their one year old son is laughing at him.

“Si si dada!” Charlie squeals while pointing his cute little index finger at Harry who now can’t keep the grin from spreading across his face.

“I know, bubby, dada is so silly! So, so silly!” Charlie erupts in bubbling baby laughter as Sophia noses his little ears. Harry sighs in defeat from where he’s standing, Sophia can see that he isn’t really annoyed that they’re poking fun at him.

“Would it be enough if pretty mama and Charlie bubby just give dada a wonderful kiss in thanks for his kind acts?”

Harry doesn’t even have to ask that before she’s carefully running to close the distance between the three of them, and if she wasn’t carrying a highly precious cargo with her, Sophia would have jumped in Harry’s arms as he stumbled back in their bed with Sophia pinning him from above to attack him with loving kisses like he deserves. Instead, she settles with crowding his personal space in a tight hug, careful of the baby in between them, as she follows along Charlie's slobbery sweet kisses once Harry had offered his cheeks to them. Of course, once Sophia started attacking Harry on the lips, their little son followed along his mother this time causing Harry to scrunch his nose from all the wet saliva sticking to his skin.

“Thank you for the kisses my lovies,” Harry says after his wife and son had calmed down, “I can see that you really wanted to give your thanks, huh?” he wipes a hand on his stubbled cheek only to find it wet.

“Oh hush it, you love it, bunny!” Sophia says as she brings her and Charlie to the bed where their parcels are located. “You’d rather have slobbery kisses from us than biting kisses, right Charlie bubby?”

Harry chuckles as he plops himself on the bed beside his babies, “I guess you’re right, I don't want any more bites on my cheeks from my little vampire.” and he reaches for Charlie’s little fist to jokingly bite on, resulting in the latter to release infectious laughter.

When Charlie began teething, he wasn’t a cranky little mess that cannot be settled like most babies. Instead, he was really accepting of the teething toys and treats Sophia and Harry gave him to the point where anything he was allowed to put his mouth on, he would latch on and bite. That just happened to be Harry’s cheeks and lips whenever he gave his baby some love and kisses.

At first he didn’t mind it, finding it funny that Charlie found his face worth chomping on instead of Sophia’s nipples that Charlie never bit on even if that’s where his actual food was coming from. Until it became Sophia, the one laughing at him after their son decided to shift into a little baby vampire when he bit so hard on Harry’s cheek that some blood actually came out.

Thank the lord the teething phase was over, and Harry should be really thankful that he only gets wet and saliva-messy kisses from their little boy. At the same time, Sophia should be really saying her gratitude to her husband upon seeing the thoughtful gesture he had just done for Charlie and her.

The parcels weren’t anything special, it was the same black Pleasing box that Sophia had seen being made in their factory before. And upon opening the box, it also contained the Perfect Polish Set, the Pearlescent Illuminating Serum, the Pleasing Pen, and even the nail art stickers. What made this special is the miniature bouquet of pink and white tulips that are bunched together by a white ribbon with the black Pleasing logo printed into it. In addition, the black card that usually contained the greetings from the company is now replaced with Harry’s handwriting:

“For the answer to my every search of pleasing; I love you, my Sunflower 🤍”

“It’s too early for this,” Sophia whines to her husband who’s giggling at her awed expression, “you’re going to make me cry, bunny!”

“Oh stop being a baby!” Harry teases, shifting his focus to his son who’s struggling to open his own parcel, “Look at our Charlie bubby, he’s not even in tears when he’s the genuine baby in the room.”

Sophia might have felt sheepish from that obvious point, but that thought went straight out the door the instant Harry says ‘ta-da!’ when Charlie’s black box finally opened to reveal wooden toy versions of his Pleasing products with the exact colors, finishes, the fonts of the words, and every single detail is down to the t. It’s literally a baby toy version of his nail polishes and skincare products and Sophia can feel her heart wanting to burst out of her chest for the lengths Harry possibly took just to make this possible.

“Bunny,” she whispers in a soft tone, “really? Isn’t this quite over the top?”

Harry just shrugs, smiling almost timidly, “I didn’t want my little son to feel left out today.”

And that statement might have been a precursor for the way Sophia’s blue eyes start to get glassy, but what really hits the home run is the personal black card that Harry had also left in their baby’s box with the same cursive strokes of his handwriting:

“Because you’re presence is my ultimate pleasing, my little curly Charlie; dada loves you forever 🤍”

The tears cannot be stopped after reading that, Sophia wholeheartedly proclaims. It’s a definite interesting scene if anyone were to watch the way Harry coos soothingly at Sophia’s tear-stained cheeks the same time that Charlie copies his father’s cooing which is translated through baby blabbering which is far too loud for it to be soothing like a coo. But nonetheless, Sophia cuddles close to her boys to embrace all the love and comfort they don’t fail to give her every day, surprise parcels or not.

“Bunny, you didn’t have to do all that,” Sophia whispers into Harry’s warm pec where her face is currently resting on, “you know that bubby and I would be fine with just using the ones you already have at home.”

Harry sighs at her kind words, bare hands running up and down her back in a relaxing nature, “I know, but I wanted to do it, sunflower. I meant what I said earlier.”

“What did you say earlier? You said a lot of sweet things just this morning alone.” Sophia notes making the two of them giggle.

Harry leans down to leave a tender kiss on her forehead, lips never leaving her skin as he answers, “That the person who sent these parcels had clear favoritism; my sunflower and my curly Charlie are my favorites.”

Sophia knows she doesn’t need to reply to that, the words: “you’re are favorite too, dada bunny.” being left unsaid to allow themselves silence for this special moment in their little family.

*~*~*

“Mrs. Styles, go pose in front of the truck and be a supportive wife while I take the pictures.”

Sophia squeaks a laugh of shock at Harry Lambert’s order, following nonetheless when she hears Glenne and the dozens of her husband’s fans waiting in line for the Pleasing truck to open, laugh as well.

“The fact that I’m here means I’m fucking supportive of my husband, Lamby,” Sophia replies in faux haughtiness, taking position in front of the truck and raising her hands up in a peace sign to emulate the Styles in her, “don’t go questioning my innate supporting tendencies again, alright?”

Lambert rolls her eyes at her in jest, as he takes another round of pictures with Sophia now doing a variety of poses and not sticking to her husband’s laughable mandatory peace signs, “Whatever you say, Mrs. Styles, I bet that’s what you also say to your husband for him to allow you to walk the streets of Los Angeles wearing a shirt with his damn big face on it.”

The laughter of everyone who heard him (meaning the growing dozens of said husband’s fans waiting in line) makes Sophia flush just a little bit on the cheeks before she makes her way back beside her two friends with her narrowed eyes pointed at Lambert specifically.

“Fyi, this customized shirt has a picture of my husband that has only dropped today. Plus, I bet my husband’s beloved ring collection that if you Lamby, styled one of your clients with this specific shirt on them with my husband’s gorgeous face on it, everyone around the world would be scrambling on their feet to buy it and the shirts will be sold out in barely a minute.”

That’s the truth no matter how smug and cocky Sophia may sound.

Regardless of Lambert’s teasing, Sophia is highly proud of wearing her husband’s full face and body in that stunning Gucci lavender trousers, ripped black vest, while posing on a fucking motorcycle. Her possessive tendencies didn’t even protest when Dazed magazine wanted this specific picture to be one of the covers for their new issues featuring Harry as the new founder of Pleasing, no matter how much she dislikes people lusting and fantasizing over her husband.

She’s got years of training and experience to not get jealous so easily over people that technically give them their funds to be able to live a comfortable life and buy every single damn stuffie that Charlie wants because their little baby boy is currently obsessed with those. Being with Harry ever since his band days has also allowed Sophia to develop a sense of a business mindset, knowing full well that her predictions of selling the exact same shirt she’s wearing right now to everyone waiting in line, is not simply an act of wishful thinking.

Glenne thinks the same way as she says in laughter and complete brilliance, “Oh my god Soph, that’s such a good idea!” she slings an arm around Sophia which she returns gladly, “we should pitch that idea to Jeff later and then maybe Harry can be the one to pick the pictures of himself that will be printed on the shirts.”

Sophia nods eagerly, mind flowing in the same direction as her friend, “That’s a good start, and then the two of us could pick the cuts of the shirts because god help me, why hasn’t Harry and Jeff release freaking crop tops when that’s what we wear all the damn time.”

“Bloody hell!” Lambert exclaims breaking the business reverie of the two ladies, “You two need more friends if all you guys talk about is business and your husbands!”

Lambert might have a highly valid point, but Sophia and Glenne just look at each other for a minute before laughing at how absurd that idea is. Sure, they should spread out their wings and find more friends, but Sophia thinks that this one might be a wishful thinking idea when she’s learned to keep a close group of genuine friends instead of finding more that only end up being literal plastic people in both mind and soul.

She’d rather have Glenne as her closest friend aside from her husband and Jeff than befriending someone who only wants to be close to her because of their status. Besides, the four of them are content with each other’s close company, especially after the addition of baby Charlie which made everything just a little bit more bright. At this point, Sophia and Harry are actually leaving subtle hints that the two newlyweds should start expanding their family as well, subtle enough that they bought matching clothes for Charlie bubby and the hypothetical Azoff baby because they would be besties as well for sure.

Thinking about her husband and her little baby, makes Sophia miss her boys just a bit more apparent. Now that Glenne, Lambert, and her are done taking their pictures in front of the Pleasing truck, Harry’s employees actually start preparing to open the store within the side of the truck. It just leaves a few short minutes for Sophia to message her husband before fully immersing herself in helping and interacting with Harry’s fans.

To: Baby Dada Styles 🐇: “Ugh”

“I just love you so much”

“And it hurts so much to be apart from you!”

From: Baby Dada Styles 🐇: “Aww, now you’re going to make ME cry! I miss you too, sunflower! 😽”

To: Baby Dada Styles 🐇: “Oh, I didn’t mean you, bunny. I was saying those things for my Charlie bubby, but thanks for missing me, I guess? 🤨”

From: Baby Dada Styles 🐇: “So that’s the game we’re playing now, huh? Alright, I’ll just give my kissies to someone else then…”

To: Baby Dada Styles 🐇: “No you wouldn’t, you love me so much that you just physically can’t. Right, my spouse? 😏”

From: Baby Dada Styles 🐇: “I shouldn’t have told you that the word ‘spouse’ gives me a love boner. Now I got one and I have work, and you have work too so go back to work, spouse! ILY!”

To: Baby Dada Styles 🐇: “Eww that love boner better be staying away from my child, and I better get paid with kissies later for all this work I’m going to be doing for you. I love you, too my bunny! See ya later! 💞”

That was enough Harry Styles interaction that can last Sophia quite a good while to have the focus to actually work without itching to touch her husband and son. Thankfully, his fans were also not causing any loud disturbance or chaotic energy as the line started moved when the Pleasing truck finally opened its doors for customers.

For the next hour or so, Sophia and Glenne took turns handing customer’s their orders of the Perfect Polish Set, since it was the only product they would be selling in these shop-trucks. However, Sophia made sure to hand some classic ‘Pleasing’ stickers to everyone who bought anything, even giving several to those fans that complimented her shirt.

It’s always a fun time when Harry’s fans approach her, Sophia has always been down to get their pictures taken with her husband or even herself when the rare opportunity strikes. Having been in Harry’s life since he started his whole career, his fans have known early on that she’s a generally reserved person who does not like being on social media that very much. With that being said, Sophia highly appreciates the gentle and kind approach Harry’s fans give to her most of the time, even asking for her consent if they can post their pictures together on their respective social media accounts.

Today had been no exception as it seemed like every single one of Harry’s kindest supporters lined up in Studio City to give their words of gratitude and congratulation to the Styles' new business venture. Some of them even came bearing some gifts for their little son, Sophia laughing in fondness at one of the girls that handed her a frog stuffie wearing Harry’s Dorothy dress, complete with the bow and sparkly red boots that he wore during the first night of Harryween in NYC.

Probably sensing Sophia once again thinking about her boys, not long after, she receives a text from Anne that’s got her, Glenne, and Lamby saying goodbye to Harry’s wonderful supporters before riding back to San Diego.

From: Mama Anne 💗: “Sweetheart, your boys need you back. Matching pouting faces have been unleashed. Safe travels, my love.”

*~*~*

Sophia wasn’t in a panic after getting Anne’s message, already used to the similar kind of messages that she receives from Jeff whenever Glenne and her took the afternoon off to explore whatever city they’ve stopped for the show, leaving Harry and Charlie with the rest of the band and tour crew.

This type of thing always happens, whether on tour or not. Harry and Charlie just can’t have a full day without Sophia’s company, which has been a struggle at some point during the times that the girl wanted to have some alone and me time since it’s the healthy way to go with life. Though most of the time, like right now, it doesn’t bother Sophia that her baby boys are feeling clingy for her, as she herself usually succumbs to calling Harry and asking him to come back home whenever Charlie and her just misses his presence so much.

“Where’s my boys?” is the first thing Sophia says upon arriving at the backstage of tonight’s venue, foregoing any greetings when her eyes locate Charlie and Harry that are looking at her with similar states of disgruntledness with their matching unmoving pout on complete display like Anne had perfectly described.

“Mama’s here,” “MAMA! MAMA!” Her two boys simultaneously call for her, Sophia instantly gravitating towards their bare chested standing figures in her husband’s dressing room, not even noticing how Anne and the other people who were in the room just earlier, leave them in peace and privacy.

“Oh, my baby boys.” Sophia coos while a now sobbing Charlie clung to her torso in a tight hold as she carried the baby, Harry helping her quickly take her top off after their little boy began pawing it off in complete irritation.

“Okay, okay, bubby, just wait a minute,” Sophia soothes her son with a kiss to his still crying cheeks, thanking her husband after he helped her put on the Gucci robe Harry had specifically placed for her in his dressing room for times like this.

“There you go, my curly bubby, there you go,” Sophia hums as she settles comfortably on the couch, Harry not forgetting to help her prop some pillows behind her back for some comfortable support, both their hands gently soothes Charlie’s curly locks which helps him relax even more.

“I love you, my Charlie bubby,” Sophia replaces the baby’s salty tears with her tender kisses, “mama is here, mama’s going to cuddle you to sleep, my lovie.”

Thankfully, Charlie stops crying quickly after feeling the warmth of his mother’s bare skin against his. This allows Sophia to train her eyes on her husband that’s left standing in front of them on the couch.

“Bunny, what’s wrong?” Sophia asks in slight concern, eyes mapping the still visible frown on his face that usually disappears in an instant whenever he’s just missing her and she’s finally come back to his side. This time, it seems like something deeper is worrying her husband.

“I’m already back, my lovie. Do you want to cuddle with Charlie and I? Come, I have more space for my bunny, always have more space for you.” Sophia pats her side for Harry to sit on and cuddle her side.

Harry bites his bottom lip, a sign of troubled emotions in Sophia’s books, “I just feel really anxious, sunflower, have been feeling quite nervy for the past hours about the launch and how people are perceiving our products. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, I can’t keep still but I don’t want to move too much as well or I might get tired before the show. Sunflower, I don’t know what to do, I -”

“Bunny, stop, you’re panicking yourself,” Sophia gently but firmly tells him, “let’s do some breathing exercise to calm you down, okay?”

Sophia guides her husband to some simple breathing techniques they usually do during their morning yoga sessions back at home, thinking to herself that if she only knew that Harry would panic himself thinking about these unnecessary things during his launch day, then she would have probably skipped going to LA and helping at the Pleasing truck if it would appease her husband’s mind and emotions with her by his side.

After Harry has considerably calmed down from his rambling, Sophia pats again her side of the couch and he thankfully doesn’t put up a fight as he busies himself to snuggling close under his wife’s arm, seeking as much warmth as he can get without monopolizing it all away since he’s not the only Styles boy in her life that needs his sunflower’s loving.

Harry might be a self-proclaimed jealous person, but he never is for his son which Sophia knows he really shouldn’t be, as every time Charlie wants to have skin to skin contact on her chest, Harry would just be two steps away from wanting to cuddle her side at the same time. Harry shouldn’t also be jealous since his favorite hair scratches are still present like right now, Harry’s own hands finding its way to delicately massage his son’s own curly locks.

With her nose buried in Harry’s hairline, Sophia breathes in her husband’s comforting scent while the latter does the same thing by nosing at her neck and collarbones.

“There’s nothing major you need to worry about, bunny,” Sophia whispers in the quiet room, “every single one that I’ve met today who bought your new products have nothing but kind words and praises to say. Now, if ever there are people online who are talking some shit about Pleasing, then that’s their problem for not having better things to do.”

Harry chuckles lightly, his free arm wrapping around Sophia’s waist to pull them closer together, “I get you, sunflower, I really do. I just don’t understand why I can’t quelch down these irrational fears I have. I’ve known for so long I can’t please everybody, and I made this project with the intent of showing that I’m done doing things while feeling fearful of the results, and have been doing a lot of things to show them that.”

Sophia hums her agreement, lips finding purchase on whatever patch of Harry’s skin she can reach, “It’s okay to feel slightly nervous when starting something new, H. Just don’t panic your own self like earlier. I don’t want my bunny feeling that type of way again, especially when I can help it.”

“And you do help, sunflower,” Harry mumbles onto her skin in such a reverent tone, “always make me feel better when I’m down or lost in my own unkind thoughts. I love you for that, so much, for understanding me every time.”

“I love you too, always, my bunny. It’s not really hard to understand that you’re feeling distressed when your face looks like you want to shit but can’t every time you need me to calm you down.”

“Heyyy,” Harry whines, the imprint of his smiling dimples not lost in Sophia’s vision, “now you’re just taking the piss and ruining our moment.”

“Today has been full of those bloody ‘moments’ ever since this morning, it’s alright to put an end to this one now.” Sophia points out in jest, feeling the vibrations of Harry’s quiet laughter on her warm skin.

“Fine, I’m going to take a nap to clear my head a bit more just like our little man here,” Harry relents, leaving one last deep kiss on Sophia’s neck before snuggling deeper into her body to find a comfortable spot to take a nap on.

No matter how tired Sophia feels from her earlier activities of helping at the Pleasing truck, interacting and accepting kind words and gifts from Harry’s lovely fans, and to even posing for Lambert’s bloody Instagram pictures, Sophia feels every single drop of tiredness leave her body as she contently watches her boys fall asleep in her hold.

There’s no better remedy to her exhaustion than knowing her husband and little son is safe and happy in her arms.

*~*~*

While Harry is in soundcheck, Sophia found it to be the perfect time to accomplish her plan for tonight after the concert while her husband is not in the same room as her.

“Bubby, what do you say about eating cake tonight?” Sophia converses with her son, Charlie watching his mother type away on her laptop while the two of them are sitting down on the baby’s playmat in the middle of Harry’s dressing room.

The baby lets out a positive noise at the mention of the sweet treat, tiny hands coming up to tap his mouth, “Nom nom?”

Sophia giggles at her son, “Yes, non nom, cake’s good, bubby. You like eating cake, my love?”

Charlie positively squeals in answer, fists holding his new Pleasing nail polish toys starts banging on the playmat at his apparent strong affirmation to his mother’s question.

“Alright, then I guess we are good at getting dada a cake for tonight,” Sophia nods her head as Charlie says “dada!” after she mentions his father, giggling when she watches her little baby looking around the room as if calling for his father would make him appear all of a sudden in the room.

“Mama!” Charlie calls for her attention, making Sophia stop her typing of filling up the cake’s order form online.

“Yes, my curly Charlie?”

Charlie tilts his head sideways, frowning up at his mother, “Dada?”

“Dada’s in soundcheck, bubby. You can see him later once he’s not busy anymore. Did you have fun with Nana Anne today while mama was away with auntie Glenne and Lamby?”

The mention of his grandmother’s name thankfully suppresses the fussing fit Sophia saw brewing in Charlie’s face after she had mentioned Harry was currently unavailable for him to be with. It’s just not her that their baby gets clingy over, Charlie is the splitting image of Harry so in Sophia’s opinion, it only makes sense that their little son likes following his father around to join whatever her husband was doing.

Fortunately, babies have a very short span of interest so Sophia indulges her baby blabbering joyously about his day with his nana even if it’s just baby noise. It gets Sophia to finish ordering the personalized cake for Harry tonight while giving the appropriate ‘oh?’ ‘yeah?’ ‘really, my Charlie bubby? Nana and you really did that?’

Her baby was smart though, so he loses interest at her nonsensical replies and crawls his way to her lap, making Sophia quickly put the laptop down on her side to help and welcome her baby to sit comfortably on top of her thighs.

“Mama!” Charlies says, looking at her and at her laptop with his index finger pointing at the screen where the picture of tonight’s treat is displayed.

“Yeah, that’s the cake for tonight, baby,” Sophia replies, offering her own fingers for Charlie to clutch on his tiny fists, bringing it straight to his little mouth to suck on because their son is at the age where he puts almost anything on his mouth for no reason. Good thing his new nail polish toys have no detachable parts unlike the real Pleasing nail polish bottle, so he can mouth over the round globes on his wooden toys all he wants.

“But that’s not the final look of the cake though,” Sophia continues to say when her baby keeps on pointing at the cake, “it’s going to be white with dada’s Pleasing logo at the top. It’s simple, but it’s buttercream frosting and the cake is made out of banana bread so you and dada will love it for sure.”

“Mama, nomnom?” Charlie says again, making Sophia giggle even at how redundant it is to talk to a one year old.

“Yes, it’s nomnom yummy, my Charlie bubby. Mama’s ordering it because she can’t cook for the life of her, so it’s safe to say it would be edible and good.”

Charlie makes a noise as if asking why his mother can’t cook so Sophia responds accordingly.

“Well, mama never really found cooking to be fun, that's why I didn’t have the interest to try and learn how to do it. But thank the heavens that your dada is a good cook, you of course already know that he used to be a baker.” Sophia rolls her eyes, remembering every time they visit Barbara’s bakery in Cheshire he would always tell their baby stories about his time there of being a ‘baker’, though Sophia can attest that he really wasn’t, when they applied and got the job together making her firsthand witness that Harry was definitely not baking in the bakery.

“Anyway, dada is good at that so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“What’s dada good at?”

Years of experience with Harry’s surprising antics makes Sophia immune to the sudden appearances her husband likes doing in the hopes of eliciting a scared reaction from her. That’s why Charlie and her just turn to the direction of his voice as he enters the room while closing the door.

“DADA!” of course their son is scrambling away from Sophia’s lap to run at his father’s dramatically opened arms on the end of the playmat waiting for Charlie’s hug like they haven’t seen each other in years.

“Oh my son, I’ve missed you so much! How did I survive those grave hours without you in my arms?”

Harry’s highly dramatic speech causes Sophia to snort and Charlie to squeal in baby laughter as Harry litters him with kisses upon kisses as the two of them gently tumble on the playmat in a lying position.

Smiling, Sophia clears her throat to get their attention, two pairs of her favorite green orbs staring back at her, “I believe dada also owes mama kissies for all the hard work she did earlier, yeah?”

“Mama!” Charlie claps his hands in what Sophia would assume as an agreement to her statement, making her raise an eyebrow at her husband to telepathically say ‘our baby agrees with me so get your bloody ass here and shower me with kissies!’ it’s too much of an aggressive request for their baby to be in earshot, regardless if he understands it or not.

Harry smirks, “Tell me first what you were referring to that I was good at earlier, before I made my presence known.”

He's not the only one good with surprises, Sophia can keep her own ground, thank you very much.

Confidently, she replies, “I was just telling our curly Charlie that you’re the good cook between the two of us because it seemed to me like he was requesting for me to cook him something when our little boy kept saying ‘nomnom’. That’s what it was only about, now can I have my kissies?”

Sophia doesn’t know if it’s because Harry might not believe her answer fully or they’re just so in sync with each other’s energies and auras that they kind of have an inkling when someone is hiding something, because he gives her this look like he’s not quite sure if he should already give her his kissies or should he push to get more answers.

Thankfully, Harry chose the former, the next thing Sophia knows is she’s getting lovingly attacked by Harry’s lips on every bare skin she has on display. It doesn’t help that she’s still wearing the Gucci robe with no top underneath it, Sophia squealing in giggles for Harry to stop when he starts lowering his kisses to reach her breasts. Their son does not really need to see this, like at all.

Said son then decides to join the action, probably feeling a bit jealous that his father wasn’t giving him any attention and all the loving kisses are only being capitalized by his mama. Charlie was Sophia’s saving grace as persistently squirmed his way to be in between his parents, babbling loudly with his tiny lips puckered out dramatically.

The two can’t really deny their baby anything, might it be new toys or the simple pleasure of kisses.

*~*~*

Harry’s San Diego show was an utter success; when did any of his shows ever sucked, really?

Contrary to what people may think, Sophia actually finds her husband’s concerts as a reprieve from any duties she may have on the daily. Even if their one year old baby is present, Harry’s concerts make Charlie so calm and enthralled just watching his father perform on stage with all the bright colorful lights shining on him, that their baby never makes a fuss every time it’s showtime.

With just the main task of making sure that Charlie’s personally made baby ear muffs are placed properly on his ears to protect his tiny eardrums from any damage, Sophia lets him walk around and bop his little body to his father’s music in the designated space for friends and family members of theirs are situated.

Sophia’s innate motherly skills however, makes her still on high alert to the whereabout of her baby even if she’s lounging around with a milkshake on her hand in one of the seats Glenne and her bring with them, because they’re just not young enough anymore to be able to stand the whole damn duration of the concert regardless if it’s her husband’s melodious voice or not. She gets called out for it, from time to time when Harry decides to address her in the crowd of thousands of people like they’re just having a normal conversation, asking if he’s already boring her too much that she needed to sit down during Adore You and have the time to think if they should break up or not.

Seriously, Harry’s a different crazy when he’s on stage.

And his son is another type of crazy when his dada is singing Watermelon Sugar on stage, which can be understandable in Sophia’s books because her dorky husband purposely changes a part of the lyrics at the first verse to elicit this crazed, squealing, and thumping reaction from Charlie.

“I want more berries,

and my curly Charlie;

Soph is wonderful and warm!”

Like a Pavlovian effect, their little Charlie is screaming ‘DADA!’ and ‘MAMA!’ just hearing his father’s loud voice saying his name and the name of his pretty mama, a thing that Harry did in tonight’s show which made Anne close to tears of laughter and fondness at the way her grandson was enthusiastically pointing to himself and calling for his nana as if asking, ‘Did you hear my dada saying my name in his song, nana? Nana, did you hear that?!’

No matter how small that moment may be, it tired out her curly Charlie pretty fast after that. The rest of the concert was left with Anne and Sophia taking turns carrying the tired infant. When he no longer wants to be in Nana Anne’s arms, he’d call for his pretty mama. Then when he wants Nana Anne’s touch again, he calls for her so that pretty mama can transfer him to her.

If it hasn’t been clear yet, well it’s definitely clear now: their family spoils curly Charlie rotten without any traces of guilt left behind.

So with a tired baby welcoming a post-concert Harry, Sophia didn’t need to do any alterations for her plan to surprise her husband to progress, when it became a mutual decision to take the night-in while the others went out to celebrate the successful San Diego sold-out show and the launch of Pleasing.

Sophia’s surprise wasn’t even anything big, just the simple Pleasing cake she got personalized earlier, and some pink, black, and white balloons that she had asked Jeff to place in their room when Harry had left for the venue earlier in the day.

Regardless, Harry is still surprised upon entering their penthouse room to see said surprise sweetly arranged in the living room table.

“Sunflower,” Harry quietly says her pet name in awe, wary of the sleeping baby in his arms.

“Go put our baby to bed and then meet me here so we can have a little celebration.” Sophia smiles in understanding as she goes on her tippy toes to drop gentle kisses on Charlie’s sleep rumpled cheeks.

It only took Harry a good five minutes to get Charlie sorted for bed, Sophia feeling extremely blessed that even if her husband might be vastly tired from just doing a concert, he still does not neglect his fatherly duties and would even hold an argument if ever Sophia made him rest early without being able to have the chance to get his son ready for bed.

“Aww, that cake looks so cute,” Harry coos upon joining Sophia in the living room, placing the trusty baby monitor on the coffee table before sitting beside her so closely that she’s able to smell his freshly showered scent of apple shampoo, “did you bake it yourself?”

“Oh sod off!” Sophia chuckles while slightly nudging her shoulder to his, trying to jostle him away from their close proximity.

“I’m just kidding, sunflower,” Harry curves an arm around Sophia to get them cuddled close even more, his hand reaching to hold hers as he brings the back of it to his lips for a reverent kiss. “Thank you for this, lovie, the perfect way to celebrate this day for sure.”

Sophia giggles at that, “Your perception of a perfect celebration for a launch of your new beauty/skincare company and a successful sold-out show in San Diego, is to eat a cake your wife didn’t even bake you and drink some juice on a carton because said wife can’t also drink any alcoholic beverage?”

Harry dimples at her like she was just reading his mind spot-on, “Yup, and add to that: doing each other’s nails, that’s the most pleasing celebration I could ever ask for.”

When Sophia had first asked Harry why he named his new company ‘Pleasing’, his answer had been simple.

“I don’t know, I guess because the simple things in life like getting my nails done with my chosen color of polish just brings such genuine joy in me.”

“Is that also why your chosen tagline is ‘Find your pleasing’?”

“Yeah, I want others to find the joy in the little things and my nail polishes can possibly help them, I hope at least.”

“So you’re telling me that nail polish actually helped you find your pleasing moments?”

“Duh, getting to paint your nails for you is the most simplest yet euphoric moments for me that I can never forget and will always spark that wonderful feeling within me. That’s the essence of ‘Pleasing’ for me, sunflower.”

As if he didn’t just say the most sappiest thing he had ever said to her in their years of knowing each other. Which is a fucking big deal to say considering she’s known this sappy shit ever since they were ten, when the mushiest thing he has done by far was to beg Anne for more money to spend on a dang ring toss game during their joined family trip to a carnival, just to win Sophia a baby pink teddy bear the she didn’t even ask for. But apparently, her husband was trying to out-do himself as Harry proceeded to ask her that day:

“May I please paint your nails for you, my pretty sunflower?”

So when Harry asks her the same exact question tonight in their little celebration, Sophia answers just the same that time months ago, with the same feeling of adoration bubbling within her,

“Yes please, bunny.”

Honey Bunny - Part I

Story Masterpost for the other chapters

*~*~*

He is going to make her a slip dress, she’s his new inspiration.

Alright, maybe a definitive statement like that shouldn’t be his prerogative when he doesn’t even know who this lady is. He’s essentially going to make a piece of clothing that would be sold for quite a few hundred pounds for a complete stranger, a completely gorgeous omega though.

Harry Styles shakes his head at the current thoughts running in his head, right hand slicking back the long, wayward curls falling across his face obstructing the view of his sketchbook that’s open to a new blank page.

The page has been blank for almost a month now, and Harry doesn’t think he can afford to throw away such a brilliant (but possibly creepy) idea when he knows that by the end of the day, Jeff, his best friend and head of his creative department, would be ringing him up in the guise of checking in on him and then would try to extract information from Harry about his new collection. How can Jeff get anything from him when Harry himself has been sparse of ideas this entire life-altering few weeks.

You see, Harry owns the rapidly growing and flourishing lingerie and loungewear fashion brand of central London that everyone from across all ages and genders seem to adore dearly. Harry has founded his brand right after he finished fashion university in London, and named it, “Sweet Creature”, his literal baby made out of his sweat, tears, and passion. Harry’s not trying to be a typical cocky Alpha, but he can confidently say when asked that he deserves the title of being the next “it” lingerie name right after the infamous Victoria’s Secret. Heck, even the old sweet ladies that grew-up using Victoria’s Secret are now flocking Harry’s store and would kindly tell him that his baby is beyond better than the previous lingerie mogul.

There was a lot of fight in Harry to show people what he's got when he had first started his business. It’s not every time that a young lad from the small town of Holmes Chapel, Cheshire would excel in the big bustling town that is London, especially when it comes to the harsh and often uptight scene of fashion. He’s had to prove himself countless times in university, amongst his arrogant and posh peers who thought that a country boy like him does not have the skills and the eye for up-scale fashion like they do.

Harry’s not one to treat others awfully even if he sometimes thinks they deserve it. Though at the same time, the proud Alpha in him, and simply the fact that he’s a human being who knows his worth, would not allow anyone to walk down on him. Thus, the majority of his university days were spent with his chin high up in the air, strong stance walking along the corridors to go to his next class with nothing in mind but to continue to excel.

He might hear or see the nasty comments and looks his fellow peers give him, but he perfected the art of shutting them out. He was too keen to absorb knowledge and sharpen his fashion designing skills to fulfill his dreams of having his own fashion brand.

It paid off well in the end, thank you very much. Harry would rather subject himself for haters and strangers to think that he’s a snob and far too serious and borderline work obsessed, than to end up like the majority of his cocky and entitled peers who are now trying to contact his social media team asking them if they can promote his brand because they’re now social media influencers in the time being while they’re still in the process of starting their own brand.

Now, Harry’s not one to discredit anyone's process to work in establishing a name in the fashion industry because he experienced first hand how vile and tedious it is. But the audacity of some of his previous peers in wanting to work for him is seriously something he cannot stomach.

Some of them who had emailed his team he remembers as the ignorant and spoiled omegas in his class who is now playing the “helpless omega” card who in their email basically asserted that Harry is an alpha, definitely repeating per paragraph how kind he is, and that since he’s an alpha it’s expected in his biology and in society for him to care for omegas that are in need of help.

In Harry’s opinion, if you embody and practice human decency, alpha or not, his secondary gender has nothing to do with why he should care and help someone who had not done the same to him, and has blatantly given him an awful treatment in the past even when he did nothing to them. Besides, Harry has far more pressing matters to accomplish which involves growing his business internationally without the distraction of ill-motivated university acquaintances who are no doubt just playing with his kindness.

That’s what Harry had been very occupied with before this moment. Starting and growing his baby in London is one thing, but trying to perpetually build on his company whilst trying to establish a name internationally, is another completely difficult task.

Far from a complete two years in the fashion scene, Harry and his hardworking team had begun the tedious transition of making international recognition. Without a doubt, Harry had pushed every other part of his life at the back of the agenda, such as his initial plan of moving back to Cheshire after securing his own place in a homely village just about twenty minutes from Holmes Chapel where his mom still lives.

Harry feels absolutely privileged for being able to use his first few earnings to buy his own stoned country house, which definitely motivated him to push back his initial plan to move-in earlier in the year to place his focus first on his baby’s international pursuit.

Diligence and painstaking attention to every detail enabled Harry the success he had wanted in the international market. The workaholic alpha within him strikes in full-force after he sees how much people around the world seem to love wearing his undergarment pieces as outerwear, something that a lot of people in England have yet to take a massive interest in. Being the innovator that he is, Harry wanted to be the first one in his country to capitalize and promote this honestly brilliant and sexy fashion trend.

Jeff and his girlfriend Glenne, had told him that he was being a cocky and arrogant alpha like his peers from fashion university when Harry had relented to take a rest after their international market agenda before starting his new collection. Harry was honestly offended at that comment, never and ever would like to be likened to his previous acquaintances, and decided his stubborn arse would prove his friends wrong.

But half a month later and nothing but countless crumpled paper have littered Harry’s office instead of novel and highly creative ideas. Harry concedes with a petulant pout on his face as Jeff and Glenne’s smug smiles look at him over dinner in his office (because Harry wasn’t going admit defeat without trying really hard, and yes, it means eating take-out dinner in his closed office by himself) as they’ve finally convinced him to take a breather by finally packing his stuff and move to his new place in Cheshire.

So that’s what occurred, Harry packed all his belongings in his Range Rover and had thankfully only needed to make two trips from London to Cheshire to move all his stuff. Harry’s a country boy at heart, so it was genuinely a dream of his to settle back in the country gardens of his hometown. Inspiration is something he thought will come to him in a snap of a finger at the familiarity of his surroundings, always going home with new ideas after every bite of his mother’s scrumptious basque cheesecake.

But in reality, Harry can only eat so much of Anne’s comforting cheesecake before he bloats up with dairy instead of new propositions of garment silhouettes and lace patterns. He does not understand why it doesn’t work this time around, and it’s particularly annoying (and disgusting, to be honest) that rather than spending his time in his brand new marble work desk, he spent the majority of it in his fresh orange scented bathroom, shitting.

That must have been the sign that homemade, country-local goods are not the answer to his designer block. However, here he is, in his neighborhood bakery to consume more dairy infused goods if all the mouthwatering scents of something baking in the oven is any indication, when Harry had first entered the little, adorable cottage looking establishment.

If he’s being honest, it’s not the first time that the bakery has piqued his interest. Every time Harry re-established his morning jogging routine around his new neighborhood, there’s this unknown force that seems to stop the momentum of his jog once he neared the vicinity of the bakery. It makes him slow down on a walk, eyes drifting to the little windows slightly covered by white lace curtains.

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but the pretty smiling girl in her pastel yellow apron that she never fails to wear every time Harry had taken a peek at the window, was definitely one of the pushing factors that had made him finally enter the cottage bakery today. It was a little bit of a downer that she wasn’t there upon his arrival, but Harry quickly berated himself that he was here to gain much needed inspiration for his new collection, not to ogle at pretty little smiling girls.

But the thing is, she is a pretty little smiling cutie up close and personal. And Harry’s really trying his best to stop the ogling, but how can he when the moment the little bell on top of the door rang signalling a new arrival, Harry’s eyes and nose have turned upwards in their own accord at the sight and smell that began to permeate the quaint bakery.

It’s addictively sweet, that is. The new scent smells like fresh, saccharine sweet honeysuckle with hints of vanilla bean swirled into it. Not only that, but the sight of the girl is sickeningly sweet as well.

It’s her, was the first thought Harry had, the pretty girl he always sees when he takes a peek at the window, minus her pastel yellow apron as the smiling little creature was currently adorned with a silky blue slip dress, Harry’s detailed oriented eyes instantly sees the white lace trimmings of the breast cups of her dress that have stitches of little pastel yellow and pink flowers. But in all honesty, it’s her big blue eyes being framed by her wispy blonde bangs and her tiny dimpled smile that Harry fixates on.

Not even a full five minutes of the girl being in the bakery, Harry has decided that she’s his new inspiration for his upcoming collection like some sort of alpha child who has a crush on a beautiful girl trying to make her a ‘roses are red, violets are blue’ poem in primary school. Except right now, Harry’s more discrete at his staring with less chances of being caught, as he quietly looks from his flower printed cushion seat at the girl that’s now wearing her favorite pastel yellow apron with the matching oven mitts, humming sweetly while she takes out the freshly baked muffins from the oven.

There weren’t many customers in the bakery this early in the day, so Harry’s sharp alpha hearing, kind of, well what choice does he really have, is overhearing the conversation between the girl and the other two betas that he learns are her workers. It only surprises him a bit to learn that she’s the owner of this bakery taking in account that she’s an omega if her sweet scent and delicate physique can be any more of a tell.

In this current society where Harry luckily lives in, it has certainly moved a million miles away from the older status quo and societal standards that omegas should be kept within the confines of a home to become wives and caregivers. Providing them access to opportunities that can enable them to develop skills to move past that, was highly illegal before. Harry’s a hundred percent thankful that it is no longer the case today, though it’s still common for omegas to be in a subordinate position under alphas and betas with fewer opportunities open for them that goes beyond the care sector.

Harry’s definitely one of the advocates of providing more varied chances for omegas, being one of the first fashion brands that showcased both female and male omegas as the models of their garments. Harry honestly does not fathom how people don’t see the innate prettiness and air of elegance and gracefulness that every omega possesses, they’re quite literally born for this job.

Harry smiles to himself upon hearing the melodious quiet giggles that leave the omega’s lips at something one of her workers said, something about how the sweetness of her mother’s honey bees must have transferred to her boss based from her bright aura this morning. Harry can confidently agree, handwriting the word ‘honey’ on top of the rough sketch of the slip dress he made for her on his now miraculously not blank sketchpad.

Harry is stunned to say the least, because of this pretty stranger of an omega, he got his first inspiration in months with not just a snap of a finger, but just a blink of an eye. Harry is still fascinated at this swift progress of things, right hand expertly refining his design.

He always gets transfixed on designing whenever he has found that perfect idea to work on, mood always turning positive when he’s doing what he loves to do the most. His rapture is interrupted when he hears a little cough from his side.

He’s met with the sight of the adorable omega, looking (and smelling, let’s not forget about that vital detail, thank you) exceptionally breathtaking while standing just a feet away from where he’s seated, both of her arms crossed behind her back, looking all cute with that same smile Harry’s been seeing earlier, except now it’s directed at him quite surprisingly.

“Hi!” the omega says in a chirpy tone, head tilting to the side in a cute greeting.

Harry tries not to look too stunned at her undeniable charm, “Hey, may I help you?”

Giggles leave her glossy baby pink lips in answer, making Harry smile at the dulcet tune, “Oh, not really. I was actually here to ask you if you want any more of our honey goods?” she giggles again for whatever reason.

Harry obviously doesn’t mind her quite pleasant interruption, finding himself releasing his own little giggles at her adorable nature, “Well, I think I still have a little bit of my honey pancakes left, so maybe I’d take that offer late.”

“Are you sure?” she asks with that same cute tilt of her head to her shoulder, ocean blue eyes widening a bit.

Harry gets distracted by her charm, “I think?” he asks back, almost unsure if it’s the right thing to say. He sees the little quirk of the omega’s lips, Harry returning it as if he’s proud of himself for giving some sort of correct answer.

“What do you mean you think? I’m the one asking you.” she giggles even more, Harry’s honestly confused of what’s happening but all he knows is he wants to keep making her giggle like that.

“You’re correct, you’re asking me. Silly little me.” Harry agrees with her, shrugging his shoulders in a sheepish nature, preening at the way his silliness causes the omega to cover her giggling mouth with her dainty hand.

“I did smell some delicious scents just a few moments ago. I’m assuming those came from your other honey goods?”

“Oh yes!” the omega perks up at Harry’s question, “I forgot to tell you that my honey goods are freshly baked!”

Harry nods along at her bright enthusiasm, “Now that’s a shame. I would have quickly taken your offer earlier if you would have mentioned that they were freshly baked. I’m just saying, who doesn’t like freshly baked food? Crazy and horrible people, those are.”

The little omega nods her head in agreement, a small pout forming on her baby pink lips, its fullness definitely made more prominent with whatever shining lip gloss she’s wearing, “I know right, those people who can resist the goodness of freshly baked goodies are just sad. They probably lack hugs or something.”

Harry is taken aback to say the least; in complete awe at how adorable she is without even trying. The alpha can hear the genuineness in her tone, laced with dejection at the prospect that some people in the world are actually needing hugs. Harry doesn’t doubt that if he was one of the hug-starved people and had asked this kind omega for some, he probably wouldn’t have finished his sentence and the girl would be collecting him into her small arms in a gentle hug.

Sadly, he isn’t hug-starved and he can’t resist freshly baked treats. So maybe Harry should just find other ways to be able to get the omega to hug him? Maybe another day when he actually gets to know the name of the girl first. That's going to be a good incentive to come back to the bakery again, Harry thinks.

“Good thing I can’t withstand the gloriousness of freshly baked honey goodies,” Harry says instead when a cooing sound almost leaves his lips at the pout the omega was still sporting at him. “What are these specific delectables by the way?”

Some sort of dazzling energy seems to enter the omegas little body at his question, face positively beaming as she claps her hand in excitement. Harry’s so attuned to her every movement and expression that he really tries his best to control the drool that may slip from his mouth in utter amazement at her loveliness as he watches her animatedly list down her honey treats.

“We have three baked goodies that you might want to choose from, or you can just get them all if you wish,” She giggles, unknowingly coaxing Harry to actually just get everything she’s offering if that sweet noise leaves her lips again. The omega has no clue how much she’s affecting the alpha this early on in their meeting.

“Anyway, we have freshly made Belgian waffle bites paired with our homemade strawberry-infused honey, or you can opt for our Belgian chocolate honey if you like that more. To be honest, I prefer our chocolate honey with it and I add a bit of powdered sugar on top of it to make it extra sweet! And then, we also have our best seller honey cookies with a drizzle of pure honey, that’s one of my favorites to be honest. It’s simple, but very tasty and addictive once you start munching on them. I think I once ate ten of them in one sitting, that’s how amazing they are. While for the third but certainly not the least best of our freshly made goods, is my utmost ultimate favorite ever, my special corn muffins with honey butter! It’s really the yummiest in my opinion, especially when I also add some pure honey drizzles on top, it’s so good!”

Harry should be annoyed, is the thing. The owner of a bakery should not be rambling this much in front of a customer, usually they offer suggestions when the customer is at a loss of what to order, but they never elaborate on what their favorites are so fondly as the omega had done. Harry doesn’t like talkative strangers in general, especially when they’re this up close to him saying things he didn’t technically need to hear.

But the adorable little omega baker is fucking shining while talking his ears off about her honey goods, how can Harry be annoyed with that? Especially now that she has seemed to take a deep breath after her lengthy sharing, arms crossing behind her back again as her chin dips a little lower, looking quite shy all of a sudden.

“Plus, I baked them all myself.” she shares in a little timid tone, tips of her pristine white sneakers with pearl embellishment turning inwards.

Harry actually coos this time, a deep pleased sound leaving his chest resulting for the omega to perk up in interest and slight surprise.

“You did?” Harry asks in a clearly charmed tone, almost sounding like he’s talking to a baby. “You baked all those delicious sounding honey treats yourself?”

“I did.” the girl replies more confidently this time, “I made all the batter last night before I closed the bakery and also placed and formed them in their specific baking sheets or molds. My lovely workers were the ones who placed it in the oven though, cause I wasn’t here for opening today. Though I’m kinda sad I wasn’t the one who did it.”

Now that just won’t do, this lovely omega cannot be sad under any circumstances, especially when Harry can help it.

“That sounds truly lovely, and absolutely delicious because you still made them even if you weren’t the one who placed it in the oven.”

The omega undeniably preens at the obvious compliment, “Really, you think so?”

“Of course,” Harry replies without missing a beat, “In fact, I want a taste of all three of those goodies now.”

The omega gasps, delicate hands coming up to cover her mouth in surprise, “Oh my god, really?” she asks, blue eyes widening once again.

Harry chuckles at her surprised reaction; he can’t really find anything that she does annoying and it instead looks absolutely precious to his eyes. “Yeah, I really, really want to try them out all. You’re a good sales talker, and probably a fantastic baker too if the pancakes I just ate earlier were any indication.”

Harry feels smug at the rosy flush that is now tinting the omega’s cheeks, the sides of her lips turned upwards almost bashfully. The alpha might have a reputation of being too serious and passive, but he won’t deny that he’s also got some enchanting tricks hidden on the sleeves of his silk shirts just waiting for the right ones to be unleashed on. And yes, this lovely omega is definitely one of the few.

‘Thank you,” she first replies in a sweet tone, “How about I fetch those honey treats for you before they turn cold? I bet I’ve already wasted a lot of your time by my long chats. Sorry about that, I just noticed you’re new here and I’m always excited to share my love for honey goodies to others, especially when they’re freshly baked. Sorry, I’m rambling again.”

Harry frowns after her apology, watching in distaste at the embarrassed expression on the omega’s face as she places a fallen lock of her hair behind her ear. He doesn’t like the way he feels when he sees her looking uncomfortable, like she did something bad.

“Hey, none of those apologies, you didn’t waste my time or anything.” In fact, Harry thinks, it’s completely the other way around cause you’re basically the light on the end of my designer block tunnel that has just saved me from getting anymore berating from my best friend. Obviously he can’t say that or it will surely overwhelm her.

“Actually, I need a refill on my sugar content so I can properly do my sketches now that I’ve already finished my portion of pancakes. Your baked goods will do just the trick, I’m sure.”

The girl still looks quite unsure, but Harry tries to settle her worries by giving her his most friendly smile that he can muster, and it probably worked when not a moment later she returns it.

“Alright, if you say so. I’ll just go and serve it to you.”

Harry nods his head in acknowledgement, allowing the girl to leave his side to get her baked goods. Harry sighs wistfully at the few moments of being back to his solace, feeling like his acting quite foolish for feeling so attached all of a sudden with just their first interaction.

The layout of her bakery even allows him to see the girl preparing his order due to the open kitchen layout of the bakery where there’s only the white marbled kitchen counter that is separating the kitchen from the dining area. Customers are able to see their food getting cooked or prepared, which is fantastic because all the amazing aromas of the honey infused food are always present.

Harry is actually enthralled at the cozy atmosphere this cottage style bakery is emulating. Everything is white and made mostly out of wood like that of the round tables and chairs, or the few shelves attached to the walls with little vintage trinkets displayed in them. The omega seems to love pastels as well, since it’s the only pop of color visible in her bakery.

From the pastel pink color of her vintage fridge, to the baby blue color of her toaster and coffee machine, it’s not a surprise that her mugs and plates she uses to serve customers are also in a pastel yellow like that of her apron and oven mitts. The lighting inside also almost feels quite whimsical with the warm and bright fairy lights scattered around the bakery, the vibe almost feeling like a magical cottage with fairies hiding somewhere in the various vases of flowers. Everything just feels homely and warm and utterly sweet and charming.

When she returned with a wooden tray filled with three little plates containing Harry’s order, the omega was now wearing a white cardigan with heart-shaped pearls as its buttons. Harry stands up from his seat to help her with the food regardless of her fruitless attempt of wanting to do it by herself. Harry’s a true gentleman regardless if he knows the person he’s helping or not, real credit to his mum for raising him well.

Harry was sure that the omega was going to leave his company the moment she’s placed all of Harry’s food on the table, still probably thinking that he wants her out of his way the quickest possible moment which is entirely far from the truth.

In fact, Harry’s going to channel his inner I’m-Confident-And-Charming-And-We-Both-Know-It-So-Don’t-Resist-It alpha within him that has gone very dormant after the lack of trying on his part to actually seriously charm someone. It’s been awhile since he’s fancied someone, it even feels as if he actually hasn’t properly fancied someone than in this moment, for the instant connection and warming feelings he’s feeling right now is quite foreign to him.

So, he puts his brave face on and calls for the omega’s attention when she did announce that she’d be leaving him to enjoy his food.

“Hm?” the girl hums in question and looks up at Harry from beneath her lashes. If Harry’s feeling really confident, he’d say that the look on her ocean blue eyes is one of relief that the alpha didn’t let their interaction end from there.

Harry smiles with his own dimples popping on his cheeks, “I just realized, I actually haven’t gotten your name. Is it by any chance, Sunflower, since you have a pin of it on the left upper side of your apron where people usually put their name placards on. If it is, I’d say it’s a beautiful name, quite fitting even.”

The melodious giggles she lets out once again leaves Harry waiting at the edge of his seat for more, eyes noticing the way her French tip nails on her slender fingers begin to toy at the crochet sunflower pin that Harry has just noticed.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” she says truthfully, “But I don’t think my parents wanted to name me after a flower so it’s actually Sophia, my name’s Sophia Ford.” and she waves her hand in a little greeting as if it’s the first time she’s going to talk to the alpha.

Harry dramatically sighs in relief, right hand clutching his chest in full effect, “Oh thank god your name wasn’t honey, or that would have been a real shame.”

An indignant squawk of surprise comes out of Sophia, both hands resting on her hips as she narrows her eyes at a now smirking Harry. The alpha thinks she’s supposed to be giving him a menacing look, but in reality it just translates to a cute disgruntled kitten face. Definitely not harmful looking from any angle.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I love the name honey.”

Harry snorts unattractively, “I mean clearly,” he replies while gesturing at the plated food on his table and then around the entire vicinity of the cottage bakery, “I’ll even go as far and say that you live and breathe the name honey.”

A loud laugh springs out of the omega all of a sudden, the volume startling Harry just a little bit as it’s the first time Sophia had really laughed instead of her little giggles. The high pitched noise was still melodious to his ears and Harry’s resigned to the fact that everything that probably comes out from the omega will always be a sweet sounding melody to him.

Jesus, since when did he become so much of a sap? Get it together, Styles!

Harry pushes his curls away from his face in a nervous gesture that he knows he does whenever he feels uncomfortable or as this situation brings forth for the first time, also when he’s skittish around a pretty omega lady that’s too adorable for this cruel world. He meets her blue eyes with a smile of his own, chuckling at himself quietly for the mushy and soft emotions that Sophia brings out of him without her even knowing it.

“I didn’t mean anything bad about it,” he clarifies, “I just knew myself that if your name were honey, I would have probably made countless puns about it and why you serve just everything honey in your bakery.”

Sophia seems interested in this, “Oh, so you’re the jokester in the friend group then? I adore funny people!”

Did she just say she adored him? I mean not directly but Harry still reacts to her statement with an undeniable flush creeping from his neck to the tips of his little ears. He chuckles instead when Sophia asks him to give her a little sample of his comedy.

“I’m flattered that you instantly thought I am a funny guy just from my simple statement. But to be honest, I’d rather not test my puns right now because I quite want to keep conversing with you without annoying you away with my jokes.”

Harry smirks, trying to keep it looking not too much of a cocky alpha when he notices Sophia blush unrestrainedly at the clear indication of his statement. What can he say, he apparently doesn’t have to channel anything deeper in him when it evidently comes quite naturally for him to charm possible mates. And yes, Harry’s mind is of course already running to mating when he had just met Sophia.

“Someone funny and an apparent charmer,” Sophia points out with a playful lift of an eyebrow, “I’d honestly enjoy continuing chatting with you if only for the fact that I don’t make the habit of talking to strangers.”

This time, Harry laughs a honking laugh, one that he’s only comfortable letting out with his friends and family. But the embarrassing loud noise doesn’t even horrify him regardless if he’s in the presence of a beautiful omega.

Sophia makes him feel comfortable, and it’s not the most surprising discovery he’s come across with today when he literally decided to center his whole new collection towards the girl in less than five minutes since he’s seen her in person.

“I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to be rude,” Harry lets out after controlling his laughter, “I’m Harry Styles, and let me just say your mother has raised you really well when you seem to remember the empirical importance of not talking to strangers. Kudos to your mum really, absolutely lovely she is.”

Giggling, Sophia shakes her head slightly at the alpha, “Nice to meet you, Harry. I really appreciate your kind words to my mother, and I can confirm that she is very lovely even if you actually haven’t met her yet.” The two are smiling at each other like idiots, “I would normally want to at least get to know someone better first before I take them to meet my mom for them to see how truly exquisite she is.”

Seems like Harry’s not the only one who’s innately enchanting when trying to look for a possible mate.

“Then let’s get to know each other better then,” Harry coyly replies, not one to waste the perfect opportunity Sophia had just unknowingly handed to him. “How about you take a seat here with me and walk me through the process of making these honey goodies while talking about each other to see how well our mothers raised us, because I have you know, my mother’s rather amazing too.”

Sophia looks totally surprised at Harry’s proposition, the alpha’s starting to realize that amidst the cheeky and playful character she’s showing right now, Sophia seems to be shy and gentle yet extremely friendly at her core.

Sophia crosses her arms on her back once more, Harry noticing something about her again and he thinks this is a nervous tick of the girl as he also notices the girl’s toes turned inwards to each other like earlier.

“I’m not sure,” Sophia replies in an apologetic tone, blue eyes looking conflicted, “I think I have to go back to the kitchen and help Georgie and Sabrina with some things.”

She pouts her lips towards the direction of the kitchen, Harry assuming that the names she had just mentioned were those of the two betas that are now currently looking at the two of them with pure interest in their features. Harry returns the highly interested smiles the two betas were giving them while cleaning some of the used plates and muffin pans, even waving his hand a little for proper pleasantries (and maybe to show them he’s a kind alpha that has good intentions with their boss) which they happily return.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks Sophia, eyes still trained on the two betas that don’t seem to be doing anything important or in need of the omegas' help.

If he’s being honest, he can feel the double meaning of the betas’ looks, those piercing eyes are surely filled with excitement and intrigue, like this doesn’t seem to be a normal scenario in their bakery. Which really, Harry is rather fucking thankful for because just the thought of other alphas (or based from Sophia’s innate beauty and kindness, whatever gender and secondary gender) taking the same interest and finding an instant connection with the omega, makes his skin crawl with anger, disgust, and jealousy.

Harry’s assumption was solidified when one of the betas winked at him, while the other gestured for him to continue chatting with their boss, while said boss is turned backwards to them. Harry smirked in triumph at the very green signal on having the right to monopolize Sophia’s attention right now, giving a little nod of thanks.

“I think your working bees can handle a few minutes by themselves, doesn’t seem like they need any help or anything,” Harry observes casually, Sophia looking behind her back to their kitchen where the two betas are trying their best to seem like they weren’t just watching the two of them intently a few seconds back.

“Well..” Sophia bites her lip, still in a clash of what to do. Harry’s quite distracted at the vision of her of her plump glossy baby pink lips being bitten down by her sharp pearly whites, shaking his head to clear the thought out before it progresses to something else that can result to a very unwanted stiffy, now that’s going to really scare the omega away.

Instead, Harry tries to soothe Sophia’s worries by calling to the two betas himself, “You guys are alright without Sophia there for a few minutes, yeah? It’s Georgie and Sabrina, right?” He throws them that big charismatic smile Glenne always tells him to do whenever he’s invited to red carpets, just to seal the deal for good measure really.

The two nod their heads rather more enthusiastically than necessary for such a simple question, Harry can’t help but chuckle as the two ladies talk over each other to share their agreement with him. Well, aren’t they excited to get rid of their boss? He doesn’t forget to introduce himself this time, not wanting them to think this is a one time only thing without the need for them to remember his name.

“I guess I can spare some time to be with you,” Sophia smiles prettily at Harry, “But I do have to go when more people come in.”

Harry nods in acknowledgement, standing up from his seat to pull out a chair for Sophia to sit on, “Lucky me, I guess. And don’t worry, I’ll share your time and attention when more customers arrive. But no promises if they’re cute little nans who will for sure steal all of your attention.”

Sophia’s bright sounding laugh is the perfect start to them getting to know each other over lingerie sketches and saccharine sweet honey treats.

*~*~*

The second time Harry returns to the cottage bakery, Sophia is the first person he sees upon entering. The omega seems to be in her element, whisking a bowl of batter for one of her honey goodies which he’s learned from their lengthy conversation yesterday is her passion and prerogative in life.

The Hunny Pot, is Sophia’s baby like that of Harry and his lingerie brand business. He’s learned that the omega grew-up in a loving home of beekeepers, both her parents inheriting the family business of cultivating and harvesting honey from their hundreds of bee colonies, in their bee farm located at the backyard of her childhood home.

Sophia was keen to involve bees in her future career for she has grown to love these magnificent creatures, but never found the knack of being an actual beekeeper. Instead, she wanted to pursue her culinary dreams which she discovered after a summer filled with baking in her nan’s kitchen when she stayed at her place in London that one time.

Coincidentally, it’s also the time she realized that the city life was not for her, which Harry can totally agree with. It’s like a breath of fresh air to get to know someone who has through and through grew-up in Cheshire without getting blinded by the promises of a better life in the busy urban city of London.

“Harry!” Sophia calls for him when she notices his arrival, “You really are a morning person, not that I doubted what you said yesterday.”

Harry chuckles at her honest statement, walking towards the kitchen counter where she is to greet her and make his order for a honey filled breakfast.

“Good morning, sunflower,” the pet name rolls off easily from his tongue, smiling in a bit of confidence at the way the omega visibly preens at it.

She surprises Harry further when she reaches over the kitchen counter to give him a hug, which he gladly accepts and truly basks in. This close to her proximity and her scent gland intensifies that floral and sweet honeysuckle and vanilla bean of her scent, going straight to fill all of the alpha’s senses.

“Morning, bunny.”

The syrupy tone of her greeting mixed with the use of her pet name for him, is the perfect concoction for Harry to almost groan in pleasure. The ‘bunny’ came from yesterday's conversation as well, when Harry shows him a few of his designs from his bunny designed sketchbook after telling her what he did for a living. That prompted her to ask him on how he does some of his sketches, and Harry can’t deny the kind girl of anything even this early on in their meeting and decides to bring out his bunny designed pencil case, containing his bunny designed colored pencils and pens, to do a short and easy live demonstration.

Obviously, Sophia notices the common theme of bunnies with his belongings, and Harry can’t even find it in himself to feel embarrassed when Sophia seemed very endeared and awed upon knowing that Harry didn’t mind (and actually really love) using them since it was a personal gift from his mom for his last birthday. And then the pet name stuck after that.

It’s crazy how it’s just day two of being just friends, and they already have their designated pet names for each other. Heck, Harry doesn’t even give specific pet names for his own friends or family members, Sophia is a definite special person to him if there’s not enough indications already.

“Feels good to prove you right,” Harry jokes as he rests his forearms on the kitchen counter, watching Sophia continue her baking prep business. “Something tells me you’re an early riser too, and that yesterday was just an anomaly from the ordinary.”

Sophia nods in a smile, the earlier liquid batter she was whisking has now formed to a soft dough, “Yeah, you’re correct. I like opening the bakery by myself, it feels just right to do so. Yesterday I wasn’t able to do it because I actually came from my parents house to pick-up more jars of honey for the bakery.”

Harry nods in understanding and interest. He’s acquired from Sophia that if he ever goes to Tesco or other commercial stores, he shouldn’t simply trust the shelved honey jars that are labeled ‘natural, locally-made honey’ because a lot of the time those big companies try to deceive their customers by placing such stickers on them without meaning it genuinely.

But if you go to The Hunny Pot, she can assure him that every variety of honey they use and sell is fresh, natural, and homemade. You can even ask her questions about their process of how they care for their bees and how they harvest the honey properly without harming the bees. It was highly informative, both for Harry getting to know Sophia’s passions, and that too of an educational level on the vital importance of bees in our ecosystem.

By the end of their talk, Harry shared that he was adamant to visit their family’s bee farm sometime in the future and learn how things are done first hand.

The omega didn’t turn down the idea in the slightest, she was actually overjoyed that Harry had expressed such thoughts saying that it was one of her main objectives in starting her bakery: to spread to others the significance of securing the propagation of bees while also sharing with them the benefits and tastiness of their honey.

If Harry wasn’t as hooked as before, the alpha’s certainly in deep now in whatever this pleasant thing that is brewing between them.

“Good to hear I’d be getting a hug in greeting from you every morning then,” Harry says in honesty, pointing a finger to a dimpling Sophia, “though I’m still holding to that promise of yours that I’d get to tag along the next time you make rounds to get a new batch of honey from your family farm.”

“Yes, I didn’t forget, don’t worry.” Sophia placates him easily, fetching a kitchen towel to wipe her hands with. “I’ll go get your order then?”

Harry dimples right back at her before nodding and moves along to the front of the till section of the kitchen counter to look at the aboved menu, written beautifully in cursive. His thumb and index finger raising unconsciously to pinch his bottom lip in thought.

“I think I’ll go for your honey pancakes again, with the honey butter. Though I’d like to try some of that cinnamon honey you recommended yesterday, and maybe a side of chopped bananas if you guys have some.”

Sophia dutifully types his order on the touch screen of her register, blue eyes gazing up curiously at Harry after, “What are the bananas for?”

Not a usual question to ask your customer, but Harry thinks they’ve established enough that it’s just not the route their relationship would stay at. They’re friends now at the very least.

“I just like bananas in general,” Harry shrugs conversationally, “but I do love some good banana pancakes for breakfast. And since you guys don’t have that specifically in the menu, I’ll just get it as a side.”

“I’ll just make you a separate pancake batter mixed with chopped bananas then.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Harry kindly dismisses her thoughtful suggestion, “don’t want to burden you with unnecessary extra work, bananas in a bowl is totally fine, unpeeled whole banana is totally fine too and I’ll just peel it myself.”

“Bunny,” Sophia giggles while trying to prep the ingredients for Harry’s banana pancakes because apparently his persuasive business skills does not work that easily with her, “it’s not a burden, it’s just banana pancakes, really. Plus, don’t even dare thinking that I’d serve my customer, especially a friend of mine, unpeeled bananas in a bowl. That just sounds utterly horrible.”

“Alright, if you insist then,” Harry surrenders with a grin on his face, “and sorry for insinuating something so horrific like serving unpeeled bananas, never again.”

“You better,” Sophia giggles while Harry watches her begging to crack eggs on a bowl, halting her movements with a measuring cup in one hand, “Oh, I didn’t get your beverage of choice.”

“Just some English breakfast tea, please. And maybe with a spoonful of fresh honey? What flavor do you reckon will match perfectly with it?”

“I think you’d like our peppermint honey, it gives a good cooling sensation to the taste of the tea. Plus, you smell like peppermint so I think you’d naturally like it.”

The pleased smirk that begins to form on Harry’s face is uncontrollable, especially when he sees the rosy tint that begins to develop on the apples of Sophia’s cheeks upon realizing what she had just said.

It is not uncommon nor rude to notice someone’s scent. In fact, it’s part of the biology of their secondary genders to find smells that either attract or repel them, these personal and unique scents were innate to them for this specific reason. It’s just that people nowadays tend to veer away from using scent as the primary reason to get together with someone, which in Harry’s opinion is just rightfully so. Basing one's commitment to the other just solely on their scent and nothing else, does not provide someone a comprehensive understanding of what they're getting themselves into.

Thus, it is quite rare in today’s time for someone to mention it straight to the face of someone, people preferably keeping it to themselves if they like or dislike someone’s scent. For Harry, he actually appreciates when people compliment his scent, not that Sophia just did but mentioning it in front of him without a face of disgust is a good indication that she probably does.

“So does that mean you naturally like vanilla beans too?” Harry cheekily replies in return, the faint gasp that leaves Sophia’s glossy baby pink lips is not unheard.

Sophia hums instead in lieu of a verbal response, “Mhm, I do love adding some vanilla bean honey on my tea, though I like green tea better than English tea.”

She swiftly prepares the batter of Harry’s banana pancakes, clearly attuned with her cooking skills as she does it quickly yet efficiently with refined moves. Harry thinks she doesn’t want to talk about scents anymore and begins thinking of other topics they can talk about while she’s cooking when the latter surprises him with a question.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” Sophia suddenly squeaks, embarrassment coloring her face when Harry gives her a look of confusion, “Me mentioning that you smell like peppermints? I’m sorry if it did, it’s just that it was so prominent when I gave you a hug earlier and it didn’t seem to want to leave my senses that I just blurted it out so randomly. Now I think I just upset you, I’m so sorry.”

‘Hey, hey,” Harry softly says, walking to go behind the kitchen counter (cause he apparently can’t help his typically reserved self) to go beside her and hold her hands in his. Sophia looks more despondent when he does, thinking he would probably just go near her to berate her face to face or something absurd like that.

Instead, he coaxes her to turn her downcast eyes to look at him as he reaches for her delicate hands before he squeezes their now held hands reassuringly. She feels warm, soft, and tiny; his big paws absolutely cover her tiny hands. Harry’s breath hitches a little when the sweet little omega has to raise her head a little just to look at him, such a precious tiny creature.

“I’m not upset, sunflower, not even in the slightest.” Harry reassures the hesitant omega, he doesn’t know how but he can somehow smell the slight agitation and fear in her scent that has gradually changed from its really sweet note earlier, and he doesn’t like that one bit, keen to change it back as soon as possible.

“Are you sure?” Sophia says meekly, “Because I made the same mistake with my other friends before, like I mentioned their scents out of the blue but I didn’t say anything mean or awful and they said it was alright. But then I overheard them talk behind my back how they honestly thought it was a rude thing for me to do.”

She was frowning deep while remembering such moments, Harry feeling irritation entered his system upon hearing some twats that have the audacity to talk behind Sophia’s back and call the sweet little thing rude.

“Well they’re the rude ones for not being adult enough to say their true feelings in front of your face,” Harry replies with conviction, “Besides, scents are a big part of our biology, I don’t understand what’s so unethical about bringing it in a conversation. I personally don’t care when people do, I actually like it when people compliment it.”

“You do?” Sophia asks in a hopeful tone, as if seeking for further reassurance that she didn’t mess up anything which she didn’t (and never did, that’s for you twats who called her rude).

“Yeah, I do,” Harry nods, “I feel somewhat pleased that people can notice something so innate and unique about me and the fact it’s rare for someone to say that nowadays is something I can’t completely grasp, like it’s part of who we are as human and our secondary genders and we can’t take that away. If someone likes my scent, I honestly give them the free reign to say it to me, it makes me feel appreciated on some level, you know?”

“I like your scent bunny,” Sophia bravely replies, the alpha feeling a sense of enamour at seeing such confidence spring out from her when she was nothing but shy and apologetic seconds ago. “It’s minty and cool like peppermint, but you also have deep hints of sandalwood which is such an earthy scent that makes me feel warm all over at the same time.”

Although Sophia says this to him with her wide eyes trained solely on Harry’s green orbs, the latter can still detect her inner timidness through the unrelenting blush scattered all over her face now. Added with the shaky tone of her voice, Harry knows this is a novelty experience for Sophia, complimenting someone about their scent, and he’s right proud for her surge of confidence and honesty.

“You smell like honeysuckle and vanilla bean,” Harry notes, letting go of one of Sophia’s hands to place a fallen strand of her silky blonde hair, loving the way she tilts her head to follow the touch of his hand. “Just the perfect scent blend of sweet, creamy, and floral all mixed together so harmoniously that I almost feel like it’s meant for people to inhale and get addicted to. I definitely like it.”

A dopey smile graces Sophia’s features, she lets out a pleased sounding sigh, “Yeah, I agree”

“That you smell really good and perfect?”

“No,” she giggles, taking hold of Harry’s hand that had decided to linger on her face to thumb softly at her dimpled cheek, “That people should compliment others about their scents more, because it makes people feel appreciated. I felt appreciated when you said those nice words about mine.”

“And I felt appreciated when you noticed my scent earlier too,” Harry points out as a means to show her as a whole his earlier point of not being upset about anything, “So next time, don’t worry your pretty little head about things like that around me, I just want you to feel comfortable to be always honest with what you feel and think around me. I’m not going to judge, that’s just not who I am.”

Sophia nods her head in acknowledgement, “Likewise, I’m not a judgy person so you can be honest with me at all times.” and then she mumbles quietly just for Harry to hear, “I just want to be your good friend so I promise I won’t worry so easily and I’d just talk to you about what I feel.”

“You are my good friend already,” Harry doesn’t hesitate to tell her in earnest, not wanting her to think she has to bare her entire body and soul for her to gain a place in his life. In fact, Harry might be the one who will accidentally bare his entire body and soul to her with how much he already feels for her when they’re supposedly just friends. But that’s another thought for another day, he knows.

“Really? So you wouldn't need me to compliment your scent anymore to feel appreciated?” the omega quips in a teasing tone making Harry chuckle at her wonderfulness.

“I mean, if you want to, I wouldn’t be opposed to it at all.” Harry responds nonchalantly as if he’s not bursting at the seams with joy on the inside just thinking about the prospect of being blessed enough to hear Sophia say words of admiration for his scent every time he does his morning order because best believe, Harry will be returning here every breakfast until the foreseeable future.

“Okay.” Smiling innocently, the omega moves her head a little bit to the side and delivers a tiny peck on Harry’s thumb, the plumpness of her lips mixed with the sticky layer of gloss that makes her lips dazzle creates this sharp and enticing sensation within Harry.

He can’t believe she just did that, he can’t believe he just got a feel of her lips. Harry can’t fathom anything right now.

Sophia kisses his thumb once again for good measure, most probably not noticing the dazed look on Harry’s face and how her simple actions are causing an uproar of heavenly feelings within him.

“Alright, now go find a seat and wait for me to finish making your order. I don’t want you standing up so long here waiting for it when I like to take my time making everything perfect.”

Oh how Harry would love to take his time making her feel perfect.

But he can’t say that or else someone might actually be upset and he wouldn’t want that in the slightest. Instead, he lets go of his hold on any parts of Sophia (very reluctantly might he add) and tries to return her charming beam before choosing the nearest table to the side of the kitchen counter. A way to prevent himself from accidentally blurting out something he might regret while still being near the proximity of the omega.

As much as he would be totally content in coming to the cottage bakery to do nothing and just look and bask in Sophia’s magnificent aura, he actually really needs to continue with his lingerie sketching for his new collection. Granted that he has found his muse, it won’t magically make clothes appear out of thin air no matter how much people say love is the most powerful thing in the world. He needs to exert actual effort for his ideas to come in tangible fruition.

Harry allows himself one last interaction with Sophia when the latter serves him his breakfast, thanking her profusely for her kindness that she took the extra mile to actually make him banana pancakes when she didn’t have to. The ever-darling omega just waves him off with her delicate hand matched with the adorable craters on her cheeks.

It’s quite a good thing that shortly after, customers began to trickle in the bakery including her two beta workers. Harry sees the way the two omegas seemed surprised upon catching Sophia and him conversing again today and he makes sure to greet them a good morning so they can start slowly getting used to his presence here. Their lingering stares he also feels when he reaches for Sophia’s hand to give it a little squeeze of goodbye and talk to you later when she needs to go back to work and tend to the growing hungry customers waiting for their orders to be taken and prepared.

Sighing wistfully, Harry retrieves his needed materials to continue his sketch of the first piece which is the slip dress, smiling like a fool when he sees the prints of bunnies on his materials thinking how something so unimportant to him before suddenly has a special meaning to it now. Jesus, he really has it bad already and is yet to harness this newly found inspiration into something actually productive.

He looks at his unfinished sketch from yesterday, instantly deciding to change a detail in the bust area to add a little window-like opening to show some bit of skin like that of the front cut in Sophia’s mint green gingham dress that she’s wearing today. The lace trimmings on the cups of the dress, Harry decides to retain as he really liked how it looked on the omega’s outfit yesterday. But he chooses to add slits on the side of the slip dress and add the same white lace trimmings to it because he believes it’s the lacking factor from Sophia’s exquisite dress the day before.

It was a definite no brainer for Harry to make the back of the dress backless, with quite a low cut. Just imagining the stunning curve of Sophia’s back on the dress and how it would perfectly be accentuated by this sexy, yet demure style of slip dress, has Harry sketching her the dress in the first place.

Harry then proceeded to finalize the fabrics he would use, already bringing out his laptop to email his sewing team that he needs these specific textures and colors while also answering to other work emails that he can’t ignore just because he’s moved out of London.

Jeff (and Glenne because the two come in a package to always torment Harry’s life) will have his head if he concludes to leave his baby in London and find a new baby - like a literal one - in Cheshire. Harry had been seriously appalled when the two voiced that concern to him just right before he was making the move, like what, did they just think Harry would wed and bed the first omega he sees and fancies in Cheshire?

Well, when he thinks about it now, maybe his close friends are not that far off?

Putting that serious (and quite alarming?) thought away, Harry carries on with whatever work he needs to accomplish for today. The high of finishing his first sketch for the very first piece of his new collection, prevented the alpha from noticing how the time had just flown by past him. His work reverie only being broken down by a familiar cough that illuminates his positive energy even more.

He turns his attention to his side to where a smiling Sophia is standing, both hands clasped in her front, “Hi!”

“Hey,” Harry responds, not failing to notice the strawberry pink cardigan that is now worn by the omega and how the color would most probably look good on her lips as well, “What’s up, sunflower?”

“Well it’s lunch time already and I noticed you were so engrossed in your work that you might forget to take a break and eat if I don’t come here myself to ask for your order.”

Her natural caring instincts makes Harry beam, not being one to be subjected to such caring attention aside from his mother, “My bad, I really get quite into it when I’m working on something, especially when it’s a new collection. Sorry for making you stand up and all, let me just pack up a bit of my stuff before I head to the till to order.”

“Oh, no it’s alright, H.” Sophia cuts in, gesturing her arms for him to not stand up and start packing away, “It’s absolutely not a bother to ask for your order in your seat, I actually wanted to do it so you don’t get distracted from whatever your working on or get extra tired from coming up to the till.”

Harry wants to say that the kitchen counter is literally five steps away from where he’s sitting, but he finds himself accepting her natural attentive nature and thinks that the girl might feel bad if Harry just doesn’t accept what she had wanted to do for him as she had just clearly stated.

“Thank you, sunflower, very nice of you to offer me such luxury of being the only customer that the owner of the bakery comes up to and takes their order on their seat like some sort of alpha.” he jokes eliciting a laugh from himself and Sophia.

“Shut up,” a flushed Sophia says in a laugh, “And news flash: you are an alpha.”

“And alphas get really hungry,” Harry says, hands tapping his flat belly that he knows would growl in hunger any minute now, “What’s in the freshly baked menu today, chef? I think I need a good hearty one cause I honestly feel like I can eat an entire elephant-size amount of food with how hungry all that sketching made me feel.”

Giggling at his dramatics, Sophia begins to list down verbally the freshly baked honey goods for lunch. Harry must be completely hungry or tired because he zones out the entire time Sophia was talking, focusing only on the tuneful lilt of her voice making his mind swirl in a syrupy sweet orbit.

“So, what’s your pick?” Sophia excitedly exclaims, breaking Harry’s honeyed-out haze.

“How about you pick for me?” Harry replies in lieu of saying ‘I actually got lost in your beautiful tone so I didn’t understand anything you said, but you sounded really beautiful so don’t feel offended or anything.’

Sophia quirks an eyebrow good naturedly, “Are you sure? You might now like what I pick.”

“Nah, I can pretty much eat anything, sunflower. I think it would be good if you actually pick food for me to widen my palette because if it were my decision, I’d stick to banana pancakes every time. Breakfast was really marvelous, by the way. Thanks again for making it.”

Sophia accepts his answer and tells Harry to stop thanking her because it was really a no big deal. He lets her believe what she wants to believe because he’s a giving man like that as Sophia makes her way back to the kitchen to pick his lunch for him.

He thinks he made the right choice of giving her that power as he’s presented with five different kinds of scones that range from sweet to savory flavors that, of course, still have an element of honey in them. Harry had given Sophia a feign frown of repulsion at the meaning behind her serving him five scones like some sort of hungry animal.

“You did say you can eat an amount of food as big as an elephant earlier,” Sophia points out with a squinting of her eyes at him.

“That was me joking and exaggerating, it was not for you to think I’m an actual pig of an alpha who eats a lot of food.”

“There’s nothing wrong about eating, just enjoy it, bunny. And you’re not a pig, you’re just an adult alpha who needs more sustenance than the rest of us.”

“How are you so understanding?” Harry can’t help but say in awe.

Sophia shrugs her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t be cute but it is when she does it, “It’s just human decency, I guess. I’m not going to judge or criticize someone just because of the amount of food they eat, they’re not harming anyone while doing it.”

Oh what an omega of his own heart, Harry swoons with his cheeks dimpling in a smile, nose scrunching in his utter desire to keep this sweet little creature in his pocket to protect forever from all those other horrible people that don’t understand the vitality of practicing human decency like the two of them share.

Sophia leaves him shortly after to attend to a group of nans who wanted a refill of their teas (see, Harry knew the lovely little oldies would charm and steal all of Sophia’s attention away from him) as Harry begins to dig in the array of wonderful smelling scones in front of him. Not even a full 15 minutes and he devoured all of them.

So it might not be a surprise when Harry stands up this time to head to the till to order the honey cookies he absolutely enjoyed from yesterday to a smirking Georgie who was currently tending the register.

And maybe it also shouldn’t be a surprise that no matter all the ardent attention Sophia would give to all the nans in the bakery, Harry’s sure he’s the only lucky one who gets three extra honey cookies in his plate from the naturally caring and gracious omega that doesn’t care that he eats a lot.

*~*~*

The next few times Harry visits the bakery early in the morning, Sophia does not only make him his banana pancakes without prompt, but she also greets him in a warm hug like the perfect morning sun that lights up Harry’s day the moment he sees her radiating so bright.

They also made it a little fun game between them to choose for each other on what flavor of honey they would be adding in their cuppas. Harry only thinks it was a justified response for Sophia to join him in his morning cuppa with her cup of matcha after the omega had decided to be a little minx and placed lemon flavored honey on his tea. He can’t be the only one suffering with a highly unattractive soured face while she goes about having her fun.

Although Harry does not have it in his heart to add any repulsing flavored honey that wouldn’t match her drink. So call him a sap all you want but he rather appreciates to keep seeing Sophia’s chuffed expression for every sweet honey flavor he places on her matcha. Harry can have all the sour ones and you won’t hear him complain as long as Sophia remains to be the sweet little bee that she is like the white chocolate infused honey Harry chose for her that day.

Another new somewhat permanent feature that they’ve found in this routine of theirs is that Harry now always takes residence on the table nearest to the kitchen counter. He’s one of the first customers of the bakery every morning so the seat was always free. It’s not like he has ulterior motives for always picking that seat, like observing the way Sophia carefully transfers honey into her personalized mini jars with pastel colored bows, or how she has a specific manner of plating her honey creations that exudes a lot of finesse and precision.

Yup, Harry definitely did not pick the best seat in the house for any reason.

It’s a blessing that Harry is still able to work efficiently in the bakery regardless of the newfound attention and care he’s receiving from Sophia. It still takes him a second look on his watch to make sure he reads the right time whenever he realizes that the day is already half way done. This scenario happens so frequently that Sophia has taken it upon herself to just serve him whatever fresh baked goods they had that day for lunch without even asking him.

When it first happened, Harry was not only surprised but he also felt bad for once again not being present enough to check the time. The omega baker has told him quite a few times already how she doesn’t like it that Harry seems to forget about his health and well-being whenever he's too deep into his work.

Normally, Harry would retort that it’s really not the first time he has neglected lunch time when he has a new collection stewing, but Sophia’s narrowed blue eyes and downward curl of her lips is enough for Harry to concede and believe that skipping lunch today would exceptionally deteriorate his health.

So he really made it a mission of his to be more conscious of his time to not worry or upset the omega. But he’s yet again forgotten that time and now Sophia was now placing various plates of honey pastries for him like an entitled alpha.

That thought had bothered Harry thinking that he might have made Sophia feel like she needed to serve him food without him asking for it like some sort of autocratic and spoiled prick that’s just waiting for people to tend to him. His anxious thoughts were soothed by Sophia as she had made him sit back on his seat after the frenzied way he stood to apologize to her, standing between his parted thighs to cup both of his cheeks in her gentle hold.

“Harry, what are you talking about? You’re not an entitled prick so stop apologizing,” she said in a firm tone, thumbs gently stroking his cheeks as a little timid smiles curls on her glossed lips, “I wanted to serve you food because I think it’s the most sustainable way to do so since you always forget to take track of your time. And before you apologize again, I see that you’re trying to follow my requests of taking better care of your health for not eating late. I just think that the best solution is for me to just serve you your food without interrupting your work to ask for what you want when you just let me pick it out for you every time.”

When she placed it that way, it made complete sense. But Harry still felt bad regardless.

“I still feel quite upset though,” Harry confessed in a pout, “don’t want you ever thinking that I’m entitled of your hospitality like those other bigoted alphas. I’m not like them, I promise, sunflower.”

“And I know you aren’t, far from it, bunny,” Sophia replies softly as if talking to a stressed child, a little sigh escaped her lips and a rosy tint begins to bloom on her skin which got the alpha’s attention, “You’re not a spoiled alpha either, since it was my free agency to spoil you with my care and attention. I don’t think that makes you spoiled if I believe it isn’t.”

And Harry just about almost busted a knot right then and there. Almost, he said almost, don’t you worry he’s not really a filthy alpha.

Instead, Harry had looked at the omega like she was the most ethereal and unreal creature on this earth. A dreamy sigh had certainly escaped his lips a thousand times that day when Sophia had finally soothed him well enough to leave and continue her work while he pined from a far (it was only five feet away but semantics really) thinking how fucking blessed he is for having met the omega.

Harry might have said he feared that she thought he was spoiled, but he doesn’t feel any ounce of guilt when Sophia returns to his table much later in the afternoon, spoiling him further with a baby blue floral printed plate filled with his slowly becoming favorite: honey cookies.

When they had first conversed and Sophia had shared that these cookies were addicting and that she once ate ten of them in one sitting, Harry thought it couldn’t possibly be as addicting as her scent.

But boy is he wrong. On a regular afternoon Harry consumed eleven honey cookies. And in a particularly amazing afternoon where he was just feeling exceptionally ravenous, Harry had devoured twenty honey cookies in one sitting.

So the alpha is hooked not only by the enamoring aura of the baker omega, but that too of her amazing honey treats which if Harry doesn’t know any better, he would assume she places some sort of witch craft into her batter, no doubt about that.

At this point, it’s really just a cherry on the top of everything sensational when he feels Sophia take a deep breathe of his scent when they hug in the mornings (or at lunch as a thanks when Sophia serves him his food, in the afternoon when Sophia asks if he wants more honey cookies, or when he has to leave to call it a day; Harry’s not picky with their hugs) and then proceeds to compliment him about it because she somehow thinks he deserves to be appreciated so much more than he already feels in her company.

So maybe Jeff and Glenn are right to fear that he's going to be finding a new baby now that he has moved back to the countryside.

His baby sunflower.

*~*~*

It’s the first time in two weeks that Harry entered the cottage bakery after lunch instead of early in the morning.

The first thing he notices upon just a few more walks before he reaches the place, is the constant opening and closing of the door allowing the heavenly scents of baking honey delights to travel outside in the crisp England air. Harry feels something pleasant tug in his stomach, lips curling up in their own accord at the prospect of finally getting a whiff of a much more divine scent of honeysuckle and vanilla bean from someone pretty special inside the bakery.

The alpha politely holds the door open for a couple of people that are leaving the bakery, smiling politely at a few of them who he knows are also neighborhood people that frequent The Hunny Pot. Upon finally entering, Harry notices the lengthy line that has formed within the bakery, not at all used to seeing such organized chaos as his often shut out from his surroundings by this time in his favorite corner nook working away with his eyes intervally taking a peek on the whereabout of the owner of the shop to check how she’s doing.

Except today seemed to be of the normal kind as he notices that his usual table is currently occupied by three omegas upon nearing the front of the line in the till section. Technically, there’s no such thing as designated seats here so Harry shouldn’t feel put out about this, it’s just bloody seats. But he can’t help the little irked feeling that rises within him when he’s right beside that seating area as the line progresses.

First of, he feels the blatant stares the three omegas are throwing his way and he doesn't like that at all. Granted that his line of work in the fashion scene made it synonymous for him to be frequently ogled at, Harry does not appreciate it when it happens outside any fashion events, particularly in his neighborhood bakery where he’s supposed to feel comfortable and normal, not his public confident and somewhat cocky public persona as one of London’s most successful and well-known bachelor fashion designers.

But what really raises his hackles is their mixed scent that is now permeating his favorite space.

Harry does not want to smell anything in his usual corner nook other than the peppermint and sandalwood tones of his scent, and Sophia’s honeysuckle and vanilla bean goodness. Any other scent than that around his working space, repulses Harry. Well maybe repulse is such a strong word, but it’s definitely in the lines of complete distaste.

Harry’s frowning by the time he reaches the front of the line, already thinking of borrowing one of Sophia’s floral scented disinfectant spray to use later when the three omegas have left. He thinks that would at least reduce the scent of strangers without him having to tell the omega herself to scent his work nook like some sort of territorial nest.

He is so displeased by the idea of having lost the comforting smell of Sophia in his favorite spot that he does not notice instantly the look of pure worry on said omega’s face.

“Harry, oh my god you’re here!” Sophia exclaims far too loudly in the front of the register, surprising Harry.

His frown deepens when he smells strong tones of worry and distress in Sophia’s scent, expression going tensed and rigid at the possible scenarios that might have caused that change in her scent.

“What happened?” Harry finds himself asking without any preamble of a greeting, “What’s wrong, sunflower? Who hurt you?” The hard edge of his tone is not mistaken for anything but serious business.

Sophia’s eyes skirt to the side, Harry following the path of her eyes in quick succession which lands to the earlier aforementioned three omega ladies sitting on his spot. His nostrils flare in displeasure as he glances a look at Sophia again, only to see the omega biting her lip in some agitated tell with her wide blue eyes darting from him and at the table just near her side.

“Sunflower, tell me what they fucking did to you so I can make it better,” Harry says through gritted teeth. If his annoyance earlier was quite insignificant in some regards, well if the way Sophia’s eyes widen like saucers after he just asked that to her, Harry is starting to feel the furious protective alpha side of his seep through his veins alerting him of possible threat.

When Sophia remains mute at her stand behind the register with her mouth agape in shock, her scent still remains smelling of unease and panic, Harry’s jaw tenses harder with his fists curling up so tight that his knuckles are white. The fact that the normally communicative and honest girl has been left speechless right now, speaks volumes of alarm to the alpha.

“If you’re not going to say anything sunflower, I’m going to take care of it myself,” fueled by unbridled anger, Harry turns to make the short distance to the table filled with purpose, his willed force breaking in an instant upon the cry of plea from the omega that suddenly strains his ears.

“Alpha!” panic and distress drips all over Sophia’s voice, everything in Harry forgets all of his earlier anger just from that one word utterance from her.

“Don’t go,” the omega pleads in alarm, wide blue eyes casted with a glassy sheen, “alpha don’t leave me here, please!” her arms are outstretched as if she’s trying to reach for the angered riddled Harry without provoking him even further.

It’s one thing for Sophia to call on Harry when she needs help with lifting heavy things when she’s cooking in the kitchen, and a completely different thing when an omega calls for an alpha in downright pleading nature.

Harry has not moved faster in his life as he drifts back in front of Sophia, hands reaching across the kitchen counter to cradle her face in his shaking hold. He sees the way Sophia visibly calms down the moment his skin touches hers, the omega’s own hands clasps around his wrists in a tight squeeze, the contact anchors the two away from the swaying currents of indignation and worry.

With Sophia’s eyes closed, Harry is able to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm his relatively still agitated state, “Omega, I cannot simply be here to comfort you when I know you’re not telling me what they did to you so I can make everything completely better.”

Sophia’s eyes flutter open, panic no longer pooled around her irises though a tint of worry is still clouding over her blue orbs, “They didn’t do anything to me, alpha. You don’t need to fix anything anymore, just stay here with me.”

“Are you being truthful with me or you just don’t want me to cause a scene that’s why you’re not telling me what really happened?”

Before Sophia can reply to his firm question, a third voice breaks their little tensed cocoon.

“You’re already causing a scene, Harry,” Sabrina states matter of factly as she eyes the two with obvious concern, “Soph, why don’t you take Harry with you in the backroom for a few minutes so you can also take that rest I’ve been coaxing you to do since earlier.”

Little alarm bells hackles in Harry’s mind once again, “Why has she needed to take a rest since a while ago?” he asks in a deep frown, eyes turning back from the omega still grasping his wrists and the determined beta on her side.

“It’s nothing serious, Harry,” Sabrina exhales, “Alright, Soph, go take him in the backroom for the both of you to talk and calm down or something, Georgie and I will take care of the bakery first.”

Sophia nods in response, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on Harry’s wrists, “Okay, I’ll be back in a few, don’t worry.”

Sophia drops her hold on Harry, the latter already prepared for protests that all of his questions are being answered half heartedly as she rounds her way to go beside him. Harry finds it to be the perfect opportunity to train her gaze on the three omega suspects still sitting on his coroner nook, eyes hardening in warning as he looks at the three ladies that are now slowly turning pale around the edges at being subjected from such a heated stare of displeasure coming from an alpha.

“I suggest the three of you to tell me right now what you did to Sophia before I lose all my patience and start listing the reasons why it’s such a disgrace for omegas to gang-up on other fellow omegas like you don’t even know how hard it is already to be an omega in this society. Do you guys have no human decency for fucks sake?!”

Harry’s unrelenting and honest outburst is halted by the little hand worming its way on his balled up fists, tension slightly leaving his form in having Sophia’s anchoring touch back.

“Alpha, stop.” Sophia chastises him firmly, “I already told you they didn’t do any harm to me, you’re just scaring my customers away.”

Harry looks down at Sophia who is now starting to tug his hand in some sort of retreat, with a tone of disbelief he replies, “Well they should be scared of coming here in the first place with malice intentions instead of pure ones like everyone else. You’re not losing any customers if it’s the likes of them.”

“Harry!” Sophia loudly gasps in affront, “I said stop it already, you’re coming with me now.”

Harry allows her to drag him by his hand to the backroom if only for the incentive of finally getting full answers to his questions because in the end, Harry’s priority is Sophia’s safety and well-being and not to educate other omegas on why they shouldn’t treat others badly cause they should already know that for it’s common sense.

Although he does spare one last glance of warning at the three omegas that still have the audacity to stay in his corner nook, except now he can clearly see that it’s the last place they want to be in right now. Good, that should teach them a lesson.

“Stop looking at them,” Sophia chides him as they stop in front of a door with Harry’s head still turned towards the direction of the busy dining area of the bakery, “Alpha come on, focus your attention on me.”

Like a knee-jerk reaction, Harry’s gaze locks down on Sophia’s eyes, both arms wrapping around the omega as a form of complete compliance to her request. “Is something the matter, omega? What do you need my full attention for? Is something wrong, what hurts?”

Instead of the cry of hurt that the highly worried Harry is expecting, Sophia’s heavenly giggles are what is presented to him. “Why are you so worried? Such a silly alpha.”

Harry does not understand her strange reaction to his justified worried attitude when the omega has yet to divulge on everything that he had asked concerning her well-being since earlier. Nevertheless, Harry follows Sophia inside the backroom which he assumes is their little break room and office.

With a slight look around, Harry can tell that it still followed the same all white motif of the bakery with the added pops of pastels scattered around the room like the peach couch in the side and the pastel yellow iMac in one of the desks which he already knows without a doubt is Sophia’s. His little glance around is interrupted by the soft call of his name and sees Sophia sitting nicely on the peach couch as she taps the area beside her for him to take a seat.

There’s a little smile in her glossed lips that Harry knows is there as part of the means to calm his agitated inner alpha, but Harry finds himself shaking his head a little in refusal causing an instant downward tilt on the side of her lips.

Not wanting the panicked expression to return in Sophia’s features, Harry quickly replies with his excuse, “Omega, I do not think I can sit properly beside you without still having the slightest clue on why you looked so distressed and upset earlier. I need to be able to see you if you want me to remain calm.”

Harry runs his hands through his long curls as a way to lessen the stress he’s feeling all the way up to his fingertips, eyes finding Sophia’s pout on her comfortable seat on the couch.

“But I need you beside me if you want me to be calm,” Sophia rebuttals in a little whine that Harry in this high alert state cannot ignore no matter how conflicted he feels.

“Compromise, how about a compromise,” It’s not a question but more of a statement that Harry heavily breathes out, walking to shorten the distance between them as he stands in front of Sophia. The latter gives him a confused look before it morphs to one of understanding and relief when Harry slowly drops his bum on the floor and crosses his legs together in a comfortable sitting position on the floor. His big ringed hands grasping the omega’s dainty ones in a warm hold.

“My attention is all yours from here on out,” Harry strongly shares, “Now will you please let me out of my misery omega before I completely lose my mind out of concern over you.”

It might be a tad bit dramatic to say but Harry is genuinely serious when he said that no matter his natural flair of being a slightly dramatic diva. It graces an amused little smile from Sophia’s lips, gently tugging their clasped hands closer to her.

“I don’t understand what I have to say more for you to believe me,” Sophia softly replies, eyes falling on the glistening rings on Harry’s fingers, “I promise that those omegas earlier didn’t do anything to me, nothing at all. I really want you to stop being angry and worried over me for no reason, alpha.”

Harry sighs, not liking the sad tune of her voice for thinking that he doesn’t believe her, “Omega, I believe you but you have to understand where I’m coming from too. I entered the bakery today and saw you looking so worried for the first time since I met you. What made it worse is that I actually smelled the panic and worry in your scent which you know, I am very attuned to.”

Sophia slightly drops her head in a timid nature, “Okay, I get where you’re coming from. But as I’ve said, you don’t have to be so troubled about me even if I smelled of panic and worry, like it was because of a silly reason and not something so deep.”

Harry frowns, not appreciating the way she can just simply downturn her feelings as something silly and not worth of care and attention, “I don’t think it’s silly when you called for me in distress, cried for my alpha in distress.”

The redness that starts to bloom all over Sophia’s exposed skin matches quite perfectly with her pink square neckline dress, blue eyes peeking through her mascara coated lashes to look at Harry’s soul, “Was that bad? Did it make you feel uncomfortable?”

Give it to Sophia, the sweetest omega on earth who thinks Harry being called an alpha is something disagreeable that made him feel uncomfortable when in reality, it’s anything but that. Granted that it’s unusual for people to call others by their secondary gender if they’re not mates, since when did Harry pay close attention to following such unnatural societal norms that deprives people from accessing their inner, primal selves.

“Of course not, sunflower,” Harry assures her in an endeared tone, squeezing their intertwined hands in comfort, “it might have alerted my alpha on full protective mode but it also centered me a bit to focus my attention on your well-being and not letting my mind wander to ways that I can do to avenge you from your perpetrators.”

Sophia giggles at his wording, “Well thank jesus there weren’t any real perpetrators to avenge me for.”

“I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that you were downright distressed and I had the right to worry over you.”

And that’s the hard truth. Harry cannot simply be scolded for his earlier actions when his primal protective instinct as an alpha was brought out by a clearly upset omega. Harry thinks that Sophia might not know the magnitude of how he felt earlier to the point that he wanted to climb over the kitchen counter to drape himself all over her while his nose drops down to her scent gland to scent her.

Scenting is a way to stake claim over someone’s mate or as Harry wanted to accomplish earlier, was to scent Sophia as a means to release calming pheromones that can lessen her panicked state. Scenting strangers is a blatant scandal, while scenting friends and family members is also not agreeable in society. Now, Harry and Sophia are just friends, although they both know they’re pretty close (way closer) than normal just friends, that other people in his position would think it’s justifiable like the earlier situation for scenting to occur. But Harry is not like the others, his alpha who would not scent anyone without their consent regardless if the omega was frazzled and in clear need of calming.

Besides, they’re in this weird position of being way more close than usual friends but less intimate than a standard couple that Harry cannot just step over that invisible line that might blur everything all together. Call him cliché all you want, but Harry would rather remain as simply, a hundred percent just Sophia’s friend instead of stepping that line and coming on the other end scaring the omega away not wanting both his romantic love but also his platonic affection.

“It’s still embarrassing though,” Sophia mumbles almost to herself, quiet enough that Harry’s sharp alpha hearing came in handy this time.

“Then it’s okay if it’s embarrassing,” Harry conceded, “because it’s just me and when did I ever care if you’re embarrassing? All I want is for you to feel comfortable and truly honest with me, and that includes whether something is embarrassing or not.”

Maybe it should be a revelation in some form when Sophia whimpers audibly for Harry, tugging their touching hands for reasons Harry cannot understand.

“What? What do you want, omega?”

Another whimper leaves Sophia’s lips, although this time it has an added tone of annoyance like she can’t fathom why Harry is not complying to her. Well Harry can’t give her what she wants when she doesn’t ask for it verbally, a surprise yelp leaving him when Sophia launches herself at him almost toppling the both of them on the floor as she wraps both legs around his waist and arms snaking around his neck, Harry’s own steadying her position on his lap.

“Need to be held by you to say what happened,” she whispers in reply to Harry’s unasked question for her sudden movement. Harry just returns her hold, enclosing her little body with his much larger one in a tight but not suffocating hug.

“Alright, whatever you want, sunflower. I’m just going to listen here.”

“I still think it’s silly,” Sophia begins, resting her head on the crease of her arms that's atop Harry’s shoulder, “but in a nutshell, I was just really worried and stressed out when you didn’t arrive this morning like you usually do. I don’t know why I was so panicked but I’ve been really quite on the edge and agitated as the morning shift passed by to the point where Georgie and Sabrina noticed. It probably heightened even more to the point where you were able to smell it on my scent when you finally arrived. God was I so relieved when I finally saw you, that you’re safe and nothing’s wrong.”

Harry might just cry right here. He really wills any tears not to drop from the bubbling beautiful and amazing feelings he has inside from Sophia’s explanation that’s trying to spill over him.

Harry coos without any care in the world, hands affectionately running through Sophia’s blonde locks as he allows her to pull his body closer to hers like there’s even any space that needs to be closed between them.

“Oh now I feel awful,” Harry realizes as Sophia’s words finally make complete sense to him, “I was the cause of your distressed state, not those three omegas. That’s quite unkindly of me.”

Sophia breaks away from her little hiding spot near his neck to look at him, “No, don’t feel awful. It’s not your fault I got instantly panicked when you didn’t come in the morning like the usual. That’s so expecting of me that you always have to go to my bakery every morning as if you have nothing else to do with your life. It’s really my fault for worrying so easily, not yours, bunny.”

“Still,” Harry protests with a little pout, “As your friend, I should have said something before I left in the afternoon yesterday that you shouldn’t be expecting me this morning so you didn’t have to worry about me. I’m sorry, sunflower. It totally crossed my mind with all the work things I had to do in London.”

Sophia tilts her head to the side in a cute fashion, curiously asking, “London? So you went to London this morning?”

“No, I came home from London this morning,” Harry clarifies with a smile when Sophia reaches for one of his curly ringlets to twirl around her finger, squeezing her hip in fondness, “I drove to London yesterday after I was here the whole morning and afternoon. I fixed and started a lot of stuff in our office, and I even pulled an all-nighter to make sure everything's sorted with our on-going lingerie campaign.”

“Oh, I see,” Sophia nods her head in understanding, “I also pull some all-nighters sometimes when I’m working on a new honey recipe for the bakery, though I make sure I’m well fed and sustained for the strenuous activities. You had your dinner and a midnight snack I presume?”

Harry finds himself biting his bottom lip in slight guilt, knowing the next words that is going to come out of him will not please the omega who is now looking expectantly at him.

“I didn’t have time for dinner but my midnight snack was delicious,” he doesn’t miss the way Sophia’s blue eyes narrow in slight animosity for his answer, Harry thinks she’s not full-out chastising him for the fact that he at least had a midnight snack to keep him fed.

Or so he thought.

“Okay, but you did have breakfast this morning, yeah? And your lunch too cause you arrived at my door after lunch time already.”

When Harry just shakes his head in answer with a now full-on look of guilt covering his features, Sophia stops playing with his curls to sternly fold her arms in front of her chest.

“Harry!” She calls out his name in rampant annoyance, “Have you seriously not eaten your breakfast and lunch?”

Harry nods his head in answer, “I’m sorry, sunflower, it’s just that I was so tired from my all-nighter in the office and then I decided to drive back to Cheshire right after I finished all my pending work in London around 2:00 AM. By the time I arrived back home it was already 5:00 AM so I went straight to bed and slept without fixing any alarm. The next time I woke-up, it was already 1:00 PM. I didn’t really have it in me to prepare any food because I wanted to go straight here to see you.”

Although Sophia is still looking at him in a disapproving light, the little edges of her lips that’s slowly turning up tells Harry that he’s on the clear.

“How can I be totally angry with you when you’re going to end it on a sweet note?” Sophia huffs, trying to fight her smile to break her face, having a hard time to follow through when Harry begins to giggle at her adorableness. Her attempts were commendable in Harry’s opinion, but she breaks into giggles not a few seconds later which will always be a joy to hear.

“I still don’t like that you neglected your meal times for sleeping,” Sophia reminds him, trying to be stern, index finger pushing slightly on his chest for emphasis, “but thank you for not laughing at me when I told you the real reason why I got upset.”

Harry grins in pure tenderness, reaching for Sophia's little arms and wrapping it around his own neck to get her to hug him back again.

“How can I laugh at your reasoning when you also ended it on a sweet note?” Harry whispers to her ear before singing in contentment, “I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m positively beaming with affection right now. I don’t think anyone has made me feel so cared for and appreciated like this except for my own mother.”

Harry’s heartfelt admission leads Sophia to drop a little kiss on his cheekbone, Harry feeling the warmth of her gaze and the sweet stickiness of her gloss on his skin.

“Me too,” Sophia replies, eyes casted with a cloud of awe, “I can’t believe my omega called for you in dire need and that you responded so perfectly protective over it. Didn’t know that was ever possible.”

“Why not?” Harry frowns.

Sophia shrugs her shoulders, head tilting to the side in thought, “I don’t know, just never had someone who cares so much about me like you. And someone that I’d care so dearly in return too. I feel so many deep things about you that I can’t even make complete sense of them sometimes, you know?”

Harry knows. Harry fucking knows.

He might be reading this all wrong but he thinks this is the omega’s way of silently telling him that whatever they have is special, something way deeper than just being friends. His thinking of reply something in return that can help lead to proving his wishful thoughts right when something ruins the entire mood.

Something being Harry’s bloody betraying stomach that decides to growl in hunger at that exact moment. The two look at each other in surprise at the loud noise, before they laugh in unison at what just transpired.

“Time to feed that hungry stomach of yours if you want to keep on being all big and protective alpha on me. Can’t do that if you don’t have proper sustenance in you.”

If she puts it that way, how can Harry decline?

*~*~*

The first thing Sophia does after she’s asked Harry to help her in the kitchen to make the both of them some food (which Harry found weird because the omega rarely wanted his presence in the kitchen, usually shooing him away to wait and ‘sit pretty’ on his seat whenever he attempted to offer his help) is to cover her nose when they’ve reached his usual corner nook spot.

“Blech!” She reacts unattractively, “Why does it reek so badly here?”

Harry frowns, carefully placing the tray of their food that he was holding, down on the surface of the table. His nose works in its own accord to smell whatever it was repulsing Sophia but is left with nothing but the earlier scents of the three omegas that he wrongfully berated earlier.

“I’m not sure what you’re smelling,” Harry notes, pulling the single chair that Sophia usually sits on for her.

Sophia’s frown just deepens, one hand pinching her nose while the other is also covering the bottom holes of her nostrils, “It smells so strongly of roses and gardenia, yuck.”

Harry gives her a questioning look, thinking that Sophia had never told him she disliked said flowers, but shrugs nonetheless thinking that there’s so much more to learn about the omega which excites him.

“Yeah, it smells like those flowers.” Harry agrees, “I think the scent came from the three omegas that we're here a while ago. Which, you have to tell me if they come back here, hopefully I didn’t fully scare them away from ever going here again, so I can personally apologize for my wrongly accused actions.”

Harry’s about to take his seat on the corner seat, stopping abruptly when a now familiar cry of distress emits from Sophia, alerting his senses like before.

“No, don’t sit down,” Sophia asserts in full don’t-even-dare-think-of-disobeying-me attitude as she very reluctantly removes her hands on his nose in favor of scenting his corner nook seat.

Harry’s jaw is literally dropped as the scene of Sophia making her way around his favorite seat to thoroughly scent the area as much as she can unfold before his eyes. He clears his throat when he almost chokes on his own saliva that was trying to drip down his mouth as Sophia’s honeysuckle and vanilla bean scent began to strongly permeate his vicinity and all his bloody senses.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, trying to find his voice from all the surprised emotions in him.

Sophia finishes scenting one of the throw pillows on the seat, eyes turning into displeased little slits like she can’t believe Harry even needed to ask why she was obsessively scenting his favorite spot right now.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking away those horrible scents. I don’t want our space smelling of others. Do you not want my scent here or something?”

“No! Of course not!” Harry rapidly replies to that awful thought, still caught-up on what the omega had just said that he can’t even reply to anything other than that.

“Good,” Sophia smiles brightly all of a sudden, “It’s not like I would have accepted any answer really.” she giggles so innocently like she didn’t just make Harry’s heart combust in ashes at her blatant claiming of their space, allowing only their scents to be contained in it.

“Okay! You can take a seat already, bunny.” Sophia claps excitedly, Harry moving on autopilot as he tucks her chair in when she sits on it, finished with her scenting spree, before he makes his way to sit himself. Though he is stopped once again by a hand on his wrist.

Sophia is looking at him demurely from underneath her lashes, “May you please sit down beside me today, bunny? Want you near me right now, please.”

Harry falls even more on this sweet honey-daze spell that Sophia has unknowingly placed upon him, finding himself nodding at her request while Sophia gleefully guides him to the seat beside hers with her hand now clasped on his own.

Harry does not know what was happening really, trying to catch-up with his wits when Sophia gives all of her attention to him like she’s never done before. As much as they are normally close when they’re together, they’re never this close-close.

Never has Sophia taken his plate of banana pancakes to her side of the table, never has she sliced it for him into tiny pieces, and never ever has she hand fed him the now tiny pieces of banana pancakes doused with cinnamon honey. Except she’s doing it now, fork raised in her delicate hold waiting for Harry to finish his bite to serve him another one.

It’s surprising but definitely not out of character for her as Harry knows how innately caring and affectionate the omega is. He watches on as Sophia takes a bite from his serving of pancakes with the same knife and fork she used for him, smiling fondly when even in mid-chew, the omega seemed to have her attention still trained on him as she reaches over his face to thumb away the little dollop of honey that have collected on the side of his lips.

“Why are you extra caring today, sunflower?” Harry can’t help but ask after Sophia happily hands him his glass cup of English tea (with lavender honey today) like it’s such a joy to be tasked with such.

“Nothing in particular,” Sophia chirps, attention focused on spreading honey butter on the croissant that they’re now going to share, “I just feel like compensating for the lack of time and attention I didn’t give you when you didn’t come in for breakfast today.”

Harry frowns at that, trying to not be instantly upset at what she had just said, “If you’re just taking extra care of me because you think you have to, please stop.” he whispers in a sad tone, “I don’t want you doing something nice for me just to compensate. I don’t want you to ever do that for me.”

Harry knows he’s pouting like a sad and neglected puppy, which he has every reason for upon knowing that Sophia is just being extra sweet to him because she basically feels like she just needs to compensate for something Harry does not know. It even saddens him even more thinking that he made the omega feel like she owed him something to compensate for to begin with.

“Oh, that’s not what I mean, bunny,” Sophia replies in slight alarm, hands frantically grasping the alpha’s hand that’s now nervously playing with his rings. “I shouldn't have said the word ‘compensate’, I think it’s a really wrong way of describing what I feel.”

Despite her remorseful tone, Harry doesn’t find it in himself to seek her apologetic aura. He lets her continue to touch his ringed fingers though provides no further look or response in her direction.

“Harry, look at me please.” Sophia requests with a gentle lilt in her voice, “Come on, I can’t correct myself to you if you’re not looking at me. Bunny, please.”

“Don’t wanna,” Harry stubbornly shakes his head in answer, feeling Sophia’s grip on his fingers tighten as she places his hand on her lap.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Stop being difficult,” Sophia lightly reprimands him, “I’m not going to give you honey cookies later if you don’t want to look at me right now.”

This catches Harry’s attention much more than it probably should, head raising up from its earlier crestfallen descent, yet still not turning his head to the omega’s direction and instead looks ahead on the other occupied chairs in the bakery.

“You can’t do that,” Harry replies, “I’m a paying customer so it’s illegal and unethical for you to not give me something that I paid for.”

“Fine,” he hears Sophia say from his side, not realizing until now how close they’re apparently sitting to each other as he feels her warm breath hit his jaw when she puffs out a breath of determination.

“I’m just not going to give you extra honey cookies then.”

Now that’s just pure evil in Harry’s books.

His head snaps to her direction, a satisfied grin falls over Sophia’s lips at her desired outcome. Harry only narrows his eyes at her, with no real heat behind them despite what he had hoped to convey, with his bottom lip popping out in a pout.

“Why are you threatening me when you already made me quite upset with your words?”

Sophia returns his pout with her own glossed one, “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier, that’s why I’ve been calling for your attention to look at me so I can apologize properly. Instead you decided to be a stubborn alpha.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“I’m never stubborn.”

Sophia chortles uncontrollably, “I don’t think that’s a good argument to make while still having that stubborn pout on your lips.”

“Well I have full rights to be pouting right now when you just said straight to my face that you’re hand feeding me my favorite banana pancakes because you wanted to compensate for something that I apparently made you feel like you owed me for.” Harry’s stubborn pout turns into that of a saddened one, downcast eyes can’t bear to look at the unpleasant tinge in Sophia’s own eyes. “Frankly, that last bit upset me the most.”

“Oh, alpha.” Sophia coos in a soft wounded tone, closing the already non-existent space between them by enclosing all his blue melancholic energy in a warm hug, the omega practically sitting on his lap once more.

“I’m sorry that I made you feel that awful, bunny, not what I meant at all, not even in the slightest.” She holds his face so delicately on her dainty tiny hands like he’s such a precious cargo, sympathetic blue eyes captivating Harry’s downturned ones despite how much he doesn’t want Sophia to feel guilty.

“What I was trying to say, but failed to do so cause I’m crap at expressing my feelings to words,” a self-deprecating smile can be heard on her tone making Harry frown every time she views her wonderful self in a negative light, “but I’m going to try my bestest to still do so, cause that’s what you deserve.”

Harry doesn’t deserve her kindness, that’s the hard truth. Though the determination is clear in her eyes like Harry’s never seen before, hands on his cheeks slightly trembling in undeniable nerves making Harry instantly wrap a hold on her tiny wrists to anchor her like the little bit of solace she had given him earlier during his raging fit.

“What I’m feeling is that, there’s this deep foreign emotion in me that makes me want to be so attentive and caring towards you,” Sophia presses her thumb on Harry’s lips, sensing the rebuttal coming, “and before you even say anything mean about yourself, like that crazy thought you always have of you forcing me to do things, which you should stop by the way . Because that’s not what I’m feeling, I wanted, no I needed, to give you all of my attention right now and every dose of care I have in me. I don’t know what it is, but my omega just needs this.”

She finished with a nervous expression, plump baby pink bottom lip caught between her front teeth. It’s such an astounding thing to hear, that..huge thing she just said that Harry can’t still quite believe really left her lips.

It can definitely be said that no omega, actually no person, has ever been affected by his alpha to the point where it’s a necessity for the omega in Sophia to bestow him with utmost care, attention, and vigilance, because that’s what this all boils down to when Harry’s properly thought about it. It should probably scare him even in the slightest that he can apparently affect Sophia in such a profound way, tapping into a part of her primal instincts to essentially tend to his alpha. This definitely doesn’t affect any of Harry’s previous already culminating tremendously stupefying lovey-dovey feelings because how can it?

Yeah, he’s screwed, he’s done for.

Harry adoringly stares at the sweetest creature he’s blessedly fallen upon without any ounce of shame at his obvious dreamy gawking. With that being said, maybe he should change the name of his lingerie company now because there’s no way his baby can rival that of this girl’s honey personified nature.

He plucks a kiss on her thumb that’s still resting on his lips, preening at the way it results in a timid smile from Sophia, probably also reminiscing that first time she did that similar affection towards him back in the days where they had just first met like Harry is fondly thinking of right now. It’s crazy how close they’ve become in such a short period of time, both metaphorically, referring to their tight-knit bond as friends, and literally with the way they always find themselves almost attached at the hip when in the same place.

“If you put it that way,” Harry says in answer to her previous heart-swooning utterance, “then your actions don’t upset me in the slightest, makes me feel over the moon in fact that I’m apparently not the only one who has harboured such extensive emotions in this friendship.”

Sophia gasps in honest surprise, “You feel it too? Like these new, jumbled emotions that I don’t know what they are but they’re pleasant ones, are bubbling up inside my small body that sometimes feels so overwhelming cause the only time I can release them is when you’re with me, and I get to shower you with my emotions. Is that how it feels for you too?”

Harry laughs a loud one, positively sold with her explanation, “That’s a really brilliant way to describe it, sunflower, but I think it won’t work for me as I have a very much larger body than yours so my jumbled pleasant emotions are probably way more than what you just described, but it’s alright, I can carry on feeling much for you than you do.”

Harry’s teasing evokes another gasp from Sophia, this time out of offense.

“Excuse me?! You can’t just belittle my feelings like that! I have you know,” Sophia animatedly taps the button of Harry’s nose for emphasis, making the latter quite cross-eyed just looking at it, “I might have a tiny body cause I’m an omega, but that doesn’t equal how much I can feel inside me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry dismisses her with a light tap on her hip, “I still think it won’t compare to my naturally, smothering ways of affection.”

Sophia snorts at his confident words, “Who was the one feeding you pancakes and sitting on your lap right now?”

Alright, she has a slight point, Harry thinks giving that to her, “It’s because you haven’t given me enough recovery time for me to dote on you, as if your obsessive scenting earlier didn’t cause my heart to combust with so much emotions it’s surprising that I’m still alive.”

Instead of looking timid like Sophia would usually react after Harry mentions something that she has done in a teasing way, the sweet angel just smirks at him like it’s a regular thing that she does.

“What can I say, I guess you’re not the only one who has the ability to smother someone with affection,”

Harry thinks his heart just stopped beating all together.

“Sunflower, smother me with all your loving feelings all you want then.”

*~*~*

The next time Harry has to do another business errand in London, he’s made sure to message Sophia beforehand as for her to not worry about his safety and whereabouts like last time. It shouldn’t have taken them this long to exchange phone numbers, but Harry’s pleased to know that it still gives him butterflies of excitement when he makes a walk from his place to the bakery every morning despite their unrelenting exchange of text messages at the times that they’re apart.

By the time he’s arrived in the cottage bakery that afternoon after a late night in London, Harry frowns at the little piece of paper that is propped on his corner nook spot that he can see while waiting in the line to get his order. He’s not sure what that’s supposed to be, knowing that Sophia does not take reservations at her place.

When he’s right beside the table being second in line already, Harry gets a clearer look on the carefully placed baby blue paper on the table. His name catches his eyes in an instant, the familiar refined cursive not mistakable as well. Giggles of child-like euphoria bursts out of him as he notices the little drawn on bunnies at the sides of the paper, one of them holding a plate with a stack of pancakes and the other munching on cookies with it’s face admittedly filled with it.

“Good afternoon, bunny,” Sophia smiles brightly at him when he reaches the front of the line. Harry rolls his eyes good naturedly at her act of innocence like she just didn’t make his whole day by reserving his table for him in such a cute fashion.

“Oh come here,” Harry reaches out to hug the omega, the latter giggling as Harry coos words of gratitude in her ear while they take in each other's scents as much as a few seconds can allow them.

“You’re such a dear thing,” Harry says after letting go of their hug.

“Thank you,” Sophia tilts her head at the side while grinning at Harry, “I thought it was really clever for me to make the sign, so your spot won’t be taken when you arrive this afternoon.”

Harry smirks at finally having a stamp of validity from the owner herself that it really is Harry’s spot. Yeah, it’s the territorial alpha in him talking, what can we really do about it?

“You are very smart,” Harry agrees, “and creative too! I absolutely adore your little bunny drawings on the side, artistic masterpiece that one.”

Sophia unequivocally preens at Harry’s praise, “You did? That’s brilliant!” The omega claps her hand in surprised joy, “I didn’t want it to look boring with just your name, so I decided to spend a few minutes drawing two bunnies on them. Did you see what they were holding?”

Her excited tone is matched by Harry’s equally exuberant grin, “I did, made me extra hungry seeing my favorite honey treats on those bunnies paws.”

A giggling Sophia is always a sight, but a giggling Sophia who reaches over to gently grab Harry’s cheeks to squish together in a fish-looking pout is a total marvel with the way the omega almost purrs in delight.

“I know, I made sure to make one of the bunnies snacking on your favorite honey cookies with this exact adorable puffy face you have when you snack on them so happily.”

Harry can’t really reply properly with the way his face is squished together as Sophia continues softly murmuring indistinguishable words that he assumes is what she does when she pets adorable pets.

Is Harry annoyed that he might have been mistaken as an actual adorable bunny? No, not really. Sophia can definitely continue her cooing at him if he’s rewarded with her pleased little noises every time he scrunches his nose at her when she squeezes just a little bit harder on his cheeks.

Harry is basking in her smothering of affection.

*~*~*

It’s officially a month since Harry and Sophia have met and become the bestest of friends.

With that being said, Harry’s new lingerie collection is certainly taking a lot more of his time than he wants to with a lot more trips to London to guide and supervise his team with his first design.

Harry already knows that this upcoming collection would be the most dear to his heart compared to all the ones he’s done in the past. He is not going to settle for the next best thing in making his designs come true, requesting his head seamstress, Mitch, to create the first tangible sample of the slip dress using only the finest quality of materials.

At first, Mitch and Jeff had looked at him with surprise after he listed out specific instructions on how he wants this dress to be done during one of their meetings. To be fair, he’s never paid this close attention to detail to any of his other collections except his first one which is understandable since that collection would determine if he would make it or break it in the fashion industry.

Well it did make him and now he’s ignoring the raised brow Mitch and Jeff are giving him as he instructs them that he has to be alerted right away after the first sample is made. A very out of character thing for him to order when he’s done sketches in the past only to forget about them until Mitch rings him up to view it.

It’s good that his close friends don’t question him after their meeting, Jeff addressing his slightly unusual behavior but saying that he won’t question Harry this time around because whatever is happening with him, seems to be doing wonders for their upcoming collection. Mitch, always the quiet one, just taps Harry on the back in understanding of his requests.

That’s good, and Harry’s relieved he’s yet to explain the deeper meaning of this new collection and how his creative process involves the woman that just tilted the axis of his entire worldview in life into something more honey sweet.

That honey sweet thing is something he’s missing right now as focusing on his work in London also means less time in the sunflower’s whimsical cottage bakery. Harry’s past the point of ignoring the way he’s missing Sophia, bombarding the latter with lengthy messages of how he wishes Sophia was right there beside him to tell off Jeff who’s bullying him as per usual.

The omega replies back with short replies of how he should be kind to his best friend, choosing to reply to his messages of honest longing with pictures of her cat, Tilly, with edited effects of hearts in the background or tears on the gray fluff’s sapphire blue eyes. As per Sophia’s explanation after he admitted of being quite an old man with technology, not understanding the edited pictures as replies instead of normal, ‘ancient’ text messages using English words like he does, that it apparently means she’s missing him really bad too.

Harry is still confused as to what her cat has to do with the way they’re missing each other. But when Sophia sends another picture, now with her pouting face and blue wide eyes looking at the camera beside the cat’s similar expression complete with the cutely dilated blue orbs, Harry gets it now.

To: Honeyed 🌻: “So you look like a snuggly cat when you’re missing me that’s why you sent me pictures of Tilly?”

From: Honeyed 🌻: “Precisely! 🤗 But I look way cuter than her, right? Don’t worry, I won’t tell her your reply so she won’t get mad at you when the two of you meet.”

To: Honeyed 🌻: “Then it’s a definite yes 🤭 just promise no telling! Want to get along with your baby when I meet her.”

From: Honeyed 🌻: “I promise, bunny. Now go back to work and BE KIND to Jeff! Missing you still so much! 💛”

That specific exchange was two days ago, now Harry’s just coming up the corner to the cottage bakery to finally have some time with Sophia because they both really need it if those messages are anything to go by.

Harry really appreciates the slow and barely existing crowd in the mornings, appreciating it especially more right now as he enters the bakery with the little bell on top of the door signaling his arrival.

His breath absolutely gets caught-up in his throat as he watches in some sort of slow-motion sequence of Sophia twirls around to see the newcomer with her radiant blonde hair perfectly swaying along with her movement like a summer breeze just flew by in that exact same moment.

“Harry! You’re here!” she exclaims, far too bright and loud for such an early hour in the morning as she drops the rolling pin that she was using on the kitchen surface.

“Heya,” Harry grins, waving his right hand cheekily while staying put at his position near the door like he’s not itching to crash Sophia in a hug.

But it seems like he doesn’t need to worry any further as Sophia says in a still shock-ridded voice: “Oh my god!” and starts bolting towards him only allowing Harry a few seconds to stabilize himself when the omega evidently jumps on open arms, wrapping all herself tightly on his waiting and willing body.

“Bunny, you’re actually here,” Sophia murmurs still in surprise at his ear, “Oh my god I missed you so much, so so much.” arms and legs tightening around Harry making him bubble up with elation.

“I can tell, you literally have been saying the same phrases ever since you saw me.”

Harry’s teasing results in a little nip on his earlobe that is no doubt from the warm omega in his arms making him hiss, “Ouch, what was that for, sunflower?”

“You weren’t being very kind with my honesty, that’s why. Plus, you haven’t even returned my I missed yous.”

Without a look at her face, Harry already knows she’s pouting at him, “Yeah, that’s very unkind of me, huh?”

Sophia hums her agreement, nosing at his earlobe like a true snuggly puppy, “Very, didn’t appreciate it.”

Harry chuckles knowing that there’s not real heat behind her almost whining words, “I’m sorry, sunflower, was just joking like the usual silly ‘ol me, but I did miss you too. Truly missed you so much, my sweet honey treats baker.”

Like a Pavlovian effect, the mention of her honey goodies makes Harry’s stomach grumble in hunger. It’s not the first time it had ruined a tender moment between them (not only that one time in the backroom, mind you) so Harry no longer feels embarrassed about it as it only makes the omega dote over him by eagerly making him his special banana pancakes while making sure he stays still on his corner nook after they’ve chosen the flavor of the honey they would add to their morning cuppas.

Sophia leaves a featherlight kiss on his cheekbone while Harry raises his head a little to nose on her temple in adoration before they let go of each other. Of course, it must be understood that some semblance of togetherness must still be retained after missing each other so much these past few days, hands naturally intertwining together as they walk back to the kitchen counter.

In need of keeping their hands held, Harry follows beside Sophia on the other side of the kitchen counter where he usually isn’t allowed to be in. Heart beating fast at how domestic it looks and feels with them along together in the kitchen as no customers are present yet, nor are the two betas working for Sophia.

“What honey do you want to add to my matcha today?” Sophia asks him with that sweet little tilt to her head that Harry has definitely missed.

“Uhm, let me think..” Harry ponders, fingers pinching his bottom lip in thought.

Before he can even think properly, a furry gray blob suddenly comes out of nowhere and jumps on Harry making him yelp so loudly without a care of how he sounds.

“TILLY!” Sophia bellows in return as Harry feels the unmistakable kitten claws settling on his torso with his hands instinctively trying to remove the cat from his body as you never know when the sharp nails are coming in contact with his skin.

Thankfully, Sophia comes into the rescue to get her cat away from Harry, although without a fight as the usually cute and snuggly grey chubby furrball that Harry always sees on his phone, has suddenly transformed to an extremely angry looking kitten who’s continuously hissing at Harry like he’s offended her or something.

“What in the world was that?” Harry can’t help but ask as Sophia tries to calm down her cat who is still enjoying the scared wince in Harry’s features every time she hisses at his direction.

“I don’t know, I brought her in today so you two can finally meet,” Sophia turns to him with an apologetic look before turning to look at her cat again with a much stern expression on, “Tilly, that was rude, why did you do that to mama’s friend?”

She’s properly scolding the cat already in a way that makes her still sound like she’s just cooing at something, only Sophia can do that. But like earlier, Tilly just keeps her menacing little blue eyes trained on Harry, watching his every movement while hissing every once in a while when she thinks Harry is going to make his way beside the omega.

He does not know what he’s done to clearly upset the cat, but he kind of has an inkling to what it may be.

“I think it would be best if I take my seat already, it seems like she doesn’t want me beside you, or even near you.” Harry shrugs, trying not to sound too affected when in fact he kind of is.

This is Sophia’s dearest baby cat that she adores just as much as her affinity for honey and bees and everything pastel from her dainty little dresses to her soft to the touch collection of cardigans. So Harry believes it’s only logical that he wants her to like him, or at the very least, for them to get along.

But without even talking yet to the cat, she already decides she despises him to the point where bodily harm is about to be inflicted on him if he remains to be anywhere near her mama.

“What?” Sophia frowns at him, “That’s not true, Tilly loves everyone that’s kind, yeah baby? Harry’s kind my love, you wanna meet mama’s best friend? I thought earlier you were excited to do so when we were getting ready this morning.”

When Sophia motions for him as an invitation to be introduced properly, the cat stands up in alert from her cautious seat on the kitchen counter when she notices Harry nearing their way. Harry stops moving but Sophia calls for him again saying Tilly’s just stretching her little limbs so he follows along.

But now that Harry’s beside her, Tilly starts hissing so loudly again with her claws stretching out ready to pounce again. Except this time, Sophia instantly covers Harry’s front so the cat can’t quite pursue her motives.

“Tilly! What are you doing, young lady? That’s very mean, we never do that.” Sophia reprimands the grey cat much more firmly than earlier, her arms reaching behind her to wrap around Harry. “Harry is very kind, my love. We don’t need any of that rude hissing, and please put your claws back cause that’s dangerous.”

Tilly actually obeys her mother this time, though clearly still in alert and warry of Harry’s presence as she retains her untrusting gaze on him.

“Hey, Tilly, nice to finally meet you.” Harry decides to say with his chin perched on top of Sophia's head when the latter just kept on looking at her cat with a look of disappointment that the alpha decides he never wants to be on the receiving end of.

Staying true to her character, Tilly hisses in reply to Harry’s polite greeting making him laugh for some reason as Sophia gasps, sounding so appalled like her cat hasn’t been hissing at Harry this entire time already.

“I am so sorry,” Sophia turns around to properly hold Harry on his waist, head raising up to look at him in the eyes with an embarrassed light casting her beautiful features and a sad pout gracing her glossed baby pink lips. “I don’t know why she’s acting so mean today, and especially towards you that I always say only good things about.”

Hearing that makes Harry forget of the intimidating cat still looking at him, instead he places his hands on Sophia’s bare shoulders to rub it affectionately, “You talk about me to your cat?”

Sophia simply nods, Harry positively preening at this new information especially when she explains more. “Of course I would. You’re a very important person in my life just as much as she is.”

Harry’s face scrunches in that smile he knows Sophia’s quite smitten with, “Thank you, sunflower, you’re so cute when you’re being sweetly honest with me.” he pinches her cheek for good measure as Sophia giggles at his touch, “But I still think I should leave you here on your own before she thinks I’m beginning to become more important to you than her.”

“Well maybe you are,” Sophia innocently replies, making Harry gasp in shock this time at her apparent cheekiness.

“Sunflower, quiet down or she might hear you,” Harry widens his eyes comically, “don’t want her getting upset with me any further.”

“Alright, just because I don’t think I can be able to tend any of your scratches without crying if she does gets her claws on you successfully this time,” Sophia concedes making Harry chuckle at her specific reasoning, “but I still think she needs some sort of retribution for her very unkindly actions.”

“Maybe no special honey treats for her today?” Harry suggests.

Sophia puckers her lips in thought, “Yeah, I think that would be a good one.”

“Excellent,” Harry squeezes her collarbones fondly, “more for me then!”

The day goes on after that initial interaction (or lack thereof) and Harry’s quite down to report back that Tilly is still hostile towards him regardless of him doing basically nothing to cause such aggressive behavior.

Sophia has remained pretty cross with her cat all day as well, particularly when she prevents her from joining Harry at their corner at any chance she tries to have a word with him or to share their cuppa together. Claws and hissing and beady little frightening eyes always coming out like the usual routine every single time Harry even tries to look at the omega.

The busy afternoon rush puts a halt on Tilly’s threatening gazes at Harry as the cat chooses to focus her attention on Sophia like some sort of guard dog. Harry will certainly hire her for the job when there’s a need for it, that little grey furrball can be bloody scary without even doing anything. Harry can attest, he’s been on the receiving end of it all day now.

Similarly, Harry pays no mind to Tilly’s blatant hostility as he gets submerged in his own work related agendas. He spent the majority of the day answering emails from their main office in London, and the occasional matters he needed to attend to from their international branches. He’s also keeping a close eye on the updates from Mitch regarding the status of the fabric they ordered all the way from Japan as Harry had firmly stated it has to be that specific kind for his precious slip dress. It’s honestly quite a pain when Harry thinks about it, because the longer it takes for Mitch to make the dress, the prolonged time it would be for Harry to create his next piece for the collection.

Usually, he just sketches and sketches once the inspiration starts to flow but this time around, Harry is really taking his time to perfect everything. He can’t just start the next piece when the first one is made and he notices some needed alterations if ever his drawings cannot be translated that well in the finished fabric form of the dress.

Nevertheless, Harry doesn’t find it in himself to be that all worried as Jeff (and Glenne) has left his neck after reporting back with something really promising. They’re obviously under the impression that being back home in the countryside of Cheshire and much nearer to his mom, has probably propelled Harry’s inspiration back on track. Harry would just tell them the complete story once he’s settled with the fact that he can’t keep Sophia’s sweetness all to himself any longer

Harry’s fairly lost in his head regarding all these that it takes him in complete surprise and panic when he suddenly hears that already familiar (as much as he despises for it to be familiar) whine from the omega baker, a loud clattering of something falling on the ground follows after. Harry springing fast on his own feet ready to take action when he hears another whimper, now laced with an undertone of pain.

“Omega!” He all but says in alarm as he sees the sight of Sophia clutching the top of her chest where her collarbones are located in obvious pain, elbow propped on the kitchen counter as Sabrina and Georgie stand beside her with the first aid kit on hand.

“No, I’m alright. I don’t need any first aid, I think.” Sophia mumbles reassuringly to the two fussing betas who are trying to seek her injury. Despite the baker’s assurance that she is alright, Harry can clearly hear the underlying tone of discomfort in her voice as he situates himself near her.

“What happened, omega?” Harry asks in barely concealed urgency, eye raking up her form to check any signs of injury.

Sabrina and Georgie removed themselves from Sophia’s immediate side when the latter suddenly elicited a whimper of pain for Harry.

“Alpha, I dropped the pan that I was trying to place inside the top cupboard there,” Sophia whines pitifully, her glassy eyes raising up to look at the offending cupboards that is technically, really high for her to reach by herself without any help. “Now it hurts.”

“Oh, omega. What hurts?” Harry replies instead in concern, being cross with her for not asking for his help when doing such a futile task considering her short stature can be later discussed. Harry needs to appease the fretful alpha within him after hearing such unnerving noises from the omega.

“Here,” Sophia pouts at Harry with her dainty hands slightly clutching her collarbones, “it hurts here.”

Her wobbling lips and little sniffles is the last thing Harry registers before taking the last few strides to gather her in his arms.

Obviously, this entire chaotic ordeal made Harry forget of the omega’s little menace of a cat child that’s visiting the bakery today, the alpha only remembering when he feels the unmistakable sharp edge of her claws as Tilly scratches his legs when he had tried to close the distance between Sophia and him.

“Fuck!” Harry curses at the now positively growling cat who’s looking at him like he’s the perpetrator who caused her mother harm. “Stop scratching me, Tilly. I need to help your mother.”

The growling and hissing just keeps getting louder as Harry is forced to keep on removing the angry cat that keeps on latching on his leg, losing his patience when he hears Sophia’s sniffling become louder in obvious distress.

“For fuck’s sake, I have no time for this!” the deep, alpha timbre in Harry’s voice as he agitatedly removes the cat from his body, somehow stops the cat from resisting his ministrations.

Harry sighs in complete annoyance, hard green eyes staring straight to that of the undying fierce blue orbs of the cat, “Tilly, your mother is hurt and I need to help her, alright? So please stop trying to attack me. And before you hiss at me again, I didn’t do it. I’m here to make sure she’s going to be tended to and that she won’t have to be subjected to any harm again. I’m here to protect her just as much as you are. We’re both here to protect mama, alright?”

Harry doesn’t know what type of response he’s really looking for when talking to a cat, but he thinks that Tilly might understand the tone of his voice and the look on his face when all the fight in her rounded fluffy body leaves her. She wiggles out of Harry’s hold and stays put beside him, head turned towards Sophia’s direction, mewing.

Harry sighs in relief at whatever sort of compromise they have just achieved in that moment, finally turning his full attention to the silently crying omega to get that hug he’s been wanting to give her.

Sophia goes pliant in his hold, whining a little when Harry’s tight hold around her causes to strain her bruised collarbones, “Ouch, that hurts.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I was just trying to make sure nothing is broken.” Harry soothes her quickly, hands rubbing up and down her blonde hair in a comforting manner, “Does anything else hurt?”

Harry puts a little bit of distance between them, eyes intently focusing on searching her physique for any signs of other bruising, frowning deeply when he notices her right collarbone turning slightly purple from the impact of the steel pan falling on it.

“Nothing,” Sophia shakes her head while sniffling, knuckles rubbing at her eyes to stop the little streams of tears from falling any further, “I don’t know why I’m crying so much, I think I was just shocked at the loud noise. My collarbone hurts but not as much as when I accidentally cut my pinky open before.”

Harry groans, sounding like he’s the one in pain this time, “Omega, please do not start saying bloody things like that, I can’t take it.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be bad,” the omega sniffles, Harry stilling for a moment and groaning again for a completely different reason this time.

“Not being bad,” Harry tries to say in a calm tone without sounding so affected by her choice of words, it’s inappropriate to feel the hot and burning little coil inside him right now. “Just clumsy and stubborn for not asking my help to reach a very high cupboard.”

Sophia just whines at the undeniable little chide in Harry’s statement, gently squishing her face to his torso in fear of being scolded much more.

Harry sighs, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, “We should go to the backroom, omega. I have to make sure you’re completely looked after.”

The alpha said his thanks to the two betas that have resumed working, reassuring them that he’d tend to any of Sophia’s bruises in the backroom while gladly accepting the first aid kit they’d brought out earlier. The omega baker still docile on his hold around her as he leads them back to the now familiar door of the backroom. He’s almost forgotten again of the watchful little creature that was standing beside him earlier until said cat does her familiar hiss when Harry almost closed the door on her face.

“Oh, sorry Tilly,” he apologizes, rolling his eyes after when the only response he gets is a snarl and a not-so gentle flick of the tail on his chin making him wince at her violent antics.

He forgoes any more cross words with Tilly and instead guides Sophia to take a seat on the peach couch as he prepares the first aid kit on the coffee table situated in front of it. Harry feels Sophia’s eyes watching him attentively as he’s forced to take his time arranging the content of the kit when the latter didn’t want to let go of one of his hands.

That’s perfectly fine for Harry as he’s quite adept now with using one hand for tasks having a lot of practice time whenever they eat together, the omega keeping their intertwined hands on her thigh as they feed themselves and each other with their remaining free hand.

Harry thinks he might even be an expert at this point with this whole doing task with one hand thing as no whines of pain leave Sophia’s lips as he carefully tends to her bruising collarbone with a soothing ointment. His eyes are focused intently not only on her bruise but as well as her facial features to see if he’s not hurting her by tending to her purpling bruise.

“All done,” Harry softly says, placing the little tub of ointment back on the coffee table before turning his focus back on the fortunately no longer crying omega. “What else do you want me to do to make you feel better, sunflower?”

Sophia’s quite red all over her face from her crying earlier, even the remaining exposed skin from today’s outfit of a lilac ribbed tube top is flushed with the same rosy-red tint. There’s no longer a downturned tilt to her lips, Harry making sure he’s wiped it all away with his gentle strokes to her face as he helped her dry her little tears earlier. but pouting is still a thing she’s exhibiting which tells Harry that she needs a little bit more tender affection.

“Cuddle on your lap, please, bunny?”

“Love, anything for you.” Harry honestly responds, slowly placing his hands on her waist to guide her down on his lap as Sophia expertly wraps herself on his toned body.

For the amount of times they’ve already done this sort of thing, Harry already knows the drill as Sophia tucks herself near his neck, resting her face on his shoulder where he rhythmically rubs her cheek on the silky material of Harry’s usual shirts finding comfort.

On the other hand, Harry brings his hands to rest on the omega’s supple love handles on either side of her slightly curvaceous physique, breathing in her sweet scent in utter contentment as he noses along her temple and her ear.

The serene calmness that they always get from cuddling like this is hampered today by the mewling neglected cat that’s now rubbing herself on Harry’s ankles, surprising him for a moment.

He looks down at Tilly without having to disturb the little peaceful and warm snuggle cocoon that Sophia and him are currently encased in, brow quirking in question when the cat continues to meow for attention without any aggressive actions being threatened at him.

“What’s it, Tilly?” Harry asks quietly as to not disturb the peaceful omega straddling his lap, “Your mother’s fine already, no need for those meowing sounds.”

Tilly quiets down a bit, although not completely as she continues to speak in the only way that cats can not allow Harry to bask in the silence of having Sophia in his arms.

“Do you want to join us, or something?” Harry asks again when the cat began to show signs of impatience at Harry’s lack of competence for being able to understand her language.

Tilly completely stops her pawing and meowing, head tilting to the side as she blinks at Harry in response.

Yeah, she definitely looks like her mother, Harry muses to himself in amusement while trying to stop the fond smile to escape his features as the cat has yet to apologize or stop her unjustified hatred towards him. No matter how adorable the grey furrball is, Harry knows not to trust her so wholly as there’s a fiery and despicable energy within her fluffy chubby body waiting to be unleashed with just one ‘wrong’ move from him.

“Alright, I guess you can join us,” Harry concedes, bending a little to pick Tilly’s waiting raised arms, “but you gotta keep quiet because mama needs to rest, okay?”

Tilly doesn’t reply and choses instead to paw his hands away from her once she’s on top of the couch with them. See, Harry knows he’s not completely on the clear yet with her abhorrent dislike for him.

“Okay, okay, geez,” Harry quietly says in surrender, “not going to hold you anymore but you got to stop squirming if you want to cuddle with us. I’m not going to leave your mama here just because you can’t stand being near me.”

If cats can roll their eyes, Harry’s sure that’s what he exactly gets in reply from Tilly as the cat huffs at him all irritably while squirming her body in between their sides with the majority of her resting on Sophia’s thigh finding the perfect comfortable position to cuddle in.

Harry sighs thinking of today’s turn of events when the peace and quiet is finally able to fill and permeate his entire system.

It’s a lot for just wanting to stop missing the honeyd omega, but Harry knows he won’t have it any other way, with the annoyingly adorable half-demon cat and all.

*~*~*

Harry’s everyday visits at the bakery certainly helps his relationship with Sophia cat child to develop a little bit better each time the omega brings Tilly with her.

By no means are Harry and Tilly suddenly besties after that one afternoon and the following days of being with each other. Though they’ve definitely reached a clear common ground on where they both stand in the omega baker’s life.

The two of them just want Sophia to be happy and safe all the time, that’s just that. So Tilly just needs to trust Harry that he won’t do anything that will harm or endanger Sophia, and she should remember that he’s not the enemy here. Harry has said time and time again to the cat that they’re here to work together to make sure her mother is always safe and protected.

Of course, no matter how conniving and threatening Tilly can be, she’s still a cat who doesn’t have the same rational as a human who can understand the English language. That’s why Harry is already starting to get used to the occasional hissing from Tilly whenever he feeds Sophia her favorite honey corn muffins, discerning that the cat might not understand his verbal reassurance that he’s not going to overfeed or choke the omega.

“Your patience with her is so commendable,” Sophia notes as she takes her afternoon break with Harry on his corner nook, her eyes reflecting fascination as she watches Harry try his best to pet Tilly only for her to squirm away from his big hands only to come rolling back again on his side.

She’s definitely starting to warm up to him no matter if she denies it, Harry thinks, turning to smile at Sophia.

“I’m also surprised at the amount of patience I have for her,” Harry admits, “I’m not usually one to tolerate rudeness from people, but I apparently can for pets. Plus, I kind of understand why she’s being mean to me in some way.”

Sophia accepts the tea spoon filled with today’s dish of honey and cheese soufflé that Harry’s raised on his hand waiting for her mouth to open, “What do you mean?”

Harry tuts at her actions, “Please don’t talk when your mouth is full, sunflower.”

Sophia smiles sheepishly at him in some sort of apology, finishing the spoonful that the alpha had fed her before curiosity struck back again within her as she eagerly asks Harry the same question.

“In my opinion, she’s just being territorial with her mother, which is you,” Harry points out helpfully with an endeared smile at Sophia’s adorable confused look.

“Why does she feel the need to be territorial over me when you didn’t even do anything?”

Harry shrugs, “She probably felt and thought that I was a possible threat. I noticed some similarities with her and alpha baby me. Because when I was a child, I remember being extremely displeased, borderline territorial for my mother’s attention whenever we went to parks or parties where there’s a lot of people that might take her away from me. I was a proper jealous and possessive mess back in my diaper days.”

Instead of the laugh that Harry expects Sophia to react with on his rather ridiculous story, what he finds instead is a cooing Sophia with a dreamy look clouding her doe-like blue irises.

“Oh my god,” she gushes, “you were surely a proper cutie back then, huh? Frowning like an angry bunny in pictures when Anne had to help other children.”

Harry giggles at her way of thinking, “I’m not sure if I was that cute but I can confirm that frowning pictures of me in my relative’s parties because mum wasn’t by my line of sight, definitely exists. Anne Styles is a very clever mother who will not throw away items like that in the hopes of getting me embarrassed in the future, and will probably take a picture of my embarrassed reaction as well.”

Sophia giggles a happy sound, offering Harry the last honey cookie on the plate, “I definitely have to see those pictures myself when you take me to her home for a visit. And I don’t think it’s embarrassing, knowing how cute you are today means you’re superbly cute before as a little alpha pup for sure.”

Harry just munches on his mouthful of honey cookies, lips curling up in exuberance at Sophia’s twinkling eyes while talking about visiting his mother and how cute she thinks he is. He’s definitely not turning pink up to his tiny ears, nope.

That’s a thing with them now, actually. Talking about plans, like tangible plans, normally monumental types of big plans like that of going to each other’s childhood home to meet their respective parents. Granted that specific intentions are present for the purpose of the visit, - Harry to learn about her family’s bee farm first hand, Sophia to learn how Anne makes her homemade honey soaps she’s quite fond of - it still can’t escape Harry’s mind that this is essentially ‘meeting the parents’ type of ‘meeting the parents’ nevertheless that they’re just best friends. It feels so much more than just that.

At these specific instances, it makes the alpha realize how much he views what Sophia and him have as something more than just platonic relations. He already knew deep inside him when he started conversing with her that very first day, that he kind of doesn’t want to keep it in the platonic realm once he gets to know her properly.

And that’s what he’s been doing the past month, what they’ve been doing all this time. They’re already the bestest of friends (sorry Jeff) right now without any question.

Harry was quite clear with himself that he wasn’t going to come in strong with his not-so platonic intentions in the beginning of their friendship as to not scare the omega away from how forthcoming and intense he can be. Harry hasn’t really done this ever, this entire serious relationship thing, that’s why he’s also cautious with his words and actions not wanting to hurt in any way just because he’s inexperienced in this regard.

But no matter how he tries to keep it in himself, his deep affection towards the omega just ends up unfolding in one way or the other if it wasn’t already clear how much unknowing control Sophia’s omega has on his alpha and vice-versa. The rapt caring attention, affectionate words, electricity zapping touches and the warm cuddling and scent inhaling hugs, are just the tip of the iceberg of how connected their inner energies are.

And it might be wishful thinking, but he really thinks it’s not, that Sophia might share the same aims as him. She’s a naturally timid and gentle soul no matter how friendly and bubbly she seems, that Harry most of the time feels that Sophia’s just waiting for him to make an actual move on her, too shy to start the conversation herself regardless that they both don’t believe that it’s always supposed to be the alpha that should ask the omega out on a date.

It’s just a matter of time, is Harry's resolve to this situation at all the times he’s taken a time to think about it.

Just a matter of time before he shows his complete and unyielding devotion to the omega.