27 Tattoos

His lips peppered kisses down your torso, your hands entwining themselves into his curly hair.

“Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so hot.” Harry growls as he scans your half-naked body, the bulge in his jeans growing. He trails back up to your lips, messily kissing you whilst un-buttoning his jeans. You open your eyes but you don’t see Harry’s face, you see Stan’s.

“GET OFF ME!” You yell, hitting Harry’s back, clawing at his skin.

“(Y/N) wha-“ He says, confused.

“HELP ME! GET OFF ME STAN! GET OFF!” You screech and scramble off the bed, running to the corner of the room and shutting your eyes. You couldn’t breathe properly, you felt claustrophobic. Sliding down the wall, you put your head in your hands and started whispering to yourself, Harry looking over at you with a look of guilt washed over his face. Harry walked over to you, sitting next to you and placing his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his bare chest. At first you flinched at his touch, but then relaxing into him as he stroked your hair.

“(Y/N)?” He whispered, not wanting to set you off again, “(Y/N), it’s me, Harry.” He says, kissing your temple gently. You burry your head into his chest as tears start to run down your face.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, looking up at him. His face was full of guilt.

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. Stan will pay for what he’s done to you, I promise.” He says, hugging you tighter.

“Don’t.” You murmur into his chest/

“What?” He says in disbelief, “He hurt you, (Y/N).” You look up at him, you were sure your make-up was running down your face but you didn’t care.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” You say.

“Don’t worry; I think I can handle myself,” He laughs, “Haven’t you heard what people say about me?” You had heard a lot about him, stuff like: He was a dealer, he rapes girls then ditches them, he beat his mum and sister and that’s why they left him, he steals and he mugs people. You had also heard off a few people that he’d killed a man for not paying of a debt he owed, you shuddered at that thought.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot.” You mutter, edging away from him. He looked at you, puzzled.

“Most of it isn’t even true, (Y/N). Just shit people make up to make me seem like a bad guy.” He says, looking into your eyes. He wipes the tears away with his thumb and cradles you until you calm down, before picking you up and putting you into your bed. Harry then get’s up and starts walking towards the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask, climbing under the covers.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch, I don’t want to scare you again.” He replies calmly.

“I-I want you to stay.” You say, it was barely a whisper but he heard, he makes his way over to you,

“Are you sure?” he asks, cautiously.

“I’m sure.” You reply, pulling back the covers and inviting Harry in. You feel the bed dip beside you and a warm body snuggle up against yours, his arm slowly wrapping its self around your waist, careful not to frighten you. When you remained calm he rested, kissing the back of your bare shoulder and resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“You make me so happy, (Y/N). Happier than I’ve been in a long time. Goodnight, love.” He mumbles into your neck, pecking your cheek and going to sleep, you lay awake for about an hour after that, thinking. Thinking about what had happened, how you had gone from hating this boy to lying in bed, half naked with him. You honestly did like Harry, but there was a little part of you that was scared of him. You heard him softly snore behind you; resting your head on his chest you fall asleep.

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!” You heard someone screech from your door, waking both you and Harry up. Looking up you see your mother, suitcase in one hand and Harry’s jeans in the other… Shit.